Toasting John Harris' Thirty Years

John Harris' 30-Year Anniversary Fête
6 pm, Thursday April 28th
Ecliptic Brewing (825 N. Cook St)

We've reached the stage of maturity in American brewing when each year brings a raft of milestones for one of the founding brewers or breweries. I comment on very few because just surviving doesn't count as much of an accomplishment on its own. There are some exceptions, and John Harris, who will be celebrating his thirty years as a professional brewer next Thursday, is certainly one.

Source

Let's trot briefly through the highlights. In 1986, he started his brewing career at the McMenamins, got a couple of years experience, and then joined Gary Fish to help launch a little start-up brewpub in Bend called Deschutes. In those early years, John gave the world Cascade Ale, Bachelor Bitter, Black Butte Porter, Mirror Pond, Obsidian Stout, and Jubelale. He came back to Portland to work for Full Sail at their RiverPlace brewery, and stayed there twenty years before starting his new solo venture, Ecliptic, in 2013. More than any other brewer, his fingerprints are all over Oregon beer.

In the press release to mark the event, John included this invitation, which has a delightful little allusion in it:

I started Brewing in April of 1986 at the Hillsdale Brewpub in Portland. It has been a long strange ride!

I am very proud of all my years making beer for a living. I have created many beers over those years but there is one I am linked to more than any other. I brewed a special beer, Reflection Nebula Pale Ale, to celebrate this 30 year milestone. I invite you to join me for a beer to celebrate on April 28th at 6pm.

Cheers,
John

What would you likely see your reflection in? A mirror, you say? I think we can connect the dots well enough.

No brewer more deserves a victory lap than John, and this one is open to the public. I expect it will be a mob scene, because I know more than a few people who speak sotto voce in reverence when they catch sight of John--as if the pope had just walked by. And they're sort of right.  I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Full Sail Voting to Scrap ESOP, Merge With Investment Firm

A fascinating tidbit I thought I'd pass along.  Today, Jamie Emmerson and Irene Firmat announced that the company is considering whether to end its Employee Stock Ownership Plan (ESOP) and merge with an investment firm.  This is a little different than the standard A-B news we've been hearing lately.  John Holl explains:

The number today of employee owners—called shareholders—is 78, and on Tuesday Founder and CEO Irene Firmat and Executive Brewmaster Jamie Emmerson sent a letter to those folks, asking them to vote on a proposal to merge with a San Francisco-based investment firm....

Shareholders were given ballots earlier today and those votes will be tallied at the end of the month. If approved, the investors could take ownership by mid-March. For the existing shareholders there will be a stock-option plan, but it will no longer be an ESOP company, but Firmat said it will enable employees to benefit along with the company as it continues to grow....

Firmat noted in an interview that the investors do not have a brewing background, so they will need the existing employees with their wide range of expertise to stay on and helm Full Sail. If the vote is successful, Firmat and Emmerson plan on staying at the brewery they founded in 1987.

I am not close enough to Full Sail nor smart enough about business to be able to parse this, but maybe some smart reader can give us some insight as to the pluses and minuses for the employees.

Czech Lagers in Hood River

Update.  Scroll down to look at the comments where Full Sail's brewmaster, Jamie Emmerson, comments on his background and technique.


The world of Czech lagers is mostly hidden to Americans.  We know of "Bohemian pilsners" and assume that's all there is to the country that invented the world's most famous style.  But the Czech Republic has a brewing tradition as rich as Germany's and if you have the good fortune to visit, you will find more than golden lagers there.  The thing we know as pilsner is called "light lager" in the Czech Republic--světly ležák ("pilsner" is reserved for the beer made at Urquell).  But you'll also find things called tmavé,  černé, and polotmavé in hues ranging from light amber to black.

The Czech system for producing beer runs along two axes--strength and color.  On the one side you have beers of different strength categories based on original gravity (they've changed, so old hands need to update their vocabulary): stolní (table beer up to 6° P), výčepní (7° to 10°), ležák (11° to 12°), and speciál (13° +).  On the other, the definitions run from pale to black: světlé (pale), polotmavé (half dark), tmavé (dark), and černé (black).  Anything on one side may be matched to anything on the other, so you could have strong pales or table darks--or anything in-between.

This all seems academic to the average American, though, right?  When was the last time you saw a tmavé in the grocery store? It might have been more recently than you know.

Several years ago, Full Sail's James Emmerson tried a Czech tmavé and had an epiphany: it would be the perfect style to compliment Session Lager.  "When I had the tmavé, to me that was the yin to Session’s yang, just a perfect beer to pair with the all-malt helles, which is what Session is."  And thus was born Session Black, a stealth tmavé.  I was working on a chapter about dark lager and I called Jamie up to talk about Black, which I knew was inspired by the Czech dark.  I was surprised to learn that Session Fest and the current LTD seasonal--LTD 06--are also Czech-inspired, and that Full Sail has quietly been brewing up a portfolio of Czech beers.

When Session Black was released, I described it as a schwarzbier--and was later corrected.  Last week I called and asked Jamie what he saw as the difference was between German dark and black beers and the Czech versions:

The difference between a dunkel, schwarzbier, and tmavé style is the Munich dark being really malt forward in that Munich malt character. The schwarzbier being drier with that roast character. And then the tmavé was an interesting balance, with that roast being subdued and that malt-forward character wasn’t so surrounded by the Munich malt character. Maybe it’s a different brewing philosophy. The Czech beers in general have a really nice creaminess that [is] different than say the kind of malt character that came from a Munich beer. 

For my money, that last point is really the key.  Czech beers are made with very different malts than German beers.  Czechs use floor-malted grain that is less modified than German malts.  Most larger German breweries have abandoned decoction (though it's more common in Franconia and Bavaria), but it's typical in Czech breweries.  The combination of the less-modified malts and decoction create that creaminess--a quality that runs through all the Czech lagers I tried.  He agreed:

Certainly when you’re using the kind of malt they’re using, it lends itself more to decoction than the kind of malt we’re using. The degree of modification here does a lot of the work for you, but it takes away some of the opportunities as well. The challenge for us it to use American malts and specialty malts to try to recreate those flavors. Is it the same? Probably not—but it’s pretty close. 

Full Sail first released Session Fest last year, and it is probably the country's only regular-rotation polotmavé.  Emmerson: "No roast in it all all—it’s all caramel malts, Munich, and pale malts. It’s got that same kind of creamy mid-palate again. After bringing the Session Black, then, the idea of a polotmavé for Session Fest was a natural."

Okay, we have the half-dark and dark, what about black?  That would be the LTD 06:   "The černé is one I’ve always wanted to do, and the LTD 6 allowed that, because it’s a much larger beer. It’s very dopplebock-y, but that whole dark-roasted thing at the top created an interesting character to that beer."  If you haven't tried it yet, go buy a sixer.  It's pretty spectacular beer.  The balance between the burnished smoothness of the malt with that twist of roast is fantastic, and it's a perfect winter beer.

Emmerson has also made a strong Czech beer, inspired in part by Budvar's Speciální pivo called Bud (not sold, as you may have guessed by the name, in the US).  Emmerson wanted to create "an homage to the Czech thing of super-simple," and LTD 04 was just pilsner malt and Willamette hops.

Of course LTD 03 was the one beer people might have recognized as a Czech beer--it was a pilsner.  Or, as Jamie probably wished to call it, a světly ležák.

So that's pretty much the full range of Czech beers, and you can find them right here in Oregon.  I still think it's worth that trip to Prague you were always planning on taking, but maybe these beers will tide you over in the meantime.

Twenty Five Years of Full Sailing

Although craft brewing dates back to the 1970s, the years before 1985 saw relatively few new arrivals.  In 1985, the country had just 105 breweries total (five in Oregon)--a few more than it had in 1980.  In 1990, though, it jumped to 286.  It was during that period that Full Sail came into being--officially, a quarter century ago today.  It followed the defunct Cartright, McMenamins, BridgePort, Widmer, the McMenamins, and Portland Brewing (and of course, Henry Weinhard).  I tend to recall that being a time of amazing growth in the industry, but even by the end of the decade, only Oregon Trail (also 25 this year), Deschutes, Rogue, and Wild River would be in existence.  Full Sail, the first Oregon micro outside Portland, was one of the key founders of what would become Beervana.

We'll trot through the highlights in a moment, but since I'm an elderly gentleman with actual memory of these times (I actually started sneaking into McMenamins the same year Full Sail was founded), I thought I'd pull up the wayback machine.  It is difficult in a time when people know specific hop varietals to imagine a time when people didn't know the difference between lagers and ales.  That time was 1987.  Breweries had the unenviable task of selling people a product they were unfamiliar with.  Even the idea of "ale" required a moment of song and dance.

In my little world, Full Sail was the first brewery to embrace the hop.  It is difficult to imagine it now, but Amber seemed like rocket fuel.  One of the theories about craft beer was that it couldn't be too aggressive or too weird.  Ambers had the virtue of a sweetish caramel backbone to soothe the fears of the uninitiated, and they were a big deal.  Full Sail's, though, was not a sweet bomb--it had quite vivid hopping.  That alone illustrates how different things were.  I recall sitting in the back yard of a friend drinking Full Sails, one after another, marveling at how good our fortune was.  A little later on, the brewery started making a beer called Equinox ESB, which was almost iridescent green in its hoppiness.  (In my early days as a beer writer, I called it Oregon's best hoppy ale.)

Here's another odd fact: in 1987, none of the Oregon breweries were bottling their beer.  Full Sail had the distinction of being the first--not with Amber, but a beer called Golden Ale.  (Breweriana geeks take note.)  Full Sail took occupancy of the old Diamond Fruit cannery (abandoned 15 years earlier) and installed their brewery, including a wicked little bottling line.  That little speedster did six bottles a minute--but it was the second fastest line in the state. The brewery was a rather optimistic 15-barrel set-up, though, and this positioned the brewery to grow.

After Golden Ale came Imperial Porter and Wassail (interestingly, Jubelale was one of Deschutes' first beers, too--Oregonians are drawn to winter beers).  Amber, the brewery's fourth beer, didn't come until 1989, but it debuted with a splash.  Not only was it an instant hit in Oregon, it won the gold in that year's GABF.  In that era from the mid-80s to the mid-90s--call it BIPA, before IPA)--two styles of beer dominated sales, hefeweizen and amber.

(The story of American amber ale is worthy of its own post, but for now, let this thumbnail suffice.  In a geography marked out by colors--golden, pale, brown, black--amber was an obvious invention.  The beer itself is really just a pale ale, but in the US, the two styles forked.  Pales are lighter bodied and hoppier, ambers thicker and sweeter.  Pales highlight hops, ambers find a balance point closer to the malt, but always with characteristic American hopping.  You could say American amber is really just a strong bitter, but because of its density and those hops, the two styles don't taste all that much alike.)

James Emmerson and Irene Firmat (courtesy Full Sail)

In the 90s, Full Sail's fortunes swung wildly.  It was one of the mid-sized breweries that dropped a lot of money into a huge expansion, building a 210-barrel brewhouse in 1995.  That was at the moment the market was oversaturated with beer, lots of it made badly by opportunists trying to cash in on "microbrew," and Full Sail stumbled.  In the late 1990s, Full Sail survived a takeover bid by Vijay Mallya, the Indian beer magnate, and became employee-owned.  Those were grim times not just for Full Sail, but everyone in craft brewing.  Watching Mallya circle the company like a vulture for months seemed like a metaphor for the industry. Of course, Full Sail persevered and managed to restructure as an employee-owned company.  That, too, seemed metaphoric, and soon Full Sail and the industry would be humming again.

Other highlights:

• In 1998, following a visit by Macallan's master distiller, Full Sail began their barrel-aging program.  For those of foggy memory, that was quite early.
• In 1999, Full Sail brewed their first fresh hop ale (also very early).
• In 2005, the brewery released Session Lager, a pretty radical move for a craft brewery--but a prescient anticipation of where the market was headed.  They added Session Black in 2009.
• In 2006, Full Sail continued its lager experimentation with the LTD series.  (For old timers like me who remember the brewery's early days, the lager development was really unexpected.)
• Began the Brewer's Share program in 2008, again anticipating the interest in seasonals and offbeat beers.
• Installed a mash filter in 2010.  This may be insider baseball to some, but for brewing nerds, it's pretty amazing.  Read about it here.

The mash filter.

Breweries are, in the aggregate, very good corporate citizens.  Full Sail has always been a leader in that sphere.  They're one of the greenest breweries around and have won several awards for their sustainability.  Thanks in part to the mash filter, they now only use 2.5 gallons of water for every gallon of beer they make, well below the industry standard of about 7 to 1.  They're not only employee-owned, but also regularly cited as one of the best places to work.  It is part of the nature of craft breweries to be generous and collegial with one another, but Full Sail goes even one step beyond that.  When head brewer Matt Swihart decided to open Double Mountain literally a stone's throw from Full Sail, he was encouraged and supported by his erstwhile employer.  I think it's no coincidence that Hood River (pop: 7200) has eight breweries in or nearby the town.  Another alum, Jason Kahler, recently opened Solera in Parkdale just down the road.

I've been rattling on for quite awhile here, so I'll stop.  Feel free to add your own memories, additions, and thoughts in the comments.  And if you're near the Horse Brass or in Hood River tonight, consider joining one of the celebrations.  They'll be kicking things off at 5pm in the Tasting Room in Hood River, and have a big line-up of beers, including the new anniversary doppelbock, at the Brass starting at 6pm.

John Harris joined Full Sail in '92 and left this year.

When Brettanomcyes Sneak In

For the most part, American breweries are now happy to tango with brettanomyces--at least on their own terms.  There are a few who have no interest in wild yeasts, and Full Sail is one--at least, I don't recall any forays they may have made into the funk. Or anyway, intentional forays.  I discovered last night that they have made at least one unintentionally.

Earlier this year, I went out to the brewery to see the latest year-old Top Sail Imperial Porter come out of the barrels.  As you know, every year, Full Sail puts a strong dark ale in barrels and lets them sit there a year; then they blend the barrels together and release them as Top Sail or Black Gold Imperial Stout.  When I visited, they were tasting beer as it came out of the barrel, flagging any batches that had gone south.  Barrels are not precise instruments, and in a certain percentage of them, something goes wrong.  Anything that tasted a bit funky got this treatment:

But here's the thing.  Brettanomyces work very slowly.  I've been in three different barrel rooms where a brewer has discovered a cask that a resident colony, heretofore unbeknownst to the brewery, has begun souring the beer inside.  It takes months for them to reproduce enough that they make their presence known.  it's easy to miss them until they've affected the beer sufficiently.  Their elusiveness is compounded in a process like Full Sail's, where all the barrels are blended together before bottling. 

After my visit, Jamie Emmerson gave me a couple bottles of vintage beers from Full Sail's own cellar.  One of the bottles was an '09 Black Gold, which I cracked last night.  It's no secret where I'm headed.  In 2009, one of those barrels had a bit of the wild culture going on--and after three years, it finally expressed itself. The bottle I had was still fairly mild--just a bit tart and vinous--but it was unmistakable.  Indeed, the flavor was probably not far from the historic London porters of the 19th century.  It had a certain refined quality to it that I quite enjoyed.  Full Sail probably won't be excited to hear it, but that's what happens when you use old whisky barrels--sometimes they harbor wild things.

If anyone else has '09s laying around, I'd be interested to hear what they taste like.
_________________
PHOTO: DOCTOR ROSE

Birth of a Porter

In an annual rite, brewers at Full Sail opened the barrels of aging Top Sail Imperial Porter yesterday. The beer had been gestating for a year (four days shy, actually, if you're a stickler for precision) in those barrels, and what came out was not only different from what went in--but different from what was in the next barrel over.

This year Full Sail used 18-year-old barrels of Maker's Mark, Wild Turkey, and rye from Jim Beam. The idea is to get a blend of flavors from different types of barrels. Last year, Full Sail used two types of barrels, and for a short time they had examples of all three variants on tap at the Pilsner Room--a blend of all barrels, and then one each that came from the two different types. (Here's my review from last year's iteration.) Yesterday, though, I got to sample the beer as it was coming directly out of the barrels, pre-blend (pic here of the blogger in action). This is slightly different because, while the different types of barrels contribute a character of their own, each barrel also has its own character.

Barrel-aging is an organic process. The brewer's work has been completed by the time the beer goes into the casks, and what happens next is uncontrolled biochemistry. The beer pulls the liquor from the wood and it blends together, adding alcohol and aromatic compounds. Oxygen slowly seeps through the grain of the wood and interacts with the beer. The various compounds within the beer continue to evolve and interact. Each barrel becomes a singular ecosystem for these changes, and at the end of a year, each one has a unique character. Cracking those barrels open after a year is a fascinating study in biology.

In general, the Maker's Mark barrels produced a decadent beer--extremely rich and loaded with chocolate and cherry flavors. The Wild Turkey was, as you might expect, hotter and thinner, with a sharp edge. The rye barrels were my faves overall--they were earthier, spicier, and drier. Those were just broad contours, though. Barrel to barrel, flavors varied quite a bit. Some were more aromatic, some flatter, some richer, and some, sadly, had gone wrong. One was full of aldehydes and a vicious higher alcohol and one had the beginnings of what I argued might be a tasty funk (though there was a troubling solvent note). Both got dumped, and I captured the tragedy with my trusty camera.

The beer is headed for a tank where it will rest and settle for a period before bottling and it should be available next month. Meanwhile, the next batch of bourbon casks are headed to Hood River, awaiting the 2013 vintage of Black Gold Imperial Stout. They've been doing this every year since 1998, and now they alternate the stout and porter every other year. I will be most fascinated to see how the final blend tastes.

Reviews: Widmer W '11, Lompoc Batch 69, and Full Sail Black Gold

Tis the season of big blacks. Last month I watched Upright brew their annual Oyster Stout, Fort George is in the midst of Stout Month, and at least three breweries have new stouts out on shelves.

Okay, they're not all called stouts: one is a Baltic porter. These all have a common ancestor, though. I reviewed a bit of the history on Wednesday of how porters became the first international style--go have a look if you missed it. English breweries were shipping strong porter to the Baltic states by the beginning of the 19th century. These were the ur-beers that led to the styles of imperial stouts and Baltic porters. For some reason, Russians felt locally-brewed porter wasn't much good, so they relied on imports. Elsewhere in the region, brewers did brew the style, and there the line split.

Over the centuries, Baltic porters emerged looking a little different from English imperial stouts. The porters produced in Poland and the Baltic states are mostly lagers. They are as strong in alcohol as imperial stouts (7-10%), but lighter-bodied. They are silkier and lighter, less gloppy. You often find roasty notes--sometimes so intense they bend toward the sour--or plummy port-like notes. Imperial stouts, by contrast are gloppy--they're dense and rich and generally very intense. Their intensity makes them a huge favorite of beer geeks--who strangely aren't anywhere near as charmed by their close kin, the Baltics.

I, however, am charmed by them all, and was delighted to see all these releases emerge at roughly the same time.

Widmer W '11 KGB Imperial Stout
Old-timers were not surprised to see KGB make it to the W series. It has been a Gasthaus favorite since 1998, although brewer Ben Dobler says each iteration is a little different. So was the bottled version, which Ben describes thus:

"We've always been right around 9-10% ABV, and 65-75Bu's. The main change in this version is the addition of Midnight Wheat from Briess. I think adding this malt helped round out some of the roughness and harshness we were getting by relying on Chocolate, Roast, and Black malt to give us color as well as flavor. The beer is ridiculously smooth, in my opinion. It surprised me how well we hid 9.3% ABV."

This beer was released more than a month ago, and I've heard quite different reactions in that time. Some of my friends raved, agreeing with Ben that the alcohol was very well-concealed. Others, however, have complained that the body is too thin for a Russian imperial; some also dispute Ben's characterization of smoothness and call the roastiness harsh. Fortunately, you have me to resolve these differences

Tasting Notes
In the manner of Solomon, I shall split the baby: both fans and critics are correct. KGB is an intense beer, highlighted by a massive wallop of roasted barley. People are more or less susceptible to intense flavors; some love 97% cacao dark chocolate while others (like me), need a little moderation. Widmer pushes the envelope. Interestingly, there's a competing sweetness that runs through the palate, long and sweet, with a molasses finish.

The body? Definitely thinner than most imperial stouts, which got me thinking. Since this must surely have been intentional, what was the goal with KGB? I swished and swallowed, noting a bit of soot, as if from Victorian England. But that roast note--so similar to some Baltics I've had. This is a beer that goes a long way toward reuniting the two branches of the family.

My first pour came last month, when Widmer and the Brew Crew unveiled their latest Collaborator. In attendance was Rob Widmer, who noted that he was excited to throw some in the cellar and see how it ages. I agree: that roast note will fall back a bit, and I expect the sweet note to deepen and acquire some of the port of a Baltic. In six months or a year, this may seem a lot more like a Baltic porter than an imperial stout--and will probably reach its potential. Rating it now, I'd call it a B, but I expect it could rise substantially--and possibly even be an A before it's all done. [9.3%, 21.5° P, 65 IBUs]


Lompoc Batch 69
As is their wont, the folks from Lompoc have provided exactly one detail about this beer: it was lagered. Beyond that, I have no idea what ingredients or processes they used. That detail is important, though. Mostly the American Baltics I've seen have been fermented with ale strains and taste a lot more like imperial stouts.

Tasting Notes
This is the second year for Batch 69, and last year's (which I missed), was much lauded. I'm not sure if the recipe changed or I'm just out of step with the raters on BA and RateBeer, but I was less impressed. It looks great--an ebony body and a mousse-like mocha head. There wasn't a lot of nose, but I picked up chocolate and nuts ... and cabbage. Hmm. The palate was appropriately lager smooth, but there was not much depth to the flavor. It's mainly sweet, lacking any roast. And the sweet is overdone--by about half-way through the first glass, my mouth was coated. The cabbage is there, too, mildly, but not tastily. (Perhaps the Lompockians were taking the Polish inspiration too literally?) I'd be willing to give it another shot, but based on this bottle, I'd rate it a C+. [7.7%]


Full Sail Black Gold
The imperial stouts made by American breweries are, often as not, aged in bourbon barrels. This innovation takes us yet another step away from what I expect Barclay Perkins tasted like in 1825. Full Sail alternates between Imperial Porter and Black Gold, brewing one each year. They secure the barrels over a year in advance, then let that year's batch sit for a full 12 months on the wood, aging. The result is always a characteristically American product, rich and sweet, full of candy and chocolate sweetness. But not all are created equally.

This year's Black Gold was aged in 18- and 20-year old Kentucky bourbon barrels. Wholly apart from the contribution of bourbon, barrel-aging is its own art. Wood breathes and becomes a part of the environment. If a barrel is kept cool or warm, wet or dry, these factors will affect what's inside--especially over the course of two decades. Full Sail blended the batches together to produce the final version of Black Gold, but as a service to beer bloggers, they kegged up a tiny portion straight from the barrels and served them straight.

The beer aged in the 1990 barrels (just after Nirvana's debut "Bleach" came out) was incredibly smooth and sweet. Absolute decadence--and too much, for some people. (John Harris felt it was cloying.) But the beer aged in the '92 barrels (that was the year Bill Clinton was first elected president) was a little hot and sharp. I might have admired it more if it weren't served alongside the final version and the '90. I've seen a bit of speculation that the sharpness must come from the age difference in the barrels, but I doubt that. These are old barrels, and a 10% difference in age can't account for the harshness differential. I suspect, rather, that they were handled differently. For some reason, the '92 barrels ended up hotter and sharper.

The final version is the Goldilocks blend--just right. The hot notes and the intensely sweet notes from the two blends are smoothed out. The result is like liquid tiramisu--rich, chocolately, and creamy. A bit of the wood is present, and the bourbon provides a clear note, but not an oppressive one. Barrels breathe, which allow the flavor components of the beer to blend and harmonize more fully--something that hasn't happened yet in the KGB. Black Gold is released ready to drink, no aging necessary. (It will, of course, continue to evolve in the cellar.) I remembered a Black Gold that was insanely good and mentioned it to John. "2006," he said, without hesitation. That one is the standard against which other Black Golds will be measured, and 2011's batch is just a notch below. But just a notch--this is a very, very good beer. Since '06's was an A, I guess I'll call this an A-. Ah, screw it, let's call that '06 an A+ and leave this an A. [11.4%, 37 IBUs]


Update: I just got an email from Hopworks announcing the release of a tuned up Kronan:

Deep like the Baltic Sea and as massive as the Swedish ship Kronan sunk in its icy waters, our Bourbon Barrel-Aged Baltic Porter emerges from the depths after being stowed away for a year in Buffalo Trace Bourbon barrels. This beer brings to the surface a frothy tan head and rich aroma combining malt notes of chocolate, caramel and dark fruit with the essence of vanilla, smoke and oak of Bourbon. Made with bottom fermenting lager yeast, Kronan the Barbarian is as rich and strong as an Austrian actor but with more complexity. [9.2%, 19° P, 25 IBUs]

Two New Ones From Full Sail

No brewery has more identities than Full Sail. On the one hand, it's a venerable old micro that puts out classic American ales. On the other, it's the sole major Northwest brewery committed to selling lagers. On the third hand, it's a regional brewery trying to kick-start a segment that effectively died out a generation ago when Rainier, Oly, and Weinhard fell to consolidation. In December, the brewery offered new products in two of the three identities. (One imagines that the third, the Session wing of the brewery, is set for the foreseeable future.) Below are a couple reviews.

Bump in the Night Cascadian Dark Ale
CDAs are starting to look a little old hat, but the fact that Full Sail proudly proclaims the latest Brewmaster Reserve one is fuel to the fire for the movement to establish the style. It also indicates that Full Sail is shooting for the more specific sub-style of the larger hoppy black beer category. Black IPAs are effectively IPAs brewed with dark malts. The character of the hops and dark malts are left to the brewer--an IPA brewed with spicy Hallertauers and some color-darkening malts would be totally appropriate for "style." The attempt to carve out some terrain for the hop-growing Pacific Northwest has resulted in CDAs, which focus on citrusy/piney American hops. These are steeped in a tea of dark malts that produce coffee-like bitterness, another characteristic of the region. CDAs are black IPAs with flourishes characteristic of the region. (This actually helps exonerate partisans from the debate about where black IPAs were first invented.)

Full Sail follows these cues, and Bump in the Night is a 65-BU hop fest. Now, full disclosure: I'm not a fan of the style and therefore a poor judge. While I've grown to respect a few versions (Deschutes and Widmer), I haven't found any I love. Bump in the Night? Well, my sense is that it's not the strongest example. The hops are aggressive, and despite the size of the beer (6.5%), seem to beat it up a bit. It's roasty but a bit thin (which I assume would be appropriate, too--IPAs shouldn't be as chewy as stouts), and some of the reviews mark it down for that. I guess I can see wherefore the faint praise. But actually, I enjoyed it. To me, the hops were woody and combined with the roast, the effect was of pine tar. Of all the different kind of flavor notes I've encountered in beer, I'd call that an acquired taste--a niche note--and perhaps not the most elegant. I nevertheless sucked Bump in the Night down pretty fast, all the time marveling that I so enjoyed fermented pine tar. Give it a B on the ratings scale for this reviewer, but it's probably closer to a B-/C+ for CDA fans.

LTD 04
Full Sail's foray into lagers has been most interesting. With the exception of LTD 03 (a pils), by far my favorite of the bunch, they are fairly similar in quality: hearty, uncomplicated lagers. LTD 01 was called an "easy-drinking lager," and that appears to be the mission statement for the whole line. Leaving aside 03, they're not brewed to any particular style except their own. With numbers for names and such a clear similarity, I'm prepared to declare it intentional.

LTD 04 is in this mode--and is even more stripped down. It takes Reinheitsgebot literally: one hop (Willamette), one malt (must be pilsner), yeast, water. The result is a very pale beer with a grassy, boozy nose. The grassiness continues on the palate. Working overtime, I can produce the adjectives lemon and pepper, but these are mainly impressions, not full flavors. The alcohol is pronounced enough that it creates a sweetness slightly out of keeping with the simple, grassy-fresh beer. As the glass takes on warmth, so does this disparate note. I enjoyed it, but wasn't distracted much by any subtle flavors. One minute I was enjoying my first sip, and a moment later I was done drinking: the beer was gone. I suspect this was the goal, and so I could consider a B- on the ratings scale, but so simple is the recipe and so uncomplicated the sensory offerings that I'll downgrade that to a C+. Back in the day, a 7% light lager would have been called Malt Liquor, but never have they tasted this good. So on the other hand, maybe I should give it an A. Ah ratings.

Humulus Sativa

Yesterday afternoon, after a fantastic hike in the Columbia River Gorge, Sally and I retired to the Full Sail Taproom. It's been years since I've dropped in (blame Double Mountain, Big Horse, and Walking Man), and I was reminded not to let such a lapse happen again. As we sat and enjoyed the beer, we had a view of the windsurfers scooting along the whitecaps out on the river. A top-five location for brewery views.

In any case, I tried Spotless, the new Brewmaster Reserve beer. Actually, I had another pint of the Dunkopple first, and I really enjoyed it. If you don't get hung up on style, and instead behold its deep, cranberry hue and revel in those delicate Citra hops, you'll have a grand old time. Consider this one vote for bumping it up to the LTD line--04 anyone?

Following that, I went on to the Spotless. Wow--what a nose. I was instantly reminded of Racer 5, a beer smelling no less pungent than a hazy dorm room. I believe we used to describe that aroma as "stanky." The flavor was much the same--sticky, gooey, and fresh, but in a very specific, Rastafarian direction. The waitress told me it was hopped with Zeus, a genetic twin of the Columbus deployed in Racer 5. Aha!

It solves one mystery. I'd wondered if Bear Republic produced the quality through the alchemy of all their hops. Nope, it comes from that strain, and it comes through loud and clear. (Hops are, of course, close cousins to cannabis sativa--marijuana--but apparently, some hops express this kinship more clearly than others.) I thoroughly enjoyed the beer, as did Sally, but it felt a little transgressive drinking it. I kept waiting to get busted. My guess--you'll like it, too.

Four for Craft Beer Month

Last week, I was invited to attend what turned out to be a blogger-scarce tour of four breweries who tomorrow unveil beers for Craft Beer Month. Jacob Grier (that's him on the left in the photo on the right, below) and Jason Wallace were the other lucky proles--the rest were the, ahem, real media. Before we get to the beers, let me mention the transportation. This little baby:











It goes by the unfortunate name of Double Decker PDX, and is the conceit of a couple of kids who just graduated from UO. A 1959 Bristol Lodekka outfitted with plush seats and fridges (sorry, no bar), you can rent it and go on a pub crawl or take it to wine country. Dunno if the business model pens out, but it's a sweet (if bumpy) ride. I'd probably call it Rosey or something a bit more distinctive, but hey.

Now to the beer.

Our tour began at the Pilsner Room, where an outrageous number of the group admitted they'd never been. If you are in their dubious company, do yourself a favor and head down. In any case, the beer was Full Sail Dunkopple, the latest in their Brewer's Share series. It is ostensibly a dunkel, crafted by Kristy Holsopple, a lovely lab supervisor originally from Cincinnati. Because lagers are still king in the Midwest, Kristy was reminded of this gentle, sessionable style. Alas, Kristy has been Oregonized, and the resulting beer is something like a cross between a pale ale and a dunkel. Which means, of course, that it's quite pleasant and should be a major crowd-pleaser. Traditionalists will naturally chafe. (5.2%, 30 IBU, hopped with Citra and Mt. Hood)

Next we traveled to Rock Bottom, where Van Havig rocked my world when he described his Nugget, Cascade, Simcoe, Amarillo, and Centennial-hopped American Dream IPA this way: "It has that canned grapefruit-juice quality. Kinda metallic and harsh. I love that." He later described it as "not that bitter." I almost want to not say anything myself, but demand that everyone go down and try it first. Almost. Instead, I'll say instead that it is indeed that bitter, and the description as a harsh, tinned bitterness is right on, too. What rocks my world is that Van likes it that way. Of course, I know many IPA fans do, too. I guess you know who you are. If I travel with any of you there, I will instead order the far more subtle kolsch I mentioned earlier.

The next stop was to the warm, still-aired Lompoc Sidebar, where were were offered a snifter of Big Bang Red. A version of Proletariat Red brewed in 2009, it was aged in four different bourbon barrels with an additional part left in the tank. Everything was re-blended together. It is a massively boozy beer that seems far stronger than the stated 8.1% (trust me, not that number--it was north of ten). It picks up lots of bright flavors--bourbon, vanilla, and oak. It's a pretty tasty beer now, but brash and green. I think another year would soften it and burnish those flavors a bit.

The final stop was Widmer where we tried more gose. This goddam city is lousy with goses.* Seriously--two years ago, you couldn't have convinced me there would have been two different versions of goses brewed here. (One I might have bought.) Widmer is the third brewery to take up the style, and the two they've brewed are the sixth and seventh (!) in the last year. Doing their homework, Widmer has brewed up a Goslar-style and Leipzig-style gose. Both are wheat beers made with a lactic zing, salt, and coriander. (The river Gose flows through the town of Goslar and gives the style its name. The Goslar breweries used salty water, responsible for the unique flavor. Major production ultimately shifted 100 miles away, to Leipzig.)

Widmer Odin, the Goslar-style, is getting the major release. I somehow missed the description of why, but it is made without lactobacillus, making it much more like a Belgian wit. (Did the Goslar breweries somehow have purer strains of yeast? How did the Widmers discover this?) They also poured us their Leipzig-style, which seems quite traditional to me, and mighty tasty. Let us hope that it gets a release, too.

So thems the beers, but only the kick-off beers. Over the course of the next month, breweries are going to release sortie after sortie of new releases. Get ready, here it is: Craft Beer Month begins...

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*That's a sentence I'll never have the chance to write again.

See, Now This Beer Tastes Bitter

In a wonderful moment of serendipity, last night's beer was Full Sail's latest Brewmaster's Reserve, Hop Pursuit. The night before, I had a Hop Henge (everyone who thinks there should be a moratorium on beers with the word "hop" in the title, raise your hand), which led me on a slightly protracted ramble about how hops may actually reduce the perception of bitterness. As the day wore on, my thesis seemed progressively more thin to me, but I was saved by the Hop Pursuit.

In the world of doubles and imperials, this is a bit of a throwback beer. (A throwback from, you know, 1998.) It is a modest 6%, sunflower pale, and in-your-face bitter. Some many moons back, Full Sail did a seasonal called Equinox ESB, a beer that actually set my expectations for a spring seasonal. It was vividly and greenly hoppy, resinous, almost too much. I loved it. Hop Pursuit has that same bracing quality, like a sneaker gust of wind that contains a bit of winter's bite. Yet it is only 55 IBUs. They all come through on the first swallow, and rake the tongue as they exit the mouth, leaving you smacking and smiling. It's not a particularly complex beer--biscuity sweetness in the body, just enough to support the piney, sharp hops. But it's a beer that makes you smile with recognition--this, you think, is a classic Northwest beer.

Once again, I am confronted with the prospect of rating this beer highly. I don't know any brewery that turns out so many consistently above average beers as Full Sail. Call this a B+.
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Brief Reviews: Full Sail Imperial Stout, MacTarnahan's Spine Tingler

I am falling behind again in my reviews, and so here are a couple of quickies.

Full Sail Imperial Stout
I recently picked up a 22 of Full Sail's imperial, lured partly by the price ($4). Anything under five bucks these days seems like a bargain. Full Sail divided this batch into two; the first half is what's in bottles now and the second half is sitting in 19 and 19-year-old Heaven Hill bourbon casks for later release. So this is really just a preview of coming attractions. As imperials go, it's on the small end, just 8%, and what jumped out at me was how thin the body was. Generally imperial stouts are like pudding--you spoon them down rather than sip them. This isn't a criticism, though--it makes for a very smooth, creamy beer. It's a roasty, plummy beer, fairly sweet in the middle, though the hops assert themselves in the aftertaste. If such a thing as a session imperial is possible, this is it. Eight percent may not be a lot for an imperial stout, but it's a lot for 22 ounces. Careful when you crack this one. Rating: B+

MacTarnahan's Spine Tingler
Will Belgian strongs ever in Oregon? Several breweries have tried versions of robust golden ales--Duvel style, tripels, or hybrids--and none have repeated the experiment, which I take to mean that they're not selling well. Spine Tingler is a fairly straightforward tripel, brewed with a touch of wheat and sugar. This is a beer that depends on the yeast. I hope someone will correct me if I'm wrong on this, but I think I heard folks at the brewery say they went with a yeast like Unibroue. Here it produces a quite dry, sparkling beer with evident sugar alcohol and a crisp finish. Not a lot of funk, but clearly Belgian. Tripels are not actually my favorite style, so while this was a fine version, it didn't light me up. I'll be interested to see what true fans of the style think. Oh, and I don't know what it costs, because I had my pour at the brewery, gratis, when I visited. Rating: B+

In the News

Top Sail Release
I meant to do this post yesterday, in advance of Full Sail's roll-out of their bourbon-barrel-aged porter, Top Sail. Aged in barrels from three different distilleries--Maker's Mark, Stranahan's and Four Roses--and then blended. If you live near Hood River, you can still attend the release there on Thursday. They will offer the final product along with a flight of beer from each of the casks so you can see what they contribute.

Top Sail Release
Thursday, February 4, 2010, 5-8pm
Full Sail Tasting Room and Pub
Hood River

Big Bottle Tasting at Saraveza
Another event in the near future is a "big bottle" tasting at Saraveza a week from today. Preston Weesner has corralled and aged a batch of rare beers in big bottles (which are named, I learned as a result of the event, things like Methuselah and Salmanazar)--like six and nine liters big. The beer list: 2006 Chimay Grand Reserve, 2007 Duvel Tripel, 2007 Samichlaus, 2008 St. Bernardus Abt 12, 2008 St. Feuillien Triple, 2007 Unibroue La Fin Du Monde and 2006 Val-Dieu Winter.

Accompanying menu: 15-month-old aged gouda cheese from Willamette Valley Cheese, house crackers and Marcona almonds; cherry smoked black pepper duck sausage with a Chimay beer and prune reduction; and a cider braised lamb and parsnip potato mash pasty with warm spiced butternut squash and pickled garnish. The event ain't cheap, but if you're bearing up under the financial strain, it's sure to be a great event. Preston is knowledgeable and entertaining.

Big Bottle Tasting
Saraveza, Feb 9, 6:30 pm
Tickets $60, call 503-206-4252 to reserve.

Draft Mag's Best Beers
I've been getting emails lately by the Oregon breweries who found themselves on Draft Magazines top 25 beers of the year. Mirror Mirror, Vlad the Imp Aler, and Kiwanda Cream Ale found themselves on a list that included Orval and Duvel. (Yes, Oregon had the most beers. We rock. Yawn.) I will refrain from my usual pooh-poohing; while this isn't the list I would assemble, it's quirky and brave enough to warrant a look.

Oh, and while we're talking Draft Mag, they also have a Q&A with Rogue about the Green Dragon. A shorty, but you might be interested. Teaser quote:

It’s always been a plan to brew there. In October, we put in a homebrew system, and we have Portland’s homebrew club, the Oregon Brew Crew, homebrewing on it. We buy whatever ingredients they want, and a portion of the proceeds goes back to their club. They make amazing stuff -- a barleywine, a golden strong ale, an IPA. And we’re putting in our own 15-barrel brewing system in January.

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The New Saisons

"The most endangered species among Belgian beers are the Saisons. "

That was Michael Jackson, writing a bit more than a decade ago. But, like the bald eagle, the rehabilitation has worked--it's time to take saisons off the endangered list. With a number approaching double digits released and available in Portland in the past year, you can't even call them rare anymore. We had three at the Oregon Brewer's Fest. Standing Stone had their version in town a few weeks past. Alex Ganum founded a brewery that was inspired by them. And then with almost no fanfare, Full Sail recently released Saison a Pleine Voile (don't say Full Sail Saison a Pleine Voile, or you'll be repeating yourself). Every time I go into Belmont Station it seems there's another US brewery with a new version. Oh, and for good measure, the venerable ur-saison maker Dupont released their newest product to the US market, Avril. The season of saisons? More like the year.

History of the Style
In a certain sense, none of these nouveau saisons can be considered authentic, because what defined them was a rustic style of production. Thus their commonly used alternative designation, "farmhouse ales." Jackson describes them as part of Europe's "industrial archaeology," dating back to a time when farms were only beginning to mechanize.

This led to idiosyncratic, site-specific characteristics, like Lefebvre, where the fired kettle is subject to winds. "If the fire was high [due to wind], the hot spots on the surface of kettle would caramelize the beer to a greater degree." In other breweries, beer was exposed to wild microorganisms, giving them a funky zing. Pipaix, one of the oldest producers, still uses a steam system (they call it brasserie à vapeur) and equipment dating to mid-century.

You get the picture--these were very small, ramshackle breweries (one has a sense many weren't really commercial concerns) that produced beer as unique and specific as the farm on which they were located.

A wonderfully romantic history, but not so useful in identifying style. With a scattered collection of unique beers, was there a style? Marc Rosier, brewer at Dupont, described saisons this way: "It must be a good, honest beer. It should have character. It is essential that it have soul." Whew--glad we cleared that up.

The lore surrounding the style always starts with the name, which is French for "season." According to legend, these beers were brewed during the cooler months and laid down to get them through summer--hence "season." I find this unpersuasive, for two reasons. First, we know that saisons were brewed at all strengths: "children's" (I kid you not), "family," "double," and "regal." Dupont's new Avril is in the small example, but is clearly related to the family--the baby, I guess you'd call her. It is a beer to be drunk when brewed; at 3.5%, it wouldn't last a month--hardly something to be laid away for the hot months.

But the other reason is the yeast. Those who have brewed with the dreaded Dupont strain know that it is very hard to work with, and that it loves the heat. (I have documented my foibles here.) The yeast loves temperatures over 80 degrees--purportedly even as hot as 90 (!). And yet they didn't brew in the summer? Makes no sense. (Alex Ganum, though he uses a different saison strain, has commented that he's got to keep it pretty warm, too.)


The New Saisons
In any case, there appear to be a few hallmarks to the style. Generally robust, they have the fruity-ester character of ales--often tending toward citrus and specifically lemon--but also a long, dry finish due to incredible attenuation. They are likely to have a bit of lactic zestiness, sometimes even a mild brett quality, but aren't funky. Most are pretty-well hopped and have a spicy quality. Even though they're on the biggish side (6-7%), they aren't heavy. Finally, effervescence is key--they should roil with a vigorous bead and sport a pillowy head.

A lot of the saisons I've tried over the years have seemed more like biere de gardes, their cousin from across the French border. That style is heavier and sweeter, lacking the hop character and that lovely dry finish. One shouldn't be a fanatic about style, but those qualities that make a saison so lovely are so rare as to be cherished and savored. I can't really criticize a sweeter saison, but I do like finding ones closer to the original.

Fortunately, the ones I've tasted lately are far closer to my sense of the style, and far more tasty and interesting. I hope to come back again and again to newer version of the style, but here are four recent examples, just to demonstrate the range.

• Saison a Pleine Voile. I believe this beer is part of Full Sail's Brewer's Share program, where assistant brewers get to man the kettle and brew whatever their hearts desire. John Harris mentioned it a couple of months ago, but I don't remember the details. Unfortunately, I didn't take notes when I had this last week at the Pilsner Room, so what follows is impressionistic. It followed the style in the key ways--cloudy golden, a thick, creamy head (though not a huge amount of effervescence), and a rich, spicy-yeasty aroma. Based on the bead, it didn't surprise me to find that it was thicker and creamier than I expected, but it was still quite dry. It was nicely hopped, spicy, yet very approachable. I must go back for a second taste--it was wonderful.

• Boulevard Tank 7. I could find very little information about this beer, which I tried at Belmont Station. Boulevard does a regular saison, and I'm not sure how this one deviated from it. This beer, too hit most of the marks for a "typical" saison. Yeasty nose marked by a fair bit of lemon. An austere, bone dry, alcoholic example. It has insistent hopping, and this combines with that dryness, which seemed the result of brettanomyces--think aged Orval--to produce a rather sharp-elbowed beer. One admires it more than enjoys it. But admire it I did.

• Upright Seven. Although all the Upright beers are sort of farmhousey, this one is what I'd describe as the most like a typical saison. (And I use that word, again, with all due caution.) Upright's yeast is softer than Dupont's, and although the beers finish out very dryly, the fruity esters still dominate. An orangey, lively beer with a dense, creamy head, it also sports pronounced hopping. (Magnums to bitter--as is the case with all the beers but Four--as well as Mount Rainier, Liberty, and Hallertauer.) Yet it does finish crisply. I haven't had it since visiting the brewery, and need to try it again, too.

• Standing Stone Saison. To repeat a review from late May: The head was creamy and sustained and lacing decorated my glass as I drew, with regret, to the end. The aroma hints at the flavor--phenols and spice, and an interesting yeast character. It's a dense beer and not particularly effervescent, yet though it's heavy, it doesn't cloy. The first sweet note gives way to phenols, an almost minty note, and pepper. Given the heavy body, you think it can't finish dryly--with my first sip I feared the Ardennes effect--but it does. There are hops enough to clip any sweetness in the aftertaste, and you're left with a crisp finish.

One other to throw in the mix, though it's not currently available in Oregon, is Goose Island Sofie. Lisa Morrison shared a bottle with me at the Brewers Games. It was vigorously effervescent, light-bodied, and gentle. I recall plenty of hopping and tropical fruit flavors. The specifics have left my mind, but the fondness remains--it was a good one, too, should you find a bottle.

The upshot? The 2009 crop of saisons has been amazing. And I hope we don't stop seeing them anytime soon.

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Great Beers of Belgium, 3rd Ed. He may actually have written the words when the first edition of the book came out in '91, but I don't have a copy. Anyway, you get the picture.

Hard Reviews: Full Sail LTD 03 and Ninkasi Radiant

[Note. For about ten minutes, my post appeared in a wholly scrambled format--a technical glitch with some precedent. I wrote it last night, and somehow its digital tenure overnight in The Dalles scrambled things. It's now fixed.]

For quite different reasons, I've been avoiding reviewing these two beers. Let's start with the Full Sail, which I liked a great deal. It's a pretty straightforward German pils--a softer, less aggressive style than its Bohemian forebear. At least the problem there is my own failings.

LTD 03
The difficulty here is in describing the beer in a novel way. It is a pretty classic version of the style, differing in only a couple, also quite traditional ways, from the standard. LTD 03 is hopped with Sterling, a cultivar mainly of Saaz, and bearing most of the very classic Saaz character--but with just enough floral German parentage (one-eighth) for you to smile in appreciation. It's a wee bit strong for style at 5.6%, but you have to account for local tastes. It is a leggy blond with a gentle perfume and is exactly what you hope it will be. Beyond that, I got nuthin to tell you. Good stuff.

Radiant
Moving on to the harder one, telegraphed by a few comments on yesterday's post. I have had this beer twice, once at the Brewers Games, and once from a bottle a few nights ago. I had no real opportunity to study it in Pacific City--just gulp it down appreciatively. From the bottle, well ... Eugene, we have a problem.

(But first, a necessary parenthetical. In yesterday's post I also mentioned that Ninkasi's line-up is one of the only intact family of beers I know. Jamie Floyd likes to brew big, booming ales that are almost winking stereotypes of an Oregon beer--fruity and saturated with hops. You could say they're all the same, but for Ninkasi fans, favorites are spread out pretty evenly among the different beers. They're variations on a theme, but they are variations and everyone loves that theme. I've heard critics deride them as a one-trick pony, but I don't share this view in the least. You could as easily dismiss Frank Boon if that were your sole criterion.)

That out of the way, to Radiant. The problem here is not the recipe. It's aptly named; the beer seems to exude an inner warmth. The balance between a rather sweet, caramely body and the usual thick hopping produces the sense of liquid sunshine. The problem: there was a lot of diacetyl in the glass I had from the bottle. If there was diacetyl in the one at Pelican, it was so mild that I didn't notice it in the hurlyburly of the day--and in any case, at levels that low, it would be a permissible or even welcome note. And although some commenters claim (anonymously, which demonstrates a lack of courage, if not candor) other Ninkasi beers have had diacetyl in them, I've never tasted it.

Let's hope the bottle was an anomaly. I'll keep sampling it and report back in a few weeks.

Full Sail: Ten Years of Employee Ownership

Somehow I missed this important milestone: ten years and two days ago, Full Sail became employee-owned. I will attempt to dig up my old column reporting on the event--it was one of the more fascinating moments in Oregon brewing history. The employees managed to hold off a hostile takeover bid by Indian beer titan Vijay Mallya in dramatic stand-off.

But while I sift through the old floppies in my closet, let me direct you to Patrick Emerson's wonderful post on the economics of employee ownership. He has been mighty impressed with the way Full Sail has positioned themselves and grown (as I have, incidentally), and wondered whether it was because or in spite of their ownership structure. I want you to go to his site to read the entire post--it can't easily be broken in parts--but I'll offer a teaser paragraph here:

Economists in general have always been fairly skeptical of employee owned companies. The dominant theme in the literature is generally that the incentives of employee owners are to reward themselves at the expense of the firm and to be more interested in the short term success of the company than its long term growth, as well as to have too diffuse a decision making structure and to have too little independent supervision of employees. For example, can employee owned companies make the hard decision to cut positions in economic downturns?

... So is Full Sail the exception the the rule or a classic example of the sensibility of employee ownership?

His answer may surprise you.

The Session Phenomenon

It was just one week ago, as the Beer Goddess and I were sharing an LTD 03 at the Brewers Games, that I first heard about Session Black. In the span of that time, everyone's heard about it: Full Sail had separate launch parties in Hood River and Portland, and there's yet another release cum meet-the-brewers at Saraveza next Thursday. And today John Foyston has an in-depth article in the Oregonian's Business section. It's a hell of a lot of heat and noise for what we must admit is surely a modest product.

And so here's the question--is it too much noise?

A Brilliant Idea
Releasing Session was a big gamble for Full Sail. So far as I know, no other craft brewery had or has attempted anything like it. The idea was born in 2004, during that period following the 90s shake-out when it appeared that the hearts of the next generation might be lost to PBR. On one side were craft beers and on the other industrial lagers, and the twain never met. What divides them seem as much to do with brand identity and customer loyalty as flavor--if you like a nice IPA and don't mind being seen by your brother-in-law throwing one back at the barbecue, Bud Lite is almost certainly dead to you. But if that fancy bottle and that thick goop inside seem like an unnecessary yuppie affectation--and a damned expensive one at that--you probably aren't about to give up your cooler full of cans.

Full Sail's brilliant stroke was to have a closer look at that macro market and see that it wasn't monolithic. There was the PBR phenomenon. The brand had managed to appeal to younger drinkers not because of its product (obviously!), but because of its downscale authenticity. (Support of indie music helped.) This was the amazing thing. Watch a tattooed 20-something walk up to a beer cooler, and there was a 90% chance he walked away with a half-rack of Pabst.

What Full Sail took away from their study was this: younger drinkers were drawn to Pabst out of a kind of nostalgia for local, regional breweries that had mostly been killed off before they were born. They didn't want micros, which lacked the working-class authenticity of tin-can beer, but neither did they want faceless corporate brands like Bud and Coors. Full Sail created Session to hit all the same notes. Even more, they knew it couldn't be called Full Sail. Foyston quotes Founder Irene Firmat:

"That's the way we planned it because we were trying to break out of the boundaries of being a craft beer. If we'd put out Session Lager in traditional packaging and with the Full Sail logo, we would've had a much harder time drawing in new customers who might find craft beers too big and challenging."

Session is available only in bottles and only in 12-packs -- no kegs, quarts, or six-packs. "We're sticking to that," says Full Sail brewmaster John Harris. "If we put out Session in longnecks or had it available on tap, we'd be just another me-too beer. This way, it stands out."

So now Full Sail has the best of both worlds--a beer to compete with PBR, and the impeccable reputation of one of the most storied founding American craft breweries. Here's where I get a little worried, though--is it possible to keep the wall up between the two?

One Brewery, Two Identities
American craft brewing is relatively young. It has evolved in just 25 years from tiny breweries making niche beers to substantial breweries making beers with large audiences. Imagine a line graph in your mind, with barrels on the left side--as that line keeps going up and up, eventually the sheer barrelage will dictate that breweries make more and more mass-market beers. We don't know what that means. Will more and more people buy IPAs, or will breweries begin offering beer that attracts Bud drinkers? Beer geeks tend to think of a future where craft breweries change the beer market, but what if the beer market changes craft breweries? Full Sail is a test case.

The good news is that Session is a good beer, and it looks like Session Black will be, too:

A Budvar schwarzbier (black beer) sipped on a recent trip to Vienna was the inspiration for Session Black, says Jamie Emmerson, Full Sail's executive brewmaster.... The result is a beer that looks black indeed, but is far removed from the thick, malty, roasty beer that lager drinkers fear. "We worked hard to make it a super-drinkable, balanced beer," Firmat says

The worrisome news? Session now accounts for a third of Full Sail's 90,000 barrel production. If we squint and look forward ten years, what proportion will it be? Twenty? Will the "Full Sail line" be a marginal, neglected sideline for a big, regional brewery? Could happen.

Maybe that's not so bad. So long as I can still get a sixer of Full Sail Pale, what do I care how much Session Full Sail sells? In fact, using my future-seeing squint, I can even imagine a day in which Session makes the Pale possible. Things change, and that's not always terrible. Still, worth watching this whole phenomenon to see how it plays out.

[Update. Okay, I'm sitting in the Pilsner Room with a bottle of Black (it's not on the menu). A very nice beer. This is going to please beer geeks even more than regular Session. A fine Schwarzbier, with a sweet, roasty palate. A year-round beer, it will do very nicely for those January Blazers games.]

[Later Update. There has been some confusion about Full Sail's annual sales. I just got an email from Jamie Emmerson. The 90,000 barrels are all Full Sail brands. They do an additional 50,000 of Henry's. All FS brands are up according to Jamie. Also, the Czech style that inspired Session is called--sorry, no proper diacritics--"Tmave." "Not as malty as Munich Dunkles, but not as roasty as Schwarzbier."]



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PHOTO: Abby Metty, The Oregonian (source)

Is This a Pilsner?

Full Sail has just sent out a press release on their new LTD 03 beer, labeled as a pilsner. But is it?

The newly designed bottle labels describe LTD Bottling 03, as crisp, new pilsner-style lager that is pale golden in color, features a spicy floral hop aroma, a malty medium body, and a smooth thirst-quenching finish. LTD 03 registers "Pale" on the "Malt-O-Meter" that is featured on the six packs. Beer aficionados, or the aspiring ones, will enjoy the bottom of the six-pack that features an easy-to-read chart of "Today's Recipe," including Sterling hops, 2 row pale malt, plato (14 degrees), I.B.U. (35), alcohol by volume (5.6) and any special ingredients. LTD 03 will be available in six-packs and draught and will be available June through September.

As you know, I'm no style nazi. But to the lovely style of pilsner so much violence has been directed. When I heard that Full Sail was releasing a pils, my mouth started watering at the taste of those lovely Czech Saaz. I had also comforted myself with the idea of a German pils, perfumed with the noble aroma of a nice Hallertau.

But what's this, Sterling hops? Well, maybe it's not so bad. Sterlings are an American hybrid bred from Saaz about a decade ago. They are purported to contain the quality of Saaz. FS's version is (no surprise) a touch more robust than average, and I wouldn't mind seeing a few more IBUs, but hey, let's try it before we knock it, right? The LTD series was never designed to create standard styles of lagers--they're riffs on more well-known styles. So a Sterling-hopped pilsner-y style beer. Sounds about right.


Update. Full Sail twittered the following, indicating they're going for not only a pilsner, but a very good one. I like a brewery with moxie.

FullSailBrewing LTD 03 is officially here. Best pilsner ever? We think so.

Fun With Beer - Berliner Weisse

I spent the waning, sunnny hours of the evening last night at the Pilsner Room enjoying a Berliner Weisse. Chris's Summer D-Lite is assistant brewer Chris Haveman's wonderful entry in the "Brewer's Share" program at Full Sail. I've enjoyed Berliner Weisses in the past, but never as they're served at the Pilsner Room--and in Berlin--with accompanying woodruff and raspberry syrup.

The style, noted for its dry, tart lactic character, is at least 400 years old and may date back to the Huguenot migration into Germany. The Huguenots were Flemish-French protestants, so could the style have passed through, say, the Zenne Valley? A hypothesis I consider with relish. In any case, the style is, for sourheads, a joy. Beers are sour in different ways; a good Berliner Weisse should be sharply tart, like a fresh lemon. They aren't punishingly or funkily sour, just tart, and therefore perfectly thirst-quenching, like a fresh lemon soda.

I have always been intrigued by this passage from Jackson, and have regretted that I'd have to go to Berlin to enjoy the experience:

"I have only ever seen the summer versions, with a dash of the herbal essence of woodruff (Waldmeister) or raspberry syrup. This is now the familiar face of Berliner Weisse.

"The syrup colors the head as well as the beer, the woodruff making for a vivid lime-cordial hue and the raspberry looking more like peach. Everyone knows the flavor of raspberry, but what about the essence of woodruff? Sampled on its own, it is heavily fragrant, with notes of hay, lemon grass, and cough drops. The herb grows in the forests around Berlin, and is also used to make a soft drink and to flavor mineral water. When Berliner Weisse is served in this way, the idea is that the drinker first tastes the sweetness of the syrup, then sense the acidity of the beer.

"Whenever I asked for a Weissbier in Berlin, the server has demanded: "Red or green?" If I have requested it without either, to sample the beer in its native state, I have sometimes been viewed as a madman. The syrups are considered necessary to moderate the intensity of the acid..."

You get something like this experience at Full Sail. Instead of--or in addition to--the query "red or green," you may hear "raspberry or marshmallow?" (Marshmallow? See below.) I wanted to taste all three variants, so I ordered the syrup on the side. My experience with the style isn't vast--there just aren't very many examples available in the US--but this version seemed like a perfect example. Berliner Weisses are not designed to be complex; they depend on the clarity of the tart note. It has to be very fresh and clean and have that citrus-like thirst-quenching quality. These beers are made with some wheat, a flavor evident particularly in the finish, but not a dominant one. All of these things describe Chris's Summer D-Lite. It's spot-on. Germans might find a beer like this too intense, but those of you who like sour beers of Belgium will find it quite approachable.

The syrups surprised me. Added to the beer, they recall some long lost fountain drink, like a phosphate. (For those who don't like to stray too far from sight of a hop, these are a distant wander to foreign land--a word to the wise.) The raspberry wasn't too weird--hold your mouth right and you could imagine a fruit lambic. But the "green" was something else. I didn't get "marshmallow" from it. There's a strong vanilla note, and something herbal behind that. Hay isn't far off, but with a tiny touch of anise. The syrups are heavier than beer, and you need to stir as you go along, or you'll end up with two fingers of weird Fanta. I recommend getting them on the side so you can add to taste. Just a touch and they add some flavor without much sweetness. Go hog wild and dump the whole thing in if you want a wild ride.

It was one of the more entertaining times I've had drinking beer in the past decade or so. Don't miss it--you'll regret it if you do. (Or end up having to go all the way to Germany. Not bad, but inconvenient.)

Last Night's Fun

As I mentioned in the Full Sail post below, I wanted to make a few comments about the Irish whiskey tasting at McCormick and Schmick's last night.

Whiskey
Stuart Ramsay led us through a progression of three malts. The first, Kilbeggan, is a relatively inexpensive blended whiskey ($18). It expressed what I think of as a typically "Irish" quality--wet and smooth. The distillery has the distinction of being the oldest in the world (1757). Smokiness enhances the beer, and although it seems robust enough in the mouth, it goes down like sweet springwater--gentle and cool. You could do a lot worse than bringing a bottle of this to a party. The Islay-Talisker crowd might like a bit more oomph, but they'd still enjoy this. Others, scared of whiskey, might drawn in via this malt.

Next we tried Tyrconnell, named for a racehorse that came in at 100-1, and a malt sold in the US prior to Prohibition. Whereas the Kilbeggan was solidly Irish, Tyrconnell begins a journey north across the Irish Sea toward Speyside. Still a gentle malt, but one with a more Scotch-like character. It's still sweet, though, and I don't know that you would mistake it for a Scotch.

Finally, we come to Connemara Peated Single Malt, and our journey to Scotland--at least via the flavor routes--is complete. In fact, Connemara takes us past the tamer malts all the way to Islay. It's full of peat and smoke and that characteristic band-aid. In my notes I wrote a single word: Islay. That this malt is so close to a Scotch shouldn't be a surprise, apparently. Ramsay gave us a history of whiskey, describing how it traveled from Ireland to Scotland in the 11th Century. So perhaps we shouldn't jump to any conclusions about which malt is influencing which.

Beer
In addition to the cask Amber, brewer John Harris served two beers, one brand new, and one very old (older than the whiskies, as it happened). He led off with Keelhauler, the brewery's first Scottish ale. John's goal was to create a drier version of a Scottish, and not a huge bruiser. What he came up with is a teak-colored beer with a slightly smoky, malty aroma. It had more hops than most Scottish ales (later, John pointed out to me that the style guideline is pretty broad)--though it was by no means bitter. I found it lush, rich, a bit toasty and nutty. Very nice. It went well with the course.

The other beer to mention--and I almost hate to, since only three kegs existed before last night (one remains)--was an 11-year-old Imperial stout John brewed back during the Clinton administration. He introduced it by describing what the intention was:

"We really wanted to get it up there--1.090 or more. We ended up doing three mashes. So like seven hours later, we were ready to put it in the kettle. But we kept having to shoot water in to keep from boiling it over. Who knows how strong it would have been if we hadn't added water. It's 9% now."

It was an extraordinary beer. The aroma was fairly neutral--a bit of papery oxidation and plums. (Sometimes I write "dark fruit" to suggest a generic fruity quality. Not here; it was straight plum.) The flavor had that wonderful stewed quality aged beers get. The plum note was less specific in the flavor--I also got raisins and other unnameable esters. It was meaty and smoky yet not burly. Rather it was creamy and smooth as silk. A beer like that is in a sense priceless--I mean, three kegs and it's gone forever, what's that worth?--so I felt quite privileged to get it for the low, low price of $25. That they threw in the whiskey and food to boot was just damned nice of them.