You can’t ask for any better weather during January in Minnesota. 45 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. There’s a chance I might actually get to see my driveway after most of the ice and snow melts off.
Today I decided to try and live blog my Furious brew day as best I could, providing video updates each significant step along the way. It gets a little cumbersome trying to video record everything you’re doing, especially when you sometimes need two hands for pulling pots off burners or getting your immersion chiller set up. But I’ll see what I can do to keep everyone apprised of the situation.
1:45 pm CST – Heating the mash water
2:03 pm CST – Mashing in and hop schedule
3:05 pm CST – Beginning the sparge
3:50 pm CST – Beginning the boil, first hop infusion
4:15 pm CST – Sanitizing
5:10 pm CST – Chilling the wort and pitching yeast
It’s been a little while since I’ve brewed, and I’ve been dying to make a nice IPA to complement my other homebrew creations I recently bottled. So last night I swung over to Midwest Supplies and picked up the ingredients in hopes that I’ll be able to get out into the garage this Saturday and brew it up. Temps are supposed to be in the mid to high 30′s, so I’ll likely be out there in shorts and a T-shirt given the ridiculously arctic weather we’ve had of late. No, seriously…people in Minnesota are weird that way.
Here’s the recipe for a single mash infusion (5 gallons):
9.75 lbs Golden Promise pale malt from Scotland (same used by The Macallan)
1.5 lbs Caramunich I
0.25 lbs Crystal 55
0.5 oz Warrior hops (boil)
0.5 oz Magnum hops (boil)
1.6 oz Amarillo hops (boil)
1.6 oz Simcoe hops (boil)
1 oz Amarillo (dry hop)
2 oz Simcoe (dry hop)
Wyeast 1335 British Ale II
Check out the recipe link above for the specific mash temp and hop schedule, as the Amarillo and Simcoe are metered throughout the boil (a little like DFH 60 Minute). This recipe is supposed to deliver nearly 99 IBUs and an OG of 1.060.
I’ll be getting my yeast starter going tonight so I can be ready to go Saturday afternoon. I’ll try to take some video of the production and post over the weekend.
Occasionally, I travel for work, and get access to some pretty swank hotels now and again. First thing I usually do when I get to a hotel room is check out the mini-bar. Not that I ever partake in the $10 Snickers. But it’s just nice to know what you’re dealing with.
But what continually surprises me about these places, no matter how nice, is the consistently low quality of alcohol offered in what many would consider high-end accommodations. It’s not like people who can afford the rates on these rooms are just dying to get back to their 2,000 square foot Presidential Suite to quench their thirst with a Bud Light. But that’s what’s usually available, if you’re lucky.
Such was the case during our honeymoon when I walked into our suite in Mexico, a fantastic room overlooking a palm dotted swimming pool, perfectly situated to catch the Gulf breeze as it rolled in off the ocean. Given my previous travel experiences, I didn’t expect much from my all-inclusive resort when it came to beer. I’d been mentally preparing myself the whole plane trip down for what I could only assume was going to be some pretty awful macro garbage. I mean, with hundreds of self-serve bar taps located all across the resort property, it’s not like the place was going to be offering up Dogfish Head 90 Minute or Westmalle Tripel*.
After I walked into the room and dropped my suitcase next to the bed, I apprehensively cracked the door on the mini-fridge. I could only imagine what swill was awaiting me. Well, much to my surprise, it wasn’t Corona. Instead, two slightly chilled cans of Modelo Especial gleamed back at me in the soft light of the mini-fridge. Great. I shut the door, and filed the knowledge of the two cans away into the far reaches of my brain, hoping for better pickings at the hotel lobby bar.
Fast forward a couple days. After a long morning laying around by the pool sipping mojitos, I drunkenly wandered back to the room for a mid-afternoon siesta. Instead of laying down right away, I decided I’d settle in to read my book on the patio. The setting couldn’t have been more relaxing. Light breeze taking the 85 degree edge off, palm trees gently swaying with leaves peacefully rustling in the wind. Even though I’d just eaten lunch, I realized I had a little craving for some peanuts from the mini-fridge, which in actuality weren’t peanuts at all but some kind of strange Mexican nut that were much crunchier and more pleasing than your run-of-the-mill jar of Planters. I opened the fridge to grab the bag of nuts (don’t ask me why they were in the fridge), and briefly caught the cans of Modelo Especial out of the corner of my eye. I stood there for a moment, staring at them. They stared back, not saying a thing. But yet, it was like they were taunting me. They wanted to be opened. And I was just the guy to do it.
I capitulated, going against my better judgment. After all, I was a little tipsy and wanted to keep the party going. And what are peanuts (or unfamiliar Mexican nuts) without a beer?
Modelo Especial poured into a plastic hotel cup with a flimsy head of large and rocky bubbles that quickly dissipated, just barely masking what was almost certain to be an offensively bad lager beneath. I think my main problem was that I didn’t serve it ice cold, as most macro lagers are at least “drinkable” that way. But the mini-fridge had barely been able to keep the can cooler than room temperature, which only accentuated the seriously corn-like aroma. The taste was relatively non-descript, pretty much like your standard American macro lager. Just plain bad. There was definitely nothing especial about it. I tried choking down half the glass, but decided it wasn’t really worth it. I was on vacation after all. No need to punish myself unnecessarily when I was within short walking distance of anejo tequila.
Rating: D+
* Note to self: Open resort that serves the entire line of Dogfish Head for free. As much as guests want. Charge $1,000 a night. Retire at age 35.
I’m the guy that shows up at a Chilean wine tasting and asks about the beer selection.
Well, to be fair, Dark Horse Reserve Special Black Bier was offered to me moments after I walked in the front door of my friends’ home who happened to be hosting said wine event the other night. So, I of course partook in this very nice American Strong Ale before I dove into about a dozen Chilean reds including malbecs, cabernet sauvignons and merlots. No better way to screw up your palette for wine than with a rich and flavorful ale.
I’d heard of Dark Horse out of Michigan, but had never tried any of their offerings to this point. The fact that this is categorized as an American Strong Ale struck me as a bit odd, as it came off much more like a porter to me. But I guess that designation is kind of a catch-all for any beer over 7% ABV. And this one qualifies coming in at 7.5%.
Really nice and rich dark coloring poured into a wine glass. Aroma is that of coffee, roasted malt and chocolate. Not much in the way of hops. Relatively thin mouthfeel, but a nice molasses flavor, followed by a somewhat bitter finish. Overall, pretty drinkable. I’d definitely try more of their stuff if it’s in the same quality realm as this one. By far the best thing I imbibed that night, aside from possibly the Montes Malbec 2007.
First, I bottled my Dubbel Deuce and managed to squeak out close to 2 cases, 46 bottles to be exact. I’m dealing with a pretty nasty head cold at the moment, so I couldn’t smell a hell of a lot. But the small sample that I could smell and taste from the bottling bucket seemed pretty nice. Classically Belgian with a hint of dark fruits and candi sugar. I pasted on labels for this one as well, which are admittedly amateurish and ridiculous (much like my similarly juvenile barleywine labels). I’ll need to invest in some decent label making software. Microsoft Clip Art isn’t cutting it.
After the dubbel was complete, I sanitized my keg and a case of bottles for the long awaited raspberry imperial stout. Smelled absolutely fantastic coming out of the secondary. Roasted coffee, dark chocolate, toffee, and of course balanced by the sweet aroma of raspberries. Color was also great, dark milk chocolate. I’m really looking forward to this one. I made up 24 bottles for longer term storage, and kegged the remaining 3 gallons for immediate enjoyment. I’m hoping to give it a shot later tonight once it has a few hours to force carbonate.
That brings my current total of available homebrew to just over six cases between the dubbel, raspberry stout, barleywine and Summit Winter Ale clone. Combined with my commercial stuff, I have entirely too much beer on hand for one man to handle alone. Good thing Super Bowl Sunday is just around the corner.
There are a few things I plan on incorporating into my house after spending a week in Mexico getting married on the beaches of Playa del Carmen.
First, a swim-up bar right off the kitchen. Wouldn’t be that big of a deal to construct. Knock out the underutilized corner of the room, lay in a fiberglass pool lining that extends out into the backyard near the patio and flower garden, and build a beautifully appointed marble bar complete with taps and plenty of shelf space for high-end liquor. I’m talking extra anejo tequila. And plenty of it.
Second, a massage bench, complete with Spanish speaking masseuse, overlooking the 50 yards of white sand that I’d haul in to cover my entire back yard near the swim-up bar. This one is actually more for my wife, as I hate massages. The feeling of people touching my back just plain creeps me out for some reason. But the thought of having 24×7 access to this luxury would make me feel pretty damn good.
Third, a buffet. But I’m not talking about a few card tables set up with Sterno cans heating day-old chicken cordon bleu and powdery mashed potatoes. I mean an endless selection of the finest cuilinary delights from around the world, perfectly cooked to your taste at whatever time you want it. People politely asking if you’d like another mojito with lunch. Wondering if you’d like them to seat you closer to the beach-front tables, or under the swaying palm providing the perfect amount of shade from the tropical sun. And lots of soft-serve ice cream. Oh yes…endless streams of soft-serve ice cream topped with granola, coconut shavings and melted dark and white chocolate.
And fourth, a Cuban humidor stocked with only the finest cigars from our least favorite trading partner. And I’m not talking about the fake shit rolled in the Dominican Republic and sheathed with the bullshit wrapper with black and white circles. Uh uh. I’m talking real Cohibas, Bolivars, Montecristos, and San Cristobals as long and thick as your arm. The kind that take you half a day to pull your way through, each magnificent puff eliciting the distinct smell of REAL tobacco. No fillers or sawdust in there. Real tobacco, something we’re not accustomed to here in the U.S. Paired perfectly with a phenomenal scotch, like Macallan 25 or (more realistically) Johnnie Walker Blue.
Sigh. If you haven’t picked up by now, our Mexican wedding/honeymoon trip was beyond fantastic. For anyone that cares, I’d HIGHLY recommend spending your next vacation down at Barcelo Maya, one of the nicest all-inclusive joints around. Swimming pools the size of football fields, snaking in and out of endless swim-up bars, fantastic grilles and buffets, and of course overlooking the shockingly beautiful aqua blue waters of the Caribbean. We spent much of our time at the Palace, the high-end part of the resort, and from the moment you get there until the time you leave you feel like royalty. A regular hacienda owner in command of a staff of hundreds all dedicated to making every one of your requirements a reality. Well, almost every requirement. Because the resort fell completely on its face when it came to providing good beer. But, that was expected, and I wasn’t necessarily disappointed since I was intraveneously hooked up to a continuous flow of anejo tequila, high-end scotch and beautifully-mixed mojitos that would sneak up and knock you on the back of the head with a conch shell.
It was unequivocally the best time of our lives. Look for more on the beer (and the rare anejo tequila not available in the U.S. I brought back) in the not-too-distant future.
The Captain’s Chair is taking a bit of a siesta for a couple weeks.
I’ll be flying down to sunny Playa del Carmen in Mexico this week to get married in what is certain to be the trip of a lifetime for me and my beautiful bride. Well, technically it will be a renewal of our vows, since we took care of the legal stuff this last weekend. But I’m sure I’ll bring back lots of good stories and reviews. And I can already guarantee you that Corona will not taste any better (or worse) in Mexico than it does here.
John Hoffoss is proof there is a god. Or, at least still some really nice and generous people out there willing to help out a lowly beer blogger and homebrewer like myself.
Got a brief email from Mr. Hoffoss last Monday with the simple subject line of “16 Grit”. It was nearly enough to make me jump right out of my chair. He said he found my blog, read my sad plea, and was open to sharing his single growler of it with me in exchange for some other good stuff, like Darkness. Only problem was, I’d of course guzzled down all my bombers (again, I’m not the most patient person in the world) and didn’t have any left to offer. No problem, he said. Just bring over something nice to share.
A few days later I started my way over to John’s house in Minneapolis after work with some DFH 60 Minute, North Coast Old Rasputin and Goose Island Bourbon County Stout 2008 in tow. Seemed like a reasonable swap for some 16 Grit, especially considering some of my stuff wasn’t readily available in the Twin Cities and I had about zero chance of ever trying the new Surly offering again (barring any unforeseen changes in Surly’s production plans). However, before I left for the beer summit, I was sure to give my fiance John’s home address, link to his blog, and access to my email account in case I didn’t end up coming home and the cops needed a place to start looking. I envisioned Horatio Caine from CSI Miami slowly taking off his jet black sunglasses, staring at the ground with his “can’t look anyone in the eye while I turn every one of my lines into a matter of intense gravity” method of over-acting, and questioning my friends and family — “So, a fatal cocktail of beer and blogging. 16 Grit was rougher on this guy than he ever would have imagined. You play with the devil, you wake up in hell.” But, much as I suspected, turned out John was nothing but a scholar and a gentleman. And even cooler, a pretty avid homebrewer like me.
Once I got to John’s house and made nice with introductions, he walked me through his brewing operation, first showing me his really sleek mini kegerator he got for Christmas. Really cool, and even better, he’d already kegged his Belgian strong dark ale for all to enjoy. And enjoy I did. Seriously good stuff, especially considering John has only been homebrewing for about a year, with extracts to boot. I was very impressed with the quality of his brew. We checked out his cellar where he stores a number of his brews while they condition in the bottle, and took a look at his primary fermentation area, a corner of his basement where he’d constructed a light-resistant baffle for his wort to properly ferment without interruption from snooping pets or curious friends wondering why the bubbles keep coming up and out of that funny looking air lock thingy on the top of the 5 gallon pail. Smart.
As we discussed homebrew and enjoyed what was a remarkably solid Belgian strong dark ale, I realized I heard a faint voice coming from a closed-off back room of the house. “Oh, that’s my friend Tom, he’s live on talk radio commenting on the local political scene.” Really? Well, apparently Tom was Tom Elko, a name that vaguely rang a bell for me as a PR person in the Twin Cities. Tom had spent some time with our local NBC affiliate KARE-11, and was currently freelancing as an environmental/political reporter for some local media outlets, making him an expert on all things related to the ethanol industry and our governor Tim Pawlenty. Tom wandered into the room after his segment was over, looking for a refill of homebrew. We introduced ourselves, and immediately dove into a discussion on the degrees of narcissism related to blogging and posting on Twitter. The conversation took several turns from that point, evolving into the state of the local craft beer industry and why Dogfish Head’s cult following is cultivated through the use of compelling story hooks associated with each of their beers.
In the midst of all this discussion, we enjoyed Surly 16 Grit, poured from a growler with a fantastic rocky head. To say this beer is world class may be somewhat of an understatement. As is the Surly style, you’re assaulted right up front with a highly citric aroma, but it’s rounded off with a sweet caramel note. Actually reminiscent of a less potent version of DFH 120 Minute IPA. Absolutely fantastic. The taste is even better. Nothing short of ethereal. 130 IBU’s of the best DIPA you’ve ever had. A complete and pleasant mouthfeel, masking what is a dangerously potent 9% ABV. I very slowly savored each sip of the stuff, not wanting it to end.
We worked our way through most of the growler, at which point Tom decided to part ways. Too bad, because he missed out on what came next on the beer line-up, which included the aforementioned DFH 60 Minute, Goose Island Bourbon County Stout 2008 (ummm…phenomenal), and North Coast Old Rasputin Imperial Stout. About halfway through Old Rasputin, I was hit by something that I hadn’t felt in many, many years. The unfamiliar sensation of a jackhammer slamming me square in the forehead, signaling the advent of too much alcohol on my tiny little brain. I decided to just cut myself off right there, as I’d just enjoyed a sequential series of 9%, 6%, 13%, and 10% ABV brews in one short sitting. Wow.
To put me back on the right track, John graciously heated up some leftovers from Chang Mai Thai (some of the best pad thai in the city) so I wouldn’t go home on an empty stomach, and we continued our boozey discussions of homebrewing and the local political scene.
I gotta say, a very cool night with some very cool people. Made even better with some fantastic beers enjoyed by those that truly appreciate what a good beer can really be. Look forward to the next beer summit with my new friends. Thanks again to John for sharing his 16 Grit.
“If you took a bunch of dirty socks, put them in a tub of warm water, let it soak for a week, and then drank the water from that tub, this is what Frame Straightener tastes like to me.”
— The Fiance
I regrettably concur.
It kills me to pan a beer from a local brewer (and when I say local I mean rural southwestern Minnesota). I’m all about supporting what is a growing craft beer industry in the region. But this beer makes it real hard for me to get behind what seems to be a continuing trend for Brau Brothers. I’ve had a couple other offerings from them, and have been more than underwhelmed by all of them. This one, however, takes the cake.
Supposed to be a Belgian pale ale, but honestly is one of the most undrinkable beers I’ve had, made worse from the fact that it’s produced by what I’d like to think would be a scrappy, innovative microbrewery. This is part of their Single Batch limited release series (I think they shipped 1400 cases of it), and in some ways I’m thankful. Frame Straightener is more reminiscent to your standard macro than anything that resembles a Belgian. In fact, there’s something a little rancid about it. Terribly disappointing.
Pours nice with a decent ruby reddish coloring, very promising. Then it all falls apart. Offensively sour aroma. Like bad breath. You can just barely tell that it’s trying to be some kind of Belgian, as some yeast gets through, but it’s just incredibly weak. Taste is just as bad. More of the terribly sour characteristic, almost overpowering in how it hits the back of your tongue. When you take a couple sips and realize it’s going to be a chore to get through the entire 12 ounces, you know you’ve got yourself a pretty poor beer. I checked out Beer Advocate to determine if my experience was way off the mark, because maybe I’d gotten a tainted batch. I wanted to give Brau Brothers the benefit of the doubt. But unfortunately, most other reviews seemed to back up the less than desirable nature of this one (average rating C).
When I buy commercial beer at $11 a six pack that’s noticeably below the quality of what I can produce in my own amateur brewing operation, that’s not a good thing.
To be fair, I’ve never had a milk stout before, and wasn’t sure what to expect from Minneapolis Town Hall’s Festivus. Sounded interesting, and from some recent comments from fellow Twin Cities beer blogger dirtyspeed, I thought I’d head over and give a few of their holiday seasonals a try. I was actually more interested in their Jubilation IPA and Grinch’s Grog pale ale, but they were fresh out when I visited.
This review is a culmination of several sessions with Festivus, as the first glass I had didn’t give me a very good first impression. But, I eased into it over a couple different evenings, and grew to appreciate what they’ve done.
Pours with a nice creamy tan head, and very aromatic like a rich porter with deep roasted malt notes. A little bit of chocolate. But then you get the very slightest smell of curdled milk, which is a direct result of the lactose used in the brewing process. For many, that might be a turn off, and it was to me to be perfectly honest, but knowing this is the style I pressed on hoping things would improve. Historically speaking, milk stouts were originally brewed near the turn of the 20th century and given to nursing mothers as they were thought to be nutritious. Completely irresponsible knowing what we do today, but remember, one of the most famous taglines of the era was “Guinness, It’s Good For You!”
The flavor is very robust. Again, a very pleasant porter/stout characteristic of smoky malt and sweet caramel mixed with that tell-tale lactose finish. Kind of like drinking that first gulp of really cold and refreshing milk only to realize a split second later it’s turned. That might be a bit harsh, but once I got over that part of it the beer actually started to grow on me a bit. Very creamy and rich mouthfeel, a pleasant texture which I enjoyed.
Based on Festivus, I’m going to have to say that milk stouts are probably not my thing. I also recognize Town Hall can’t brew up a masterpiece every time they fire up the brew kettle. So overall an interesting little stout that I may or may not try again.
