Pittsburgh Beer Lovers: Volunteer this weekend!

I got the following from Sean Casey, owner of Church Brew Works in Pittsburgh. Sean has been a leader in the fight against the inflationary and unfair 10% "poured drink" tax in Allegheny County. You must know my position on booze taxes by now: We pay enough now. If a government service is of benefit to the entire public, then the entire public should pay for it.

This tax has been misrepresented by its proponents from the beginning: they lied about whether or not they would enact it, they lied about who would have to pay it, they lied about how much money it would take from residents pockets, they even lied about what it would be applied to (folks were told that to-go sixpacks would not be taxable; then the County decided that they were, even though the tax was presented as a poured drink tax).

Now that the people of Allegheny County have reared up and signed a petition for a referendum on the tax, about 45,000 of them. The response from those who want to see this unfair tax stay in place? They sued, challenging the legitimacy of the signatures. They're looking to have 29,000 of them thrown out. The infernal gall of them...

You can help by volunteering to inspect signatures this weekend. Here's what Sean had to say:

Frederick Hannah, Shawn Flaherty and Shirley Williamson have filed a suit to challenge the legitimacy of the 40,000 signatures certified by Allegheny County Division of Elections. They are seeking to throw out approximately 29,000 signatures out of the roughly 45,000 signatures filed by our citizenry on a myriad of nuances.

Preliminary instructions from the court today created a guideline of what should be acceptable parameters for voters that signed the “Drink Tax referendum.” This indicates that knit picky challenges will be rejected and voter spirit will be protected.

Friends Against Counterproductive Taxation (FACT, a group that is against government applying onerous taxation on small businesses) is looking for volunteers this Saturday -9/13 and Sunday - 9/14. We need volunteers to help in the signature protection/certification process that would be akin to the chad recounts that transpired in Florida. This recount will occur at the Division of Elections downtown.

If you would like to volunteer for a 4 hour or 8 hour shift, please forward an email to myself at cbw1996@comcast.net and copy info@stopdrinktax.com and/or call me at
work 412-688-8282.

The spirit of the people should be allowed to prevail. We appreciate the verbal support and emails of encouragement that many of your provide to us on this issue.

Casey calls this effort "Whiskey Rebellion II." A wonderful sentiment. Now get out there and count!

Missed Opportunities: a shout out to Jack, Kerry, Gregg, and King Ron

Okay, this is going to be a little complicated, but I just saw something that made me pissed, intrigued, nostalgic, and happy, all at the same time. It's this entry in Evan Rail's excellent Czech beer blog (which I really need to read more regularly). He's talking about how he wants the already excellent Pardubicky Porter to be better, less of a sweet finish, so he's "beer hacking" by dosing some of it with Orval yeast, in hopes of getting some brett dryness in it.

But that's not what zinged my cortex. It was this:

For example, take Pardubický Porter from Pivovar Pernštejn in Pardubice. The Czech Republic’s premiere Baltic Porter and perhaps the southernmost traditional exemplar of the style, Pardubický Porter is a very filling, strong black lager with lovely treacle and licorice notes.

As anyone knows who knows me, I'm a sucker for Baltic Porter. And this is Moby Dick for me, because of a bastard bus driver named Ivan. The whole story's here, but I'll condense it. I was on a beer junket in the Czech Republic (courtesy of Distinguished Brands Int'l, who no longer own the rights to the beer they had us over there to pimp, Budvar, so no real conflict here, okay?) with the beer writers mentioned in the post title ("Uncle" Jack Curtin, Kerry "ColdHard" Byrne, Gregg "Let Me Get That For You, Miss" Glaser, and "King" Ron Givens).

Jack's buddy, Czech beer demiurge Honza Kočka, had lined up a sample case (that's pronounced "free effin' beer") of Pardubický Porter for us, direct from the brewery. And our bus driver, Ivan, damn his black heart, refused, simply refused to go half a mile out of his way and let us pick it up. That bastard! After three years, I still get pissed off when I think about it.

And when I saw Evan's post today, well, it all came back. Finding out how highly Ron Pattinson regards the beer didn't help. Ah, me. Some day.

Sly Fox Oktoberfest

I stopped by Sly Fox Royersford and picked up a quarter of Oktoberfest for Labor Day weekend with Cathy's family in upstate NY. We like Oktoberfest beers. So I get there with the kids, we have a good lunch (with, unfortunately, some sub-par service...which, unfortunately, has generally been our lot at Royersford, which is why we usually go to the original Sly Fox in Phoenixville), and get hold of brewer Brian O'Reilly to hook up with the keg.

After I wrote him a check for the beer and deposit ($30 deposit, not bad, these days), he starts hauling out bottles of beer he wants me to have. (Larry Horwitz, brewer at Iron Hill North Wales, tells me O'Reilly's always like this: "He gives me beer," Larry wails, "like I need more beer!"). Two of the bottles were 22 oz. Oktoberfest. But Brian, I said, I'm buying a whole 1/4 keg of Ofest! "Take 'em," he says, "you can drink them at home."

So today I am, at least one of them. And it's bringing back the pleasure of Labor Day weekend. This is a solid festbier, with that beautiful copper color, big malty aroma, solid hefty body, a great finish. Extremely drinkable, too, as I found out on the holiday (note: when you have a keg back at the house, do not ride your bike over to the local beer bar, meet with your bros-in-law, knock back three pints of Brooklyn East India Pale Ale...and then go back and tap the keg).

Anyway, the only small complaints I'd have is that it maybe drinks a bit boozy (it's only 5.8%, according the SF website) for its weight -- there are bigger beers that don't taste this strong -- and might be a bit over-carbonated: there's some perceived bitterness that seems a bit much for festbier. I suspect it is carbonation, because it's mellowed as it sits in my mug.

Minor issues. Good with a lunch of spaghetti bolognese (left over from two nights ago; I bought round steak and ground it at home, deliciously fresh), good after lunch is over, and just great over Labor Day. I love this time of year. Bring on the Autumn!

Remembrance

Seven years ago, Stan Hieronymus wrote a piece for All About Beer called "Finding Sanctuary on Nine-Eleven." On today, what I call Remembrance Day for my own reasons, the piece reads well. Of course it does: it's Stan.

Right now, this minute as I write this, seven years ago, I was editing photos from some trips. Nora sat upstairs, home sick from school. Then I got an e-mail from my dad. "Turn on your television. We appear to be under attack." I wrote about the day, and the week that followed, five years later here, and I re-read it occasionally to remind me.

Today is a beautiful, cloudless September day, just like it was seven years ago...which brings that same sense of the surreal. I'm doing an Irish whiskey dinner tonight, which I kind of feel weird about. (Nora asked, "Dad, you'd do a dinner on December 7, wouldn't you? What's the difference?" She's right...and wrong: it's the rawness of it.)

Raise a glass to the victims, and another to the heroes: the firefighters and police, the brave passengers on Flight 93, the servicefolk who responded that day, the construction workers who tirelessly dug through smoking wreckage looking for survivors. And remember. And look ahead.

Happy anniversary, Jimmy Russell

Today, September 10, marks 54 years that Jimmy Russell started work at the Wild Turkey distillery in Lawrenceburg, Kentucky. I talked to Jimmy a couple months ago for the story in the latest issue (due out October 1) of Malt Advocate, he told me how he started out in Quality Control:

"This is really the only full-time job I’ve ever had," he said. "It wasn’t hardly the same as it is now. They called it "Quality Control." Now you do Quality Control and people bring you samples and you sit there and run them. Back then, you went and got your own samples, and then you might be unloading a truck of grain after you run them. Unloading it with a shovel!"

Now Jimmy's been there so long, and been the master distiller so long, it's hard for anyone else to remember when Jimmy wasn't making the bourbon. He learned how to do it from a pre-Prohibition master distiller, William Hughes:

It wasn’t always "the Russell way." When Jimmy learned distilling, it was "Mister Bill’s way." Master distiller William "Mister Bill" Hughes was a "seven-day man," as Jimmy put it. "He lived up on top of the hill, and he was here seven days a week. He’d worked before Prohibition, here at this distillery." Mister Bill took young Jimmy under his wing, and taught him distilling.

And we've all benefited. Hats off, and shake hands with one of the finest folks in bourbon -- a business that is chock-full of some truly warm, decent folks -- happy anniversary, Jimmy Russell. Thanks for all the great whiskey.

Maia: maybe

I was at a wholesaler event last night in Bryn Mawr. Gretz Beer, one of the area A-B wholesalers, was launching the new Budweiser American Ale and 're-introducing' some of the other beers in their portfolio. I saw Michelob Pale Ale and Dunkel Weiss, Unita Punkin, Czechvar, Stella Artois, Hoegaarden, Victory Festbier, Löwenbräu, and some others. It was an event for retailers, mostly off-premise folks, and they were reacting well to the Bud Ale, including Matt Capone, the Energizer Bunny of beer launches at Capone's in Norristown. He said to me, "Pretty good!" Keep in mind, of course, that he was surrounded by A-Bvolk at the time.

Had several good chats with the folks there, including Brian Quinn, an A-B draft guy I'd met last year at Markt for an A-B/InBev lovefest (that turned out to be a prelude to this year's goings-on). Some of it was heartening, proving that A-B and their wholesalers really do get what's going on in craft beer -- and some agreement that the brewmasters have a lot more input at the company than they did, say, five years ago. But I still heard things like "not bitter, like other bocks." You can't just give salespeople words when you expect them to make sales to people who actually know what the hell beers are, you have to make them understand what those words mean, and in what context they are meaningful. Otherwise, they clang like a broken bell.

Anyway, after I left the event, I headed back Lancaster Ave. towards the Blue Route, where I saw Maia. Now, Uncle Jack had gushed about it, and then the esteemed Craig LaBan gushed about it, so I think to myself, hey, maybe oughta stop in. So I did, and it impressed me with its design right away, as in, it was so designed that I couldn't tell if the damned place was open or not until someone walked out the door. Okay, that's me.

So I walked in, and the open plan (with map, as LaBan points out) drew me further in. Kind of reminded me of a place Steve and I went in Ghent, Brasserie Pakhuis (and that Frommer review I linked to really nails the similarity: "Although maybe too conscious of its own sense of style, Pakhuis...is all stocked up in matters of taste."), which is in a former warehouse, whereas Maia is in a former supermarket; similar spaces. Nice-looking beers on tap -- Maredsous, Victory Donnybrook, Goliath -- and a very good selection of spirits (top-heavy on vodkas, but that's a fact of life). Downcheck on the barstools: too high (and if they're too high for a guy who's 6'1"...) and looking like porch furniture.

Service was very quick, damned near immediate. I saw a Gaffel Kölsch tap in front of me, and thought, yeah, light, crisp, just the thing for one more before heading home. "A kölsch," I said, by way of a test, and he passed brilliantly. The pour? A small tulip glass -- downcheck on glass, amused upcheck on size of portion -- and set down with pride in front of me. I asked to run a tab; I saw someone enjoying some soup, which sounded right. Then I looked at the temporary check he set down. My Gaffel, which looked to be 10 oz. or less, was $7. Wow. Hey, I know bringing in low-volume imports ain't cheap. But that's the kind of price I'm used to paying for something like Chimay White, and while Gaffel Kölsch is good, it ain't Chimay White.

Whew. I decided I had to get another beer to see what was going on here. I ordered soup (a choice between gazpacho and French onion; I got the hot one, and it was very, very good) and got a Victory Donnybrook. It came in a 20 oz. dimple mug, and was $6.50. Well, that's better, for a 20 oz. pour. Again, the service was almost telepathic, but it was a good thing I'd checked the taps as I walked by. The chalkboard beerlist only gave the brewery names, in big letters. Victory makes a bunch of beers, guys; telling me you have "VICTORY" doesn't help a lot.

All that said, Maia has a good vibe. I've seen people complain that it's "confusing," that it takes too much work to figure out what you want and where to get it. I only concur so far as the beerlist. In short, grow up. This is a different idea, a different layout, and you need to have fun with that, not whine about it. Besides, with bar service like that, I'm willing to put up with some thinking (though not $7 mini-beers). If the rest of the food is up to the soup -- and LaBan emphatically says it is -- I'll probably bring Cathy by, and we'll have another look.

The Session #19 -- Deutsches Beer

It's The Session, beer blogging on a common topic, and this month it's "German beer." See all the links soon here at lootcorp 3.0.

German beer. Deutsches Bier.

As I'm writing this, I'm trying a German beer that's new to me, courtesy of Horst Dornbusch's new importing effort: Meckatzer Gold, from the Meckatzer Löwenbräu brewery in Heimenkirch. Appropriate (and tasty, too: good malty body, dry bitterness), because there are more damned beers and breweries in Germany than you can shake a stick at.

I've learned that, in the course of five visits to Germany -- more than I've made to any other country than Canada -- and I've also learned that I love the German beer culture, German drinking culture more than any other I've experienced. Mind you, that's limited experience, and Belgium's close, but it beats the U.S. hands down, and even edges out the Czech Republic.

Why? Well, in the U.S., we often get too hung up on the drunk part of things. That's sad, and disturbing. Worse, too often the bars are dark, dingy, and infested with loud music that makes conversation impossible. In the Czech Republic, it's almost like they don't even notice the beer, it's more like breathing: natural, and easy, but...not much joy. Portugal, which may well surprise you with how much beer culture it manages to have, actually came closest to the German ideal (because of German tourists?), but the beer just wasn't good enough. In Scotland, it was quite reserved -- or madly Dionysian, which says a lot about you Scots, I'm thinking. Belgian beer culture is fun, and respectful of the beer, but...almost a little too respectful, over-the-top, too focused.

I think the Germans get beer culture right; at least, for me. Germans like people around when they drink. They like beers they can drink for long sessions, but not so low-alcohol that you don't get that "social lubrication" factor going. They like solid food with their beer; nothing fancy, nothing cheap, belly-mortar to assist in that all-important buzz maintenance. The Germans have a huge state fair-like festival that centers, unashamedly, on beer, a festival that has been going on for almost 200 years and is emulated -- but never matched -- around the world. They sit, and they dance, and they talk, and they sing...and they drink beer. They all drink beer, the family, the grandparents, and they go out in the beerhalls till late in the evening, and they drink, and talk, and play cards...and I miss it when I think about it.

Like my friend and colleague Steve Beaumont said earlier today in his contribution to The Session, I almost believe that this culture, the where and the what and the how and the who of German beer drinking, is more a part of it than the actual beer, or at least as great. I remember a discussion -- not to say 'argument' -- that went on some years ago in several beer-lover arenas about whether it was possible to know a beer without having enjoyed it where it was born, in situ.

At the time, I thought the very idea was bullshit. And I said so: this is just one more way for the beer elite, the malterati, to separate themselves from the common herd. Now that we had discovered the same beers they had, now that importers were bringing us rare beers, now that craft brewers were making beers we could taste and not them (because no one can be everywhere)...they had to come up with some new divider, some new badge of belonging. Bullshit, I said, and drank stale bottles of German lagers in loud, dark, tiny bars.

Then I went to Germany, to Bavaria and Franconia, and my eyes were opened. It was not the "Red Stripe" effect, in which everything is wonderful because you're not at home; to be honest, not everything was wonderful...except when I walked into a beerhall. When you sat down across a trestle table -- solid, wooden, old, clean enough to eat from -- from a German, he or she would lift their glass and drink with you, and once they realized that you were not German, all they wanted to do was help you enjoy your stay. I met very few exceptions to this; three in five visits, one of whom disapproved of me because she was a tee-totaler -- unglaublich!

Is it the beer? Or the Germans? To tell the truth, I don't know, because I've had very little discourse with Germans outside of brewery and beerhall; it's where I go, it's why I'm there. What I do know is that whatever it is, I like it.

I'd like to visit the Scandinavian countries and see what beer culture is like there. I urgently want to visit more eastern European countries and drink there: Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, the Baltics. I need to visit England. But I know that I'll be back in Germany before long, because, well, because I need to breathe that air, enjoy the people, and drink the beer.

Please don't split that bottle, Mommy!

A UK government health study (done by the governments "Know Your Limits" alcohol campaign) found that -- get this! -- stress leads people to drink. Amazing.

But look, that's the usual waste of government money to learn something every frickin' idiot on the planet already knows; nothing to see here. It's the follow-up statement that just killed me.

Experts said if a couple shared a bottle of wine they would both be put over the recommended daily limit. Siobhan Freegard, of Netmums, said, "The extent to which this research showed modern moms are drinking really surprised us. It shows many moms and dads are developing a 'bottle a night' habit without really thinking about the health consequences. Getting used to juggling work and home life again after the summer break can be stressful for parents, but it's important not to allow yourself to slip back into the routine of relying on alcohol to help you unwind."

Dr. Sarah Jarvis, with the Home Office and Department of Health "Know Your Limits" campaign noted, "If you're returning to work, turning to the bottle can actually increase your stress levels. Try exercise or a nice warm bath to unwind instead."

Does this woman have any idea how risky the bathtub is? No, seriously, what really sent me round the bend was referring to splitting a bottle of wine with your spouse as "turning to the bottle." Get serious. It's bluenoses like this who make me wonder how we'll ever get anywhere on the truly serious problems of alcohol abuse. This is like calling for a crackdown on speeders who are two MPH over the limit.

Finally: Iron Hill in New Jersey

Uncle Jack is reporting at the Beer Yard site that Iron Hill will be opening their 8th brewpub sometime in spring of '09 (roughly...) in -- finally! -- New Jersey: 124 Kings Highway, Maple Shade, NJ, to be precise. Close enough to Flying Fish that if I was standing in the parking lot and Casey Hughes told me he was buying a car, they could hear me laugh, with a following wind.

As Jack mentioned in his blog post, procuring a liquor license was the tough part of this. Liquor licenses in this part of NJ are ridiculously pricey, and, I maintain, part of the problem of nuisance drinking. High liquor license prices put comfy, relaxed corner bars out of business. They also make it tough for brewpubs to open; competition in this densely-populated market is so tough that opening as a beer-only operation is daunting.

The most exciting part of this news -- and I mean that, I am excited -- is that Iron Hill planting the craft beer flag in this part of New Jersey is bound to have a rising tide effect on South Jersey. Flying Fish has done very well in Philly, but continues to hit resistance here because of a lack of an on-premise outlet; Cork has an excellent small beer selection, but is primarily a restaurant with limited bar space, Rat's the same; and sorry, but P.J. Whelihan's just doesn't cut it as much more than a flash bar with a few big crafts, a kind of NJ-equivalent of a J.D. Wetherspoon's pub. Overall, this area is shockingly free of specialty beer taps and bottle selections, particularly given its proximity to the wonderful diversity and thick net of choices that is southeastern Pennsylvania.

Iron Hill should change that. It's the Fort Apache theory: plant an outpost of craft beer in an area, and if it doesn't go under -- and you know Iron Hill won't -- more places will serve craft beer, more places will shift to a craft menu. That's probably going to mean that we'll see NJ fewer faces in the Philly beer scene. But that's a change I'm willing to go through if it means they're happier at home. Even if it does mean that New Jersey Breweries will be out of date this time next year!

English hop harvest not good?

A very wet August in the English hop-growing areas (which are pretty damned small these days) is apparently leading to a small harvest, according to Gerard Lemmens, renowned (and retired) hops expert. Not the kind of news small brewers -- particularly Brit hops-loving east coast small brewers -- were hoping to hear.