Congratulations, Parker Beam!

I'm currently in Louisville, on a beautiful fall day. I'm out here with John Hansell, Gary Regan, and other whiskey writers to help celebrate Parker Beam's 50 years of working at Heaven Hill.

We went down to Bardstown last night in a limo -- nine of us, passing around a bottle of Parker's Golden Anniversary, and it was fun, and Larry Kass told some great stories, and we all agreed that what gets said in the limo stays in the limo (and believe me, that's for the best!) -- and toasted Parker with a bunch of Heaven Hill folks, other distillers (at one point I was drinking with Jim Rutledge (Four Roses), Greg Davis (Tom Moore), and Craig Beam (Parker's son and co-master distiller), and Bardstown friends. Parker was called "a Rembrandt," "a genius," "brilliant," and I have to say, he was honest enough to simply smile and nod. Lots of laughs, and lots and lots of great bourbon. That's Bourbon Heritage Center director Lynne Grant with the cake, BTW...really, that's the cake. It even has the stencil on the head. Awesome.

Tonight is more Parkermania: the launch of this year's Evan Williams Single Barrel Vintage. I just had a bottle delivered to my room, and I'm not opening it. I'm waiting till the official launch. That's how it's done.

And because that's how it's done: I am Heaven Hill's guest on this trip. Because you should know that.

Kennett Square BrewFest Conn-O-Session Report

Finally wrote up the after-action report on the all-session beer "Conn-O-Session" connoisseur tasting at the Kennett Square BrewFest over at the Session Beer Project blog. Have a look.

WhiskyFest San Francisco: the wrap-up

As I said, Friday morning Jamie Fox and I walked up to Dottie's True Blue to get breakfast. We stood in line for about 20 minutes (and the line just got longer and longer), talking to some people from Harrisburg, then got two seats at the counter: front-row on the action. I went simple this time and got an omelette with bacon, mushrooms, and spinach. Yum, but the buttermilk dill toast was the absolute kickass part of the meal.

Kind of frittered away much of the rest of the day. Walked around the area a bit, did a little shopping (needed a new charger for my mp3 player, trinkets for the family, suchlike), then went back and watched the Phillies till it was time to get showered and dressed for the fest. We went California casual this year: sportscoat, no tie, and it felt good.

The fest went very well. We increased the number of tickets by almost 50% (1800) and sold out! We'd also increased the size of the ballroom, and the crowd density was just about perfect this time. Wish we could hit that balance with WhiskyFest NY. The seminars, my responsibility, were all well-attended and smooth. We only had one 'over-refreshed' patron; he was taken care of courteously by the hotel staff.

Whisky? I never have time. Had a very nice Caol Isla that Lorne Mackillop suggested -- thanks for that! -- and a Dalmore 15 with Willie Tait. Hmmm... couple Glendronachs, and a High West Rendezvous Rye. Enough! The Fest was over, and after John and I made a beer run (Sierra Nevada Anniversary, pinot grigio, snacks and nuts), we had a short after-party in John & Amy's room, then called it a successful night. Had to get up early for the flight home; uneventful, and made it in time to sing in a 7:00 concert, which was successful too.

Going on the Drinko: Day Two in San Francisco

I never did get back to you on the rest of the trip to San Francisco. After puttering about, showering and getting dressed, some e-mail, some reading I had to do, and such, I called Jamie Fox -- husband of long-time Malt Advocate staffer Kathy Fox, and a good friend -- and asked him if he had anything planned for lunch. How about we go across the Bay and hit two brewpubs in Berkeley, I temptingly offered. He quickly accepted, and we grabbed a BART train at about 11:15 for the trip to Berkeley Downtown.

Jupiter is right across the street from the station, intriguingly close and signed with a script neon that had called to me last year...but I had no time then. This year I did, and Jamie and I crossed the street and went in. They'd just opened, and the bar still smelled a bit of sour beer from the night before, so we wandered out back into a lovely little beer oasis, with a fountain pool that had a gas flame firepit in the middle; quite Elemental. We sat under the arbor, relaxed, and it was good.

Even better, so was the beer. I had a very nice glass of helles, which pleased me immensely: a brewpub lager, in California, and it was delish! I hadn't had anything to eat yet, and quickly ordered the Asian chicken skewers (good, and the peanut sauce was good, but not tremendous). Mostly we just relaxed and enjoyed the moment, the beautiful weather, the peaceful spot, and the friendly attentions of our waitress, Elizabeth. When the time was right, I ordered my lunch, a Galileo pizza: artichoke hearts, mushrooms, cheeses, garlic, spinach, and diced fresh tomato. And a porter, which was also quite nice; just a touch chocolatey, very drinkable.

Eventually, we left, though not before discovering that I'd apparently lost four credit cards! Luckily I had plenty of cash, and paid up with that. (I would eventually learn that the cards had dropped out of my wallet in a cab the night before; no harm, no foul, just a bit of angst.)

Up Shattuck we walked to Triple Rock. So comfortable, so welcoming, so friendly. I stuck to porter, and enjoyed it, and enjoyed the interplay of bar patrons. Nice people at Triple Rock, an older crowd -- at least, during the day when I've been there the last two years -- and Jamie was happy with it. After our first round, we noticed that our time was running down -- had to get back to the hotel to do some WhiskyFest work -- so we got right to the business we'd come for: a liter bottle of Monkey Head Arboreal Ale, a specialty beer brewed for Triple Rock at Drake's and only available on Thursdays; I don't know why, but I missed it last year and I wanted it.

Well...it was okay. It was good, it was solid, but it wasn't compelling. I was saddened, but not enough to put a dent on this great afternoon. The credit card situation was maybe preying on my mind a bit, to be honest. We pulled stakes and got back on the BART to the hotel.

A little work, and then we went out to see Parker Beam and the Heaven Hill folks at Rickhouse, a new bourbon bar: John and Amy Hansell, the hard-working Joan McGinley, and myself (we supposed Jamie was under the drink flag, but it was actually Kathy who was napping!). Good time, but hot up in the upper balcony/mezzanine. Delish drinks: a punch made, I believe, with Bernheim wheat whiskey, or maybe that was in the second drink, a smash with a blazingly fresh and aromatic mint leaf on top. I got into a conversation with a rep from Bols, who was shocked to learn that not only did I know what genever was, I was a fan, and had five different bottles at home, none of which were her product. What can I say, I like the stuff.

After that, we headed for Magnolia Pub & Brewery, where we were to be met again by Dave Keene. It was hopping, and we put our names in for a table and headed for the bar. At least, John and I did; we thought Amy and Joan were with us, but we lost them. We had headed in different directions (why would you head in any direction other than the bar?). We hadn't gotten the bartender's attention yet when a waitress said she had a booth open that she could put a chair to; would that do? Sure! We sat, and quickly ordered pints of cask Marin IPA. By God, they were just about perfect.

Unfortunately, we would have problems getting more of them, as our waitress at that point seemed to get very confused, and would bring us Marin Mt. Tam Pale Ale every time thereafter, despite John's telling her, This is not the beer I ordered. She brought him another Mt. Tam, and we gave up. It was good, but it wasn't the IPA. I short-circuited the problem by ordering cask Cole Porter, a house beer, and it was good.

The two women had rejoined us at this point, and Dave had arrived, so we fell to our dinners, which were excellent (rare burger, heavenly). When dins was over, we walked out into the warm early evening (it was actually quite warm, and a bit muggy, and no one has AC in SF...), looked up and down Haight, and thought about options. Amy and Joan grabbed a cab and headed for Bourbon & Branch; Dave and John and I decided to walk up Haight to Alembic. We were all thinking cocktail, something light, cool, sippy, and sophisticated.

However...Alembic was jammed (and hot), so we reluctantly went back out to the street, and caught our own cab to Bourbon & Branch. What's the password, the doorkeeper asked. WhiskyFest, we answered, and he said, that'll do. We went to Joan and Amy's table, tucked into the back room, and ordered drinks...which arrived just after we left on a tour of the whole place, including the Library and the new cigar bar. Great tour, fascinating bar with a lot of history, and a lot has been put into making it just so. Unfortunately, when we got back, our drinks had been sitting for almost half an hour, and they were limp and exhausted. The waitress got us fresh ones, but we weren't knocked out by them.

Hmmm...lemme see the menu. I was hot, which was part of the problem, so I looked for a tall drink, something more refreshing. How about this: a Democrat, bourbon, peach liqueur, honey, and fresh lemon juice in a collins glass full of ice. Sounds great! Best of all, I quipped, it's a Democrat: someone else will pay for it! (just a joke, folks...) It was delicious, cold and refreshing.

It was also the end. I walked back to the hotel -- everyone else took a cab, and only beat me by about minute -- and hit the hay. Jamie and I had planned to hit Dottie's True Blue for breakfast Friday morning, and I had to get rested!

Rittenhouse Rye Single Barrels

Yes, I've been absent. Some of it was work -- quite a bit, actually -- some of it was WhiskyFest San Francisco, and some of it was baseball. In any case...I'm back. And I'm leaving again; tomorrow I'm flying to Kentucky to help celebrate Parker Beam's 50 years with Heaven Hill, and to get the first taste of this year's Evan Williams Single Barrel.

It's appropriate, therefore, to get back in the blogging swing with three years of Rittenhouse Rye Single Barrel, the 21, 23, and 25 year old releases, all bottled at 100 proof. Heaven Hill says the 25 year old is the last of these, so I'm queueing all three up tonight, and having a taste.

The smell is filling the room, I'll tell you that: wood, spice, and a surprising fruitiness. I'm going to start with the 21 year old, which looks darker than the 23 year old, about the same as the 25. It's Bottle 67, from Barrel 1. The smell is heavy with sweet oaky spice and a trenchant note of mint. It's a bit hot, but as I chew it, the mint comes out, some cinnamon flicker, and broad wood. I'll come back to this one.

Next up is the 23 year old, Bottle 72 from Barrel 8. The smell's much less heavy, sweet and even a bit crisp. Much more lively whiskey, not nearly as thickly oaky, not nearly as hot, either. There's still quite a dance in this one: teaberry, mint, that flick of cinnamon, and some real sweetness. It goes round and round in the mouth, more coming out with every sip and breath. Don't get me wrong: this is still rye, and would never be mistaken for a friendly sip of Maker's Mark or Basil Hayden. But it's approachable, and graciously yields its treasure.

Finally, the 25 year old, an unnumbered sample bottle from Barrel 1. Almost a blend of the first two: oaky, but sweet in the nose (and I really need to trim my moustache...) with a curl of vanilla to it. Easily the most drinkable of the three, surprisingly, but I still like the 23 better; this one is less layered, more shouty. I'm adding a little water, and the sweetness comes out, and that vanilla. There's not just oak spice in this one, there's oak vanilla and a touch of caramel. Still leaning towards the 23 year old; pretty heavily, actually. Yeah, going back to the 21 finds it still hot, my least favorite of the three.

These are quite intense ryes, well-aged, and full of wood...but not ruined by it. They represent what aging American whiskey -- in the hot summers and new barrels that entails -- can bring about.

Well, that will do me for tonight. I'm off to bed, and tomorrow, I'm off to Kentucky. Cheers!

I Don't Make This Up, I Just Report It

You know I like to throw in some light stuff occasionally... Here's a news item, in its entirety:

Cops: 300-lb man in dress tries to steal rum, cola

Source: AP Oct 15th SIOUX FALLS, S.D. -

Police said a person believed to be a man disguised as a woman in a black dress tried to steal a bottle of rum and cola drinks from a local drug store. The store's loss prevention officer unsuccessfully tried to stop the person, who is described as about 20 years old, 6-foot-3-inches tall and weighing 300 pounds. Police said the person handed the rum back to the store employee, threw the drinks on the ground and fled after trying to bite the employee when the worker tried to restrain him.

I can't think of anything to add.

Drinking San Francisco

I've been doing the drinko in San Francisco since we arrived in town for WhiskyFest on Wednesday afternoon. (The six-hour flight was just barely tolerable...thanks to my new 3 oz. flask! Nothing like some bourbon on ice to ease the tedium and put a new perspective on how much six hours in a toothpaste tube sucks.) We landed about 1:30, and shortly after that John Hansell got on the phone to call David Keene, the owner of Toronado, about meeting us for a beer at the bar. Hey, David says, I'm just 15 minutes away, I'll come pick you up. And he did, in a monster Ford F-150 Platinum.

There was an odd moment; we had to get gas, and pulled into a station...and there were motorcycle cops all over, and two huge, plainly bullet-proof limos, a couple Suburbans with weird antennae on the roofs, and what sure as hell looked like a bomb disposal truck...all with Maryland or DC plates. Strange vibes, and we got the gas and got out. I didn't take any pictures. (Sure enough, we found out the next day, Obama was to be in town, and we'd filled up with his convoy.)

So Toronado was having a little fresh hop beer fest, and David started pouring beers. First one was Speakeasy's Big Daddy, and the fresh hops put the aroma over the top. Next was Port Brewing High Tide, which did not blow me away; not a lot of aroma on this one. We took a break and ran next door to Rosamunde's for sausage; I got the Merguez with onions and mustard, very good, solidly meaty. Then I took a break from IPA and got the glass of English Ales Black Prince Porter (cask) you see above. Very nice, chocolatey, good condition, and I enjoyed it quite a bit.


Then we adjourned to the back room, where we got another round of fresh hop -- Dempsey's 707, which was quite lively, dry, had a bit of a dandelion wine character -- and David started getting out the crazy stuff. We were soon drinking three vintages of Port Brewing Cable Car, the Toronado beer that makes beer geeks pee themselves. Distinctly different; the 2007 vintage was now quite soft, the 2008 had some creaminess and sharper funk going on, and the 2009 was strikingly more carbonated, with strong citrus notes. John couldn't help himself; he started blending, and soon came up with a blend that was more than the sum of its parts. We got some Sierra Nevada Estate at this point: delish, better than the bottle I'd had earlier in the week. Draft was more aromatic.

More craziness: a bottle of Russian River's Toronado XX anniversary beer. This damned beer had it all going on: chocolate, tartness, cherry, a twist of smoke, a beer that really rewarded contemplation. The room got a bit quieter as we drank it. Then someone said they wanted something dark and not sour, more sweet. David got up and left the table, and we just kept drinking...next thing we know he's back with a bottle of Malheur Dark Brut. Delicious stuff, first time I'd had the dark. "Wow," I posted to Facebook, "Good and fizzy and sweet and complexity. Cheers!" Indeed.

Yes, "complexity." We were getting a bit buzzed by this time, and decided to take a break. We dropped in on two "Whisky Week" events at Alembic (where we ran into the very cheerful and pleasant David Perkins of High West, and I had some rye whiskey drink with a cucumber garnish) and Elixir, showing the Malt Advocate flag, as it were. And then we went and had dinner at a new place David Keene is partner in, the π Bar.

Okay, it's actually the Pi Bar, but I wanted to show off. Pi Bar is simple: pizzas, salads, a little pasta (I got the pasta bolognese, and liked it), and good beer and wine. And it was all good. the anchovies were a high point: locally cured, fleshy, mild, delicious. I got a glass of Deschutes Black Butte (cuz I could, which I can't at home) and then Moonlight Death & Taxes, a black lager with some roasty dark malt authority. I took to the Death and Taxes rather strongly.

When we broke up to head back to the hotel, I texted my friend Steve Jackson, who lives in SF, and asked him if he wanted to meet me at Zeitgeist. Sure, so I walked down Velencia 1.5 miles and walked into the place...and got carded! Yeah! Really! It was great. No Steve yet, so I grabbed another Death & Taxes and waited for him. We got caught up (had a Drake's Porter, too) and had some laughs, but it was getting late. I said good-bye, and walked another 1.5 miles down Mission to the hotel.

A good day. Thursday would be a good day too. More soon.

Finally, some action at my PLCB blog, too

Yes, I have a new poll up at Why The PLCB Should Be Abolished, the blog that tries, single-handedly --wait, actually, I used both hands to type it -- to drag Pennsylvania's alcohol policy into the 20th Century (and no, that's not a typo). I took what I thought were the PLCB's five worst gaffes of the past two years -- the "courtesy training," the awarding of the contract for the courtesy training (which triggered an audit by the State AG), the "wine kiosks" (which should have triggered an audit by the State AG), the "re-branding" of the State Store System (supposedly the new name is "Table Leaf"), and the appointment of Joe "CEO" Conti to fill a brand-new $150,000 position that no one in the 75 year history of the PLCB ever saw a need for (okay, that's a little more than two years, but what the hell) -- and asked you which one pissed you off the most.

Which one of these ridiculous gaffes pissed you off the most? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being that this is the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board, the second-largest buyer of booze in the world, and would tax your head clean off, you've to ask yourself one question: do I feel screwed? Well, do ya, citizen?

Don't worry. To paraphrase yet another movie quote, when you put your hand in the pile of goo that used to be your state's dignity and honor...you'll know what to do. Vote!

Honors to Greg Noonan

Commercial and homebrewing pioneer Greg Noonan died late Saturday. Noonan wrote the very influential homebrewing guide Brewing Lager Beer (1986, updated in 2003) and opened Vermont's first brewpub in 1988. More importantly, he guided and inspired many brewers.

I never met Greg Noonan, and I consider that my loss, my great loss. He was one of the first in the field in America. Stan Hieronymus has written a tribute here.

"The Report of my Death was an Exaggeration"*

Back in July, a bunch of us in the "Philly Beer Community" got an e-mail from Chris Leonard, owner-brewer of the General Lafayette Inn: things were not good, really not good, and he was putting together a last-ditch plan to rescue the place. Uncle Jack, bless his heart, posted it on his blog. I...did not. I meant to, but apparently I was paving the road to Hell that week, got busy (July was a thin month 'round here), and by the time I had time to do it, well, the moment had passed. I felt bad, and finally got my guts up last week and said something to Chris about it by way of an apology.

'No worries,' he said (I'm paraphrasing), 'things are better, and I'll send you an update.' He has, and here it is, in Chris's truly inimitable style.


"Better Days Ahead

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Just ask my mother-in-law. Much to her chagrin, The General Lafayette Inn soldiers on with renewed vigor, promise, and excitement for the season that lies ahead. Despite rumors that the General is up for sheriff sale (NOT true) and that we are “out of business” (hardly), we are very much in the early stages of a mini-renaissance, if you will, at the old Inn and Brewery.

Are things easy? Of course not. But nothing worth earning ever is. I was fortunate enough to welcome some new blood on the ownership side of things here. It has helped energize us. That, along with an entire new menu concept (mussels, flatbreads, pretzels, incredible burgers, all house made – simple, fresh, and delicious), has opened up some new opportunities here. Heck, we even have digital HD television now.

Look for us to expand our bar area into our (mostly) empty dining room, creating a warm, comforting, atmosphere with booths, tvs, and, hopefully, a second bar. Hard wood floors are the next addition and we hope to see more folks returning for casual meals, great beer, and good times. Damn, this sounds like a commercial. [Yes...] So, I’ll wrap it up.

I just wanted everyone to know that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. After many phone calls, I finally got a return call from a woman who had paid a deposit to host her rehearsal dinner here tomorrow night. We had not heard from her and needed her menu. She told me, “We were under the impression that you were going out of business, so we found another place.”

Well, you can imagine how deflating that can be. True, I brought these rumors on myself by making a public request for help. Well, we did get some. Now, I must quash the backlash of that unconventional approach and get this thing back on track.

If the Phillies hold up their end [and they have, and they are!], we’ll have Philadelphia Philsner [which Chris described as "the first red pilsner." What's a red pilsner, I asked. I don't know either, he replied, but we're making one!] on tap in time for the NLCS. Fugazi Lager is pouring now, with Octoberfest on-deck. The Phils are battling and so are we. Please don’t think we’ve given up and are anything but going strong!

Cheers!"

And that's the news from Lafayette Hill. Good news, because I'd truly hate to lose the General: the historic spot (the building dates from 1741), the closeness to my daughter's school (awfully convenient), and Chris and Russ Czajka's excellent, award-winning beers. So...come on out and support your local brewpubs -- yes, all of them -- but if you usually overlook the General, or you're pissed about something that happened to you there five years ago, make a special effort. It's really too great a potential treasure to lose.

*Before any of you jump on it, this is the original Twain quote, not "Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated." You can see an image of the hand-written original here. For every Wikipedia screw-up, the Internet brings us a correction to years of misinformation. Well...maybe for every 50 Wiki-screw-ups...and yes, obviously, reports of the death of Seen Through A Glass were an exaggeration as well. I've been gone for a week, a very busy week, but I'm back, and I may even post to the PLCB and Session Beer Project blogs. And San Francisco WhiskyFest is this Friday, so...fun, fun, fun!