Elysian Bifröst Winter Ale

Bifröst -- The Rainbow Bridge of Norse mythology. Bifröst spanned the otherwise untravelable distance between Asgard and Midgard; roughly, heaven and earth. (That's pronounced "BIV-rost," BTW, not "BUY-frost.")

I didn't quite get to heaven with my bottle of Elysian Brewing's Bifröst Winter Ale. But it was a nice trip. Bifröst is pleasantly in the "turn it up" category of winter beers, cranked up a little to 6.25%, and 42 IBU (including a nice aromatic dry-hopping with Amarillo and Styrian Goldings). It's got more body than that strength might lead you to expect, not cloyingly so, but enough to grant it some authority. The hops aren't overdone, while the dry-hopping lets some nice aromas -- spicy, earthy, and fresh -- come through.

The more I think about Bifröst, the more I think that this represents the American ale-equivalent of a bock beer, not the variety of ale-brewed bock imitators (Rogue Dead Guy being the best-known). They're good, and they're close to a bock, but this is, I think, closer to the idea, the raison d'etre (or Daseinszweck) of a bock: a bigger, heftier beer for winter comfort. Bifröst achieves this while staying true to its roots, rather than by craftily imitating something other than what it is.

Come the Fimbulwinter and Ragnarok, I'll probably want something much stronger (the Bruichladdich Trestarig might be appropriate). But until the Fire Giants shatter the Rainbow Bridge, I'll be happy with a bottle of Bifröst.

Great Divide Hibernation Ale

Do you remember drinking craft beer in the mid-90s? When Old Horizontal was the absolute shit*, and people still thought Sam Adams and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale were pretty good beers†, and you made a Christmas beer by going in the brewery, grabbing the Beer-Making-Volume Control and cranking that bad boy up to 11?‡

I took a step back in time Tuesday afternoon at the Memphis Taproom. I was on my way back from Yards (a visit that's going to get blogged soon) and thought, hell, I've got time for one...and it was such a beautiful October afternoon, and they had the door open, and I saw Great Divide Hibernation on the taplist. It's been years since I had a Hibernation. I went to Great Divide's GABF party back in 1995 and 1996 and had a blast, drinking years of Hibernation with Brian and Tara Dunn. When it made it East, I was happy to sup up more.

But times changed, and beers came and went, and I think the last time I had one was about 2000. This pint of 2008 Hibernation came dark and solid, and totally old-school winter ale. It's big -- just a little bit boozy, which is good, it keeps you honest and aware -- it's unashamedly hoppy, it's malty but doesn't overdo the esters, and it just tasted so good that if I hadn't told myself I'd keep it to one, I'd have put it away all too quickly. This was the way brewers used to make big beers: dynamic balance, tension, nothing overwhelming, like a game of Blockhead 6 feet high and 4 feet wide.

Be damned if it's going to be 8 years before I have another!

*And it still pretty much is.

†And they still are.

‡And you can obviously still make a damned good beer that way.