Rodenbach Grand Cru

It's Thirstday, so I figured I'd best do some quenching. Digging down into the cooler, I thought that a nice Belgian would do fine for this evening. I've been on an IPA/APA binge lately and decided that something completely different would suit my mood, and boy did I find something different.

Rodenbach Brewing has been around in one form or another for almost 200 years, and by goodness they've figured out what the heck it is they're doing. Even Palm Brewing buying them in 1998 probably didn't even put much of a hiccup in the process, because this stuff is just damned good.

Rodenbach Grand Cru, according to the bottle, consists of 33% "young" ale, with the rest being no less than 2 years old, having aged in oak barrels during maturation. I found this blending to be intriguing, as it reminds me of so many of my beloved whiskys. I'm not really familiar with Flanders Red Ales, but something tells me I'm going to become more familiar now. It's a 6% beer, so it could be sold in our grocery and convenience stores here in Tennessee. I can't see the local Food City removing Natty Light just to make room for some frou-frou foreign beer that ain't in cans, but a guy can dream.

As I pulled the cage off of the cork I noted that the cork looked a bit musty. Not bad, but musty. Like a cork that has sat in a cellar for quite a while, though it hasn't been in my cellar for more than a couple of months. I saw this as a portent of bad things to come, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The date on the bottle is 05-11-15, so I'm assuming the brewer would rather this beer be consumed before November 5, 2015, given European date nomenclature.

Picking up the cold 750 ml bottle and working the stopper, I was surprised when the cork blew off in my hand quite easily, which I would ascribe to the fact that it is the strangest champagne-style cork I've ever seen. I am not accustomed to them being as short as the one in the picture. When it initially popped I looked at it and then picked up the bottle, afraid that the rest had broken off in the bottle. It hadn't. It's just stubby. It's the cutest little mushroom-looking thingy you'll find in your cork jar ever. At least I hope it is.

When I pour a Belgian I'm oftentimes afraid that the head will be overwhelming. It's a hit or miss situation, but I'm always careful. There was no chance of this happening, I quickly realized. Grand Cru pours in an almost-watery stream, with not much body, creating a very small, finely-bubbled head. This thin head disappears quickly, leaving behind a dark ruby-colored liquid punctuated by very tiny champagne-like carbonation bubbles rising to the surface.

Putting the glass up to my nose I was immediately hit with cherry and vinegar notes. It was almost overwhelming, tickling my sinus cavities like an effervescent feather duster and making me sneeze. Little bubbles found their way up into my brain and made my eyes water, but I likened them to tears of joy. I'd found a good one. No doubts at that point.

I raised Brew Dog Abstrakt snifter to my lips and the crisp liquid trickled onto my tongue. It jumped in confusion and, eventually, joy. Sour, sour, sour at first and then the vinegar kicked in. The crispness of the brew reminded me of a nice dry champagne mixed with unsweetened pomegranate and cherry juices, with very little heaviness or oiliness coating my mouth. After the first few sips my taste buds became accustomed to the tartness and started to enjoy everything else about this beer. As it warmed up it became mildly peppery and woody, with a distinct wine note, like an oaked Chardonnay, but without the overall flavor of Chardonnay.

The finish iwas just as delightful as the nose and initial sip. I was left with a lingering taste in my mouth of sour cherries and rock candy, and was taken back to cherry cough drops for some reason, though this was lacking the tongue numbing qualities of those cough drops of my yoot. It's actually a very nostalgic flavor for me, and something I will definitely have to revisit.

Upon completion, the glass I used showed absolutely no lacing whatsoever. It was as if the beer hadn't even been there. But it had, and I'll always remember my first pour.

Edit: The Beer Hunter himself, Michael Jackson, called it "The Most Refreshing Beer In The World." I'm not sure I would disagree. This is a great one. I wouldn't hesitate to serve it in champagne glasses for my wine snob, non-beer-drinking friends, and I would definitely ring in a new year with a flute or three. I only hope I can find more of it soon to set back for special celebrations.

Why I'm Done with Untappd

When I first started using Untappd on 8/17/11, I thought it was a great tool. I was able to keep track of the of beers I've had, find out about new releases, earn cool badges, and socialize with a bunch of other beer geeks as we explored the world of fermented malt beverages together. It was even cooler that we could post our stuff to our social media pages. It allowed others to live vicariously through each others pursuit of beer nirvana.

But that's not what it has turned out to be. I've seen it change over the past few months into a tool of competition. Friends and acquaintances are racing to see who can get the most uniques and who can find the most obscure. Instead of actually enjoying the beer that we are trying, many of us, myself included, have turned it into an opportunity to one-up others.

I've seen rude commentary veiled as jokes, bragging, oneupmanship, exclusion of others and outright banality. I've been guilty of some of these, and others have been guilty as well.

It's doing the same thing that many other social media outlets have done. It's dividing friendships. It's putting friends into direct competition with each other for the sake of being "the first" or "the best" or whatever other motivations people might have. It's driving wedges between people who have more in common than not in common.

My first check in was at Stone Brewing in Escondido. My last check in was a Three Floyds selection last night. I'm done with the competition. I'm done wondering what other people have had, are having or will have. I'm done racing to try as many unique beers as I can in the name of some ephemeral special "badge." I don't need competition in my life when it comes to what I drink, eat or just enjoy. I'll keep my own database of what I'm drinking, and I'll try my damnedest to keep notes on what I think of each one, for my own personal pleasure. No Beeradvocate. No Ratebeer. No Untappd. Just me, Excel and a bottle opener.

It was a ton of fun in the beginning, but it ceased to be fun over the last two or three months. Life is competitive enough with daily living. I don't need to add another level of jousting and sparring to my life. I'm removing myself from the competition and going back to enjoying my brews.

So I'll see you at the local pub, and my phone will stay in my pocket.

Beerdouches

For years I've had a strong distaste for beer snobs. Now, I'm not talking about those who call themselves beer snobs. That self-given appellation tends to be an ironic one. Most of the beer "snobs" that I'm friends with are open to all different kinds of beer. If it's good, they'll drink it. If it's bad, and it's all you have, they'll drink it to not be rude. What kind of beer lover would turn down a cold Corona while out on the lake, sunburned as hell in 95* weather, when the only two things to drink on the boat are water and Corona? There are few things as good as a lawnmower beer after a hot day in the sun.

No, the kind of beer snobs I speak of are the ones who profess to know all there is to know about beer and turn their nose up at others who choose to drink something they view as "lesser" or "macro." I've heard all the arguments over the years regarding different brewers and their "sellout" to production, and I'm tired of hearing about it. I prefer to call these people "beerdouches." They're the hipsters of the beer world, in their skinny jeans, plaid shirts, ironic beards, chunky glasses, Converse high tops and gauged earrings.

Steve Body  says much of what I've been thinking over the past few years. At one time craft beer enthusiasts had to stick together. The choices were few and far between, and many of us had to resort to doing beer trades with friends just to try something from other locales.

These days there are so many different varieties and choices out there that many have lost sight of what it is we all enjoy in the community: beer. Just because you prefer Beelzebubba's Barnyard Triple Smoked Malt Cherry Saison doesn't mean that the guy next to you is wrong in his choice of Dogfish Head Namaste as his favorite brew. While I'm not a witbier fan, you're not wrong for preferring it.

The Animal and I have a friend who is not a "discerning" beer drinker. He knows what he likes and he tends to stick with it. We were in Nashville for a Jimmy Buffett concert and went out, as we are wont to do, on Broadway for an evening of self-lubrication with suds and shots. We wound up at The Beer Sellar, again as we are wont do do.

Being the Hopheads that we are, The Animal and I promptly ordered a pitcher of Yazoo Hop Project. I don't know what number it was, and won't pretend that I have any idea, since we were already 8 or 9 beers into the night. We were immediately in 7th Heaven. (After further research, I believe it was #49, as that is what was bottled and kegged in May, 2011). 

We poured three glasses and slid one over the table to the non-discerning one. He put his nose in the glass and just looked at us as if to say, "OK... What have you fuckers gotten me into?" and took a big, mouth-filling, soul-cleansing pull on his glass.

He immediately started coughing, his eyes watering, and hurriedly put his beer back down on the table.

"What the? That tastes like grass! Ugh! Oh my... (grabs the server) Can I get a glass of water?"

The Animal and I were about to fall out of our chairs laughing. We had no idea he'd have this reaction, but to see the look on his face was comical. We both could remember feeling the same way the first time we tried a hop-forward beer. It's a real shock to the system. Our friend picked up the menu and chose something a little more, um, pedestrian. We didn't rag on him for his choice, and we didn't care if he didn't like what we were drinking. He likes beer. We like beer. It's just that our tastes are different from his. No harm, no foul.

But increasingly I run into people at beer stores, beer festivals and online who seem to feel a need to indoctrinate the entire world regarding *their* expertise in beer and have to, for some reason, blast everybody else for liking something that they deem to be "unworthy" or "overrated." This kind of douchery is pathetic and uncalled for. I'm of a mind that the more brewers the better, and the more beers the even better. As long as you're drinking craft beer, you're supporting the movement, and the movement is important. Your unsolicited, sanctimonious opinion is not.

I'm not a big fan of Butternuts' line of beers. Everything I've had does not appeal to my palate. There are those out there who adore the Butternuts beers and drink them all the time. I feel that they have just as much as right to their opinion as I do mine. I don't expect anybody here to change their opinions based on my tastes. I only hope to turn some people on to something different in their lives, and get people to step out of their comfort zones to try a change of pace every once in a while.

Tonight's beers:
Sam Adams Old Fezziwig Ale - So-so. I wasn't all that impressed, but I could drink more.
Alaskan Brewing Company Smoked Porter (2011) - Now I know what the stink is all about. This stuff is amazing.
Innis & Gunn Highland Cask - I love Innis & Gunn's beers, and this is no exception. A fine, fine beer. I'm glad I bought a 4-pack.

I couldn't say it any better.

So I won't. Chuck Noll discusses beer snobbery and the bad juju it brings.

The Beer Snob

Bruisin' Ales

I couldn't help but pee a little when I stepped in the door. I'd heard so much about Bruisin' Ales, but walking into the store on Sunday I felt like I had walked into that mythical land called Beervana. I was giddy like a little girl invited to her first Junior High dance by her dream guy.

I'll do a bigger post the next time I visit, but I must say that I was a bit impressed by the selection available at Bruisin' Ales. There's a reason that this store has been ranked as the 3rd or 4th best beer store in the world for the past two years.

You can almost walk right past the entrance. It's not overly obvious, but sits right next to the big parking lot we parked in. Downtown Asheville has seen a resurgence over the past few years, and they've recently been named Beertown, USA. At my last count there were over a dozen breweries in town, and the selection of beer is, to put it simply, absolutely astounding.

Literally over 1000 different beers await you when you walk in the door of Bruisin' Ales. On your left are ciders, etc. and directly in front of you is a large selection of glassware. The checkout counter is just next to this. Turn right and drop to your knees, because you have just witnessed the beerpocalypse.

OK, that's enough for stupid, made-up words.

Bruisin' Ales is worth the stop.