Grab Bag o' Tasting Notes

Had some good and not-so-good beers lately, and thought I'd put them all up together.

First, not-so-good: Samuel Adams Third Voyage double IPA (8.0%). Wanted to like this, had an interesting story about Captain Cook's 3rd Voyage (to New Zealand and the PacNW, where they got the hops for this twin-hemi hopped beer)...but while it had a spicy, fruity, piney nose, the beer itself was heavy, almost logy, and thick in the mouth. I know double IPAs are big, but the really good ones are much lighter on their feet than this.

Then, Samuel Adams turns around and delivers on the Belgian Session ale, at 4.3% (some details here), and it was wonderful. Skillful brewing got a lot of flavor out of the yeast, spices, and fruit peels in the beer, and that's what session beer brewing is all about. This one is a cross between a Belgian pale and a witbier, and it works quite well: the spicy notes mingled with light and creamy orange, and the whole thing finishes crisp and dry. This isn't me liking session beer, this is me liking a good beer.

I picked up two beers from Blatant Brewery in Massachusetts two weeks ago, and reviewed the Blatant Session here. I liked it, but I liked the Blatant IPA (6.5%) even more. The hops are firmly up-front, with an insistent pine-and-pith aroma and a captivating (and appetizing) bitterness on the tongue, and the whole of the beer trips lightly on the tongue, an agile dancer of an IPA that twirls and stamps. Delicious, and I wish I'd bought more.

I mentioned the newly reformulated Killian's Irish Red in my St. Patrick's Day post (you know, the one and only one), and it deserves further mention.I remember the way Coors originally did Killian's, back in the 1980s: a surprisingly estery ale, quite tasty, a beer I used to buy by the keg. Then they changed it...and it was bland, but still red, and propped up by plastic paddy marketing. This new beer is still a lager, I think, but the new Killian's is much more malty than the debased reddish-amber flab-bag it had become. It's slippery-smooth, with some juicy Vienna-like malt in the middle, and a good malt finish. Again, surprising. Definitely one I'd buy if I were out in a bar.

I also got a variety 12-pack of Genesee beers from my good friend Sam Komlenic for my birthday last month, and I cracked out two of them, too. 12 Horse Ale was an old fave, but...wow, not so much. Blunt, even coarse, to the point where I was thinking to myself, man, I hope this has changed, because I'd hate to think I once liked a beer like this. But the old reliable, Genesee Cream Ale, was a fun beer to drink! I wasn't expecting much after the 12 Horse wagon crash, but Genny Cream was sweet and light, showing the cream ale style that won multiple GABF gold medals (Genny Cream has more gold medals than almost any other beer; seven, I think). I'd happily order this again on a hot day in a shady bar.

Got some more, but I have to go sing. Maybe later.

Okay, but it's still the dumbest-looking growler I've ever seen

I had a pretty good Coors beer tonight, Batch 19. I got the sample a few weeks ago: the embossed bottle nestled in excelsior in a shoebox-sized wooden crate...and the goofy-looking growler you see to the right. That's how it came: big mouth, and no cap. No lid at all. WTF? I Googled some Batch 19 press and event reports, and these dopey boogers apparently think a "growler" is a half-gallon pitcher. Bejayzus.

Anyway...The beer itself is actually pretty good. That's the real color, it's got real body, and there's an honest to God bitterness to it. The malt/"adjunct" character is the star, though, and it's pretty tasty. I had it with steamed shrimp and corn on the cob, and I'd definitely do it again. Put me in the mind of a Dortmunder Export. 

As it happens, I interviewed Coors brewer Keith Villa (the creator of Blue Moon) about Batch 19 about a year ago, and since that article's been paid for a long time, I'll put it up here.

Why “Batch 19?”

Back in 2004 we had a small flood in the archives of the Coors brewery. They were in the basement. I stumbled on a box with the old brewer’s logbooks. The earliest was October of 1913, and they went right up to Prohibition in 1919. The early logbook, right before Prohibition, the beer was heavier, and had less adjunct, about 20%. When Prohibition was repealed, it went up to 33%. It was rice at the time. 

They noted that they were using “Chevalier” malt. It’s a variety that was considered a high quality variety in the 1800s; it’s no longer available [geek excitement over Maris Otter and Golden Promise notwithstanding, barley varieties tend to come and go pretty quickly]. The hops were only noted as “imported” and “domestic.” Whoever took the notes had handwriting that was exquisite; it was easy to read all the numbers. The temperatures were all in Roehm degrees; I had to convert all of those. Little problems at first, got over them and made the beer. 

“Batch 19” was inspired by that recipe. We literally can’t get the same ingredients. The only constant ingredient is the water; we’re still drawing from the same wells, drawing from the same alluvium. Adolph Coors was pulling from that, and he wasn’t pulling much, it was a spring. The big brewery is pulling it up now. Nowadays we technically have to call it Rocky Mountain well water! That’s the only consistent thing. The water is a little bit softer now, but it’s pretty close to what they were using back then. 

Hops, we didn’t know what they were using. They didn’t note the variety of hops until the 1940s. Hops weren’t as afflicted by diseases and pests then, they were pretty hardy, and they stuck with the ‘noble’ varieties. So that’s what I did; I chose for the main hops Herrsbrucker, and Strisselspalt. It’s close to Herrsbrucker, but it has these notes of black currant; very hoppy with a bit a fruitiness. I stuck in a little bit of Cascade to round out the fruitiness. There’s a little Mt. Hood, and some Hallertauer Select. They added hops at the beginning, towards the end of the boil, and right before the end of the boil. 

They didn’t measure the color of the beer back then, but I guess that it was a nice golden color. They used pale malt. If it wasn’t dark enough, they’d add a touch of caramel malt to darken it up a bit. I used the Moravian malt that we have, the Coors strain. We have a barley breeding program up in Idaho; they improve it every year. Then I put just a tiny bit of European cara-malt. It maintains the color of the beer, and adds a slightly more complex character to the beer. It’s fermented with the classic Coors yeast. 

It’s fairly close… If there’s a bullseye out there to designate what beer was being drunk by people back in 1914 as Coors beer, we probably didn’t hit it, because the ingredients are different. But my guess is that we’re just outside that bullseye. I did a lot of investigative historical work to formulate it as close as possible to what they would have tasted back then.

It’s got a lot of hop character, a good lager character, and it’s a bright, clear beer. It’s not pasteurized, it’s cold-filtered. It’s a real nice lager, a pre-Prohibition lager. In 2008 it won a GABF silver medal. We just released it in 5 cities: Chicago, Milwaukee, DC, SF, and San Jose. We’ll see how it does. If it does well, we’ll expand it.

The stuff I’m doing and putting into the archives, I’m thinking they’ll be pulling them out in 100 years.

Why now?

We’d played around with the recipes for a few years. The flood of 2004…it was minor, but it could have wiped out the records and we’d have had nothing. Let’s get serious. We served it in the private bar here for employees, and people loved it. We called it pre-Pro. The marketing people found out about it, and loved it: it was a real story. It’s been fun making it. It’s a historic beer, and I like the taste. If people want to look at the logbook, it’s right there. It had always been there, but no one’s ever brewed those beers for over 50 years. There’s other stuff there, too. They made a bock beer, and they made an export version, a stronger version of Batch 19.