The Boys Are Alright

The good gentlemen of Migration Brewing recently invited the media over for a meet and greet--and tasting, of course. I attended, but with a touch of the nerves, for back in June, I called the brewery out for bad beer. No need to repeat the comments here, but suffice it to say that I figured I wouldn't be the most loved guest. But hey, that's how it goes. I certainly owed Migration another shot to prove me wrong--and, given that the pub is walking distance from my house, I was hoping they would.

Co-owners Mike Branes, McKean Banzer-Lausberg, and Colin Rath started out by giving an oral history of Migration, useful context for understanding the full story. The three are young guys with not a lot of experience in brewing, though Mike Branes, the brewer (pictured at right), worked at a Minnesota brewpub before heading to Oregon. The owners didn't have a lot of money, so they scrambled to get the place opened at the earliest possible moment--meaning they didn't have their brewing equipment installed yet. Lompoc and Three Creeks let them brew with their excess capacity, but that wasn't the same as learning on their own system.

When they did get their system--built by a fabricator that had never made brewing equipment--they had to just brew and go. This resulted in catastrophes like Little Bitter, the source of my earlier post, which they inexplicably didn't just dump.

All of which brings us to the tasting last week. Let's start with the punchline first: big improvement. I would still call these beers average, but they show marked improvement. The early batches of the flagship Migration Pale Ale were harsh and unpleasant. It's still a bit tannic, but a pleasant summer pale. Brief comments on the beers:

• Migration Pale Ale (5.5%). The flagship is designed to be a balanced, English-inflected pale and uses Cascade and Fuggles. The recipe has evolved and is now more balanced and sessionable.
• Honeydew Pale (6.2%). The name comes from the use of honey malt and is meant to be evocative. Unfortunately, it's pretty sharp and expresses very little sweet honey character. I'd like to see more fruit character from hops like Amarillos and a more assertive sweetness from the malt.
• Cream Ale (4.6%). My fave of the bunch, even though it had a very mild touch of diacetyl. Mike uses oats instead of the more traditional corn, but the result is the same--a light, frothy, summer session.

There is a lot to love about Migration. The location and feng shui of the pub is fantastic and the food is good. The guest taps have always given patrons excellent beer to enjoy. The big thing is Migration's own beer--which was, after all, the point of the exercise. McKean, Mike, and Colin are hard-working guys who really want to give the public what they want. I think ultimately it will take more varied, characterful, accomplished beers than the ones currently pouring before Migration conquers the world, but they are light years ahead of the early MPA and Little Bitter I tried. The trajectory looks very promising.

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Hops But Were Afraid to Ask

Last Friday, the summer heat finally rolled up from California and licked the Beaver State like the tongue of Satan. That was, by serendipity, also the day the Oregon Hops Commission led a small tour of the hop fields around Brooks. The group included largely brewers, all of whom brought along samples, so as we rolled out into the fields, our resistance to the sun's debilitating rays were extra low. Nevertheless, we forged on. In the course of the afternoon, we visited five growers and in the process, I picked up a ton of handy info. No doubt some of it will be familiar to some of you, but perhaps not all. Therefore I will sprinkle the nuggets of wisdom (if not nuggets of Nuggets) in posts throughout the week. Today, a primer on commercial production of the plant closest to every craft beer lover's heart.

The Humulus Lupulus is a remarkably energetic herbaceous perennial that can grow a foot a day and, in the wild, cover entire trees--but only in certain conditions. Hops require at least 15 hours of daylight and therefore can only be grown between 35 and 55 degrees latitude. They do better in drier climates, but require a lot of water; they are also subject to a number of diseases and infestations. As a consequence, commercial production is isolated to just a few regions, with over 85% of the world’s output grown in Germany, the US, China, and the Czech Republic. In the United States, all commercial hops are grown in the Northwest.

It's not a crop planted lightly. To get started, growers must erect rows of 20-foot-tall wires for the plants to climb. They must also have specialized harvest equipment to pull the vines down in the fall. Add the cost of land in agriculturally productive regions like Yakima and the Willamette Valley and the expense of bank loans and drip irrigation (which hop growers seem to uniformly employ), and you've got a slate of very high fixed costs. And to make matters even worse, plants don't reach commercial viability for three years. As a consequence, a new grower would have to have hundreds of thousands--or possibly millions--of dollars just to get started. No wonder, then, that there are only 84 growers in the entire country--35 in Oregon, five in Idaho, and the rest in Washington. Oregon produces just 15% of the total crop; Washington is the big dog, accounting for 77%.

The hop cone itself is produced only by female plants and is called a "strobile;" the vines are actually "bines" (bines climb by encircling a vertical object, while vines send out little tendrils, like hands, to latch on). Each variety of hop is different, and for the grower, each one presents its own challenge. Some are more susceptible to mildew (powdery or downy) or bugs (spider mites and aphids), some don't grow as well, and some don't produce as well. Hop yield varies by variety; a grower may only get a thousand pounds per acre of Fuggles, but twice that in Cascade. When you ask a grower what her favorite hop strain is, she'll give you a very different answer than a brewer--they like to see lush, healthy plants and care little about notes of lemon or lavender.

Of course, hop growers can't just plant the most hardy and productive plants--they have to grow the varieties brewers want. And this was, to me, the most fascinating element of the business. When we visited John Arren's farm, he told us about his newly-productive fields of Sorachi Ace (which piqued Matt Van Wyk's interest) and Mt. Rainier, as well as experimental types like Furano Ace and Shenshawabi (spelling?). Starting sometimes with a single rhizome, Arren will begin production on a new strain. He adds a few rows to see how the hop behaves and if it looks good, he'll plant a small field. At that point, if the hop has flourished, Arren has to find a brewer who will use it. When he was going through the process with Sorachi Ace, he managed to find one who was keenly interested, so he knew that he had a buyer--but that's not always the case. "It's a huge crap-shoot," he said when I asked him about this. "It can take ten years to get up to full production." If that hop isn't popular, or if it somehow becomes more trouble than it's worth to grow, they pull the entire field out and start over. Annen, in fact, was just about to pull his German Hallertauers out for lack of market.

Fortunately, the relationship between craft brewers and hop growers has been beneficial to both. Growers like Annen can coordinate with brewers ahead of time to try to find a market for experimental hops. In earlier decades, growers did all their business with the big beer companies, which regularized and streamlined things, but gave growers less flexibility. The growers we spoke to have slowly been giving more of their crops over to craft breweries. Doug Weathers now sells 75% of his crop to craft brewers; Annen works almost exclusively with craft brewers.

And of course, Oregon breweries have a big advantage here. They can visit the fields, develop relationships with the growers, and can hand-select their hops on-site. Van Havig, who was on the tour, told me that this close relationship is relatively new and comes almost entirely from the fresh hop phenomenon. Brewers had to visit the fields to get their hops and so began to work directly with growers. Now they work with growers year-round.

I have talked a lot about how "beer is local." Generally I mean to say that the types of beer we like and the way we like to drink it are local expressions of beer culture. Historically, though, this axiom applied more to the ingredients--brewers could only make beer from what was available to them. In Oregon, it means both. Oregon breweries have a unique advantage over brewers nationwide in their access to hop fields. I've always wondered about a causal link between Northwest beer, strident hopping, and locally-grown hops came in, and it's still a mystery. There doesn't seem to be any particular reason locals should like hoppy beers more than anyone else--but of course they do. And now that they do, the die is cast: hops are going to remain the definitive element of Northwest beer for decades to come. Good thing brewers have a good supply.

Beer Causes Psoriasis in Women?

Hmm, this isn't going to help my campaign to turn America's women into beer drinkers:

Women who had an average 2.3 drinks or more per week had a 72% greater risk of having psoriasis than women who didn't drink. But when various types of alcohol were assessed, there was a higher risk for the disease among women who drank regular beer. Drinking light beer, red or white wine, or liquor were not linked with a risk of psoriasis. Women who drank at least five regular beers a week were 1.8 times more apt to contract psoriasis than women who did not drink

Psoriasis causes "cells to build up rapidly on the surface of the skin, forming thick silvery scales and itchy, dry, red patches that are sometimes painful."

I guess it should be pointed out that only 2.2% of the population has psoriasis, so even the consumption of beer isn't going to cause many women to develop it--proportionately, anyway. Still, not the greatest news ever.

IPAs and More IPAs: Ninkasi Maiden the Shade

I'm a little late to the party, but I wanted to comment on Ninkasi's new (or rather two-month-old) 22-ounce release, Maiden the Shade. Let's start with the label, a curiously discordant pastiche of themes. The artwork comes from Jerry Garcia's daughter, Annabellle, a perfect tribute for a beer first brewed for the venerable Oregon Country Fair. The image shows a young woman under the shade of a summer tree, receiving a painted Ninkasi logo from a tree sprite. I take this to be Ninkasi herself, but perhaps this is projectiong. (In the first rendering, a fair amount of the Goddesses buttocks are visible and she is topless. Apparently the government found this too risque--she now sports a bikini top and arse-covering sarong.) It is consonant with the Fair's crunchy vibe and the Dead's canon of cartoon art. All in all, spot on.

But then there's the name and title font: a separate tribute to a different Maiden, the Iron one, a band very much un-crunchy nor Dead-like. I am getting the sense that the good folks at Ninkasi like their music hammering to the hammer of double bass drums--recall that the winter seasonal is Sleigh'r, with similar fonty homage to the homophonic band Slayer.

Eugene is, of course, a sacred site along the spiritual ley line of famous Dead/hippie haunts, so the crunchy part makes sense. But perhaps the thrash metal allusions point to the music Ninkasians actually prefer. (It would be interesting to see Jamie Floyd's iPod. Rarely do you find "Number of the Beast" and "Aiko Aiko" on the same machine, but stranger things have happened. Or maybe it's a Nikos Ridge/Jamie Floyd dichotomy. But I digress.)


Tasting Notes
There appears to be emerging a trend toward what you might call a "summer IPA"*--a pilsner-hued, light-bodied beer brewed at substantial strength and bitterness, but in a kind of stripped-down, pure-essence presentation. I would count Double Mountain's Vaporizer as a member of this small club. Both beers vent hop aroma like glue vents brain-destroying vapors. Both are surprisingly light-colored (though unlike pilsners, they have the shimmering haze of hop particles). Maiden the Shade was purported to have been brewed with ganja in mind--another homage to the OCF--and does have a sticky, resinous musk. It is not, to my nose, as stanky as Racer 5. Instead, I found it more layered that that--notes of lavender, pine, and sage make it an earthy, spicy bouquet. Ninkasi employs seven hops to get the effect: Summit, Centennial, Simcoe, Columbus, Crystal, Palisade and Amarillo. Sometimes the result of potpourri-hopping is a muddle, but here you get quite a bit of articulated flavors.

I give special credit to the beer for its surprising sweetness. Some of this comes from the malt bill, but I think more come from the hop esters--or more likely, the interaction between the two. Some sharply-hopped beers either exhaust or dull one's palate; because of its lightness and sweetness, Maiden the Shade remains fresh and sessionable despite the 72 IBUs and 6.8% alcohol.

When you see the Ninkasi label, you have certain expectations. Despite the fact that Maiden in Shade penned out to exactly meet them, I was surprised by the beer. It was both more delicate and yet oddly more bold than I expected. A great beer.

The review panel at the New School took a look at this beer last week, so you can compare and contrast my findings with those.

_______________
*I am not wedded to the term, but if it takes off, or if there's a movement to enshrine this style into the canon of the BJCP, I claim full rights to Summer IPA ™.

Scott Simon Loves the Beer

The first story that caught my attention this morning on the radio involved "gyspy brewers."

On the road we discussed how new things are afoot, literally, in beer land. "Gypsy brewing," although by no means a trend, has been added to the lexicon. In oversimplified terms, it's brewing on the go, a supersubculture of the craft beer industry. Strumke is one of about three people in the world who do it, Denmark's Mikkeller brewers being another example.

Like an old-world itinerant preacher, Strumke travels from brewery to brewery — from Belgium to Baltimore — spreading the craft beer gospel. He finds breweries that jibe with his thinking; rents out their excess capacity; and uses his own recipes to create limited edition batches and a brand.

Far out. You should listen to the report--or read it. As a bonus, the story sort of merges into a piece about pairing food and beer. A fascinating report, and proof that NPR is way ahead of the rest of the MSM.

The second story wasn't really about beer, but it sat me up more easily than my morning coffee. A ten-minute story (very long by NPR standards) on Oakridge, Oregon. It was one of those biographic sketches that details the life and times of a small town, showing how it has evolved. For Oregonians, a familiar tale of the decline of logging and devastating aftermath--and possibly hopeful denouement.

For Oregon beer fans, it was a moment to hope that our favorite cask brewery would get a shout-out. And it did! Not a big one--Ted Sobel doesn't even get interviewed, though you can hear him in the background--but it gets a positive mention as part of the hopeful denouement. You actually have to listen to the story--the text is shortened and they clipped Ted's bit. They also got the name wrong ("Brewer's Union Local 18"--so close!), but still. I have no doubt that it was the growing light of Ted's fame that drew NPR, lighthouse style, into Oakridge's orbit. Kudos!

Friday the 13th News Bits

I don't bury the lede:

The tasting room will be open for the first time at 2:00pm tomorrow, Friday the 13th. Stop by and help us break in the bar.

I am so on it. I admire Alan's choice of Friday the 13th as the grand opening. Bold. (Oh: 61 Southeast Yamhill, PDX, 503-232-6585)

Next up, we have a whinge. In journalism, the word "lede" refers to the the leading sentence (the spelling of lede was to distinguish it, in those old days of dead trees, from the use of actual lead in printing) of a news story. The nut or crux of the thing. Well, writing in today's Oregonian, Michael Zusman reviews Spints Alehouse. This is the key paragraph, and it is the eleventh of twelve that appear in the review.

Though [owner Alyssa] Gregg is obviously serious about food, Spints remains above all a place to drink. For those passionate about their libations, Spints could limit its edible options to pickled eggs from a jar and the world would still be good. Last I counted, there were more than a dozen draft beers -- from local IPAs to brawny Belgians, nearly two dozen choices by the bottle dominated by German and German-style brews -- and an impressive list of spirits to boot. Patrons arriving primarily to eat should be prepared for a barroom layout -- albeit one with windows -- or a secondary dining room like the kids table at a family gathering: off to the side and not nearly as interesting as the main space.

That right there is whatcha call "burying the lede."

Last, I would like to draw your attention to a project Billy Broas--one of my newly linked bloggers and the man behind BillyBrew--just launched:

In the spirit of that quote, I am very excited to announce The Beer Bucket List – 50 Beers to Try Before you Die.

While myself and the BillyBrew readers drink quality beer on a regular basis, there are those selections that soar above the rest. These are the beers that no man or woman should miss out on in their short time on this planet. These are the beers that should be on everybody’s beer bucket list. I’ve assembled a team of distinguished beer bloggers to help me bring you the top 50 beers in the world.

I am one of those bloggers, and I have already selected my five beers. Two, of course, come from Beervana. I figure at least 40% of the best beer in the world comes from here, so that seemed appropriate. Which two? You have to sign up so you can receive the emails and see.

Now, I'm off on a tour of the Oregon hop fields sponsored by the Oregon Hop Commission.

Breweries That Give Back

For about 14 years, I worked on various grants at Portland State University doing research on the state's child welfare agency. For those who are unfamiliar with child social services, the way it works is that the state oversees the legal protection of children, but private non-profits provide services to make children and families whole. One of those agencies is Morrison, which serves the mental health needs of kids. Their services can change children's lives, and the state depends on them when they encounter cases of serious neglect and abuse.

I mention all of this because last night's Deschutes Street Fare was a fundraiser for Morrison. Not all fundraisers are created equally, so I took the opportunity to chat up Lauren Tietsort, a representative from Morrison, who was at the event. She gushed about how smooth it had been, and praised Deschutes for donating so much time and money. I wasn't surprised, but I was very pleased. According to the Oregon Brewers Guild, breweries gave $1.25 million last year to charitable organizations. I've talked before about other how other breweries have pitched in, and so this is no longer surprises me. But it's something to be proud about.

The Street Fare, incidentally, was a blast. Deschutes blocked off Davis in the block next to the brewery and invited ten Portland food carts to set up shop. Then the brewery paired each dish with one of their beers. For a token, you got the paired beer and food--and a survey of Portland's food carts. (If I had any quibble, it's that some of the pairings could have offered a bit more pop--but this is no time to quibble.) My fave was Flavour Spot's insanely decadent pecan "Dutch Taco"--a waffle wrapped, taco-shell style, around tasty filling. They serve many varieties (menu, pdf), but this version contains organic maple spread with whipped butter and roasted pecans. Whoo, boy.

In sum: good food, good beer, good music, good time, good cause. What could be better?

Asia Overtakes Europe

This is interesting:

Asian beer manufacturers produced 103 billion pints of beer in 2009, marking an increase of 5.5 per cent compared to the previous year. At the same time, European beer companies experienced a production drop of 5.1 per cent to 97 billion pints during the same period, according to a study by the research department of Kirin Holdings Co, the Japanese beer giant.

Defying cultural stereotypes of beer-swilling Europeans, it is the first time that Asia has assumed the top spot in the world's beer producing since annual records began in 1974 by the Kirin Institute of Food and Lifestyle.

This appears to be mainly a function of demographics, though. Asia is growing far faster than Europe, so overall consumption is increasing because the number of mouths is increasing. Even in metropolitan cities like Tokyo, Singapore, and Seoul, there doesn't seem to be much in the way of a trend toward connoisseurship. I was reminded of a post I saw a few months back by Fal Allen. He started a brewery in Singapore called Archipelago five years back or so. The beers he designed incorporated local ingredients, simultaneously pushing the beer envelope and also an attempt to create something indigenous. But in April he reported that the entire line was being replaced with traditional beers:

For the most part the Asian spiced beers are a thing of the past (we still have the Samui as our wheat beer - made with Kalamasi lime and Pandan leaves). But, it was felt that the spice beers were a bit too niche for the market (actually a niche within the niche of craft beers), and maybe that's right. Maybe we were a bit ahead of the curve with those beers, and so we have redesigned.

Until Asians develop a more robust culture of beer, I'll take this as an interesting--if not particularly relevant--statistical quirk.

The Virtues of Virtuosity

Last night I finally got around to drinking my sample bottle of Ninkasi Maiden the Shade. It's an incredibly accomplished beer (review to come), and were any other brewery's name on the label, it would be getting lots of attention. A friend of mine, though, expressing what I think is a common sentiment, dismissed it as "another Ninkasi hop bomb." And indeed, it is that. It got me thinking, though: what's so great about style virtuosity?

The US is an immigrant country and we love diversity. It thrills us to see an Irish pub nestled between a Mexican and Thai restaurant. We are quick to absorb foreign influences and add them to our bubbling cultural stew. It's a bias we take into beer as well. Breweries that hew to a single influence don't get the geek cred that those with broad style palettes command. A line of British-style beers? Yawn. I mean, don't you have something with a little brett in it?

Of course, we don't hold foreign breweries to this standard. We don't say, regarding a new release from Cantillon--"Really, another lambic? Jeez, when are you guys going to expand a little?" Of Fuller's we don't demand doppelbocks nor do we despise the monks of Orval for making a single beer. In fact, we don't like it when foreign breweries screw around with different styles. We like our foreign influences undiluted, traditional, ancient.

I am agnostic. Some breweries are generalists--they brew a hodgepodge of styles from around the world. Some breweries are specialists, honing in on a single focal point. I have no preference, except that the beer is good. If Ninkasi can continue to put out beers like Maiden the Shade, I say go. There are a lot worse things in life than being the masters of hops.

As always, it's what's in the glass that matters.

Labatt Buys MacTarnahan's, Pyramid, and Magic Hat

Last week Widmer acquired Kona, and today, Labatt bought up the collective of breweries known as Independent Brewers United--that is, Magic Hat, Pyramid and MacTarnahan's. Labatt, which is owned under the title North American Breweries, also owns Genesee and Dundee. In a press release, the new owners claim that they will change nothing:

• The beer will remain the same: it will be brewed by the same people in the same breweries, using the same recipes, ingredients and commitment to artisanship as it has always been.
• All breweries, Alehouses and the Artifactory will remain open. They provide a unique opportunity to sample and showcase the company's best beers and brewing capabilities. Through the retail locations, we can talk to customers about the beers they want us to make.

I'm trying to track down someone for a comment on the Mac's side. I'll update you if I can find out more.

Update. Still haven't gotten anyone from Mac's, but there's a nice clarifier from Frank White in comments:

An NYC-based private equity firm called KPS Capital Partners bought bbought both Genesee and Labatt's USA rights (from Bud/InBev) last year, and formed a shell subsidiary called North American Breweries. NAB is now buying IBU, which is Magic Hat, Pyramid & Mac's.

This deal is happening because the private equity fund (Basso Capital Mgmt)that's financed Magic Hat's expansion and subsequent purchase of PyraMac (I just invented that) has been hemorrhaging cash and "has decided to exit the beer business". So they're selling the whole thing to KPS, which specializes in "turnarounds, restructurings, bankruptcies, employee buyouts and other special situations". Basically it's a distressed sale, not strategic in any way.

Review: Coalition Brewing

2724 SE Ankeny
Portland, OR 97214
(503) 894-8080
Website

Hours: Wed-Sun, noon to midnight. Beer Prices: Shaker pint - $3.75. Beers: A range of NW-style ales and rotating "Coalator" beers brewed in conjunction with local homebrewers. Menu: Light fare, including sandwiches, salads, and appetizers, a cut above pub grub in quality and ambition.

Coalition's unavoidable first impression is its size: wee. Call it the Smart car of brewpubs (but with a ten-barrel brewhouse, don't call it a nano). I'd like to direct your attention to less obvious aspects. Note the heavy, single-plank fir bar, the embossed glassware, the wood paneling, the precise photographs on the walls, the solicitous staff. Coalition isn't an ad hoc pub; everything about it is intentional and well-executed. Of course, it should be. I first blogged about Coalition Brewing in April '09 (when principals Elan Walsky and Kiley Hoyt were thinking to call it Hobo), and it opened more than a year later, in June. During that time, there were the usual setbacks start-ups face, but more than that, there was a lot of planning going on.

Coalition sits in the heart of the inner Southeast, nested along 28th Avenue's restaurant row. The Kerns Neighborhood has elements of Buckman and Laurelhurst, high and low, and Coalition has aimed to cater to both. The space is--though small--both comfy and elegant. It spills out through a garage door that is the width of one wall, bringing the outside in (I worry that it's going to be awfully small in the winter months, though). The menu features better fare than you find at most pubs, but the price is great--and shaker pints of beer are only $3.75. The clientele is a mixture of the hipster techies like Crema, next door, draws, and young, casual Buckman types.


The Beer
Coalition debuted with three hoppy beers and then added two more. I would guess this is, as everything, intentional. In Portland's ADHD pub scene, Coalition needed to win converts on the first pint, and the surest way to a Portlander's heart is through hops. They started out with a pale (5%, 59 IBUs), and ESB (5.5%, 56 IBUs) and a red (5.7%, 59 IBUs), all of which were fairly similar in type. The red is my favorite of the bunch. The malts are creamy and slightly candy-sweet, and they help offset the sharp bitterness. The next addition was an IPA, which counter-intuitively, wasn't quite as aggressively hoppy. But then came a stout, which is. All of the early beers were a bit tannic, which added to the perception of bitterness. Later batches, though, have had far less of the tannic grind and are quite tasty.

For those who prefer less bitter beers, there's a very nice cream ale (actually, I'd say it was closer to a kolsch). Light, peppery, and very sessionable. The final beer in the regular line-up should be coming on-line this week--a maple porter. Kiley hails from Vermont, and this is a tip of the hat to the homeland. (I married a Mainer, and I can confirm that maple syrup is a major part of the culture of New England. If you visit, just make sure you know the proper use of the term "sugar bush.")

Finally, Coalition's name comes from the idea of working with the community of home brewers to create one-time beers. In the "Coalator" program, homebrewers work with head brewer Bruce McPhee to reproduce recipes in small batches. Last week, they had on a fantastic strong wheat ale from the program. Because the batches are so small, there's no way to predict what will be on (though they're pretty good about updating it on their Facebook page).


The Menu
Coalition clearly has a pretty small kitchen, so elaborate meals are out of the question. Still, they have tried to improve on the standard pub menu. I had a sandwich made with Oregonzola that was amazing (though sadly, it was a special). The salads are use fresh, tasty greens. They recently switched the menu, leaving behind the meat muffins that were getting so much attention (a loss I can't say I much lament), and seem to have gone for an even more elegant line-up. They also do exotic hand-made ice cream--balsamic and strawberry, lemon-pear, peanut butter, and chocolate covered bacon (!).


The Upshot
Coalition has been open less than two months, and it already feels like a neighborhood fixture. It's literally four blocks from my house, so I've watched its evolution and visited more often than I do most pubs. None of the beers is a trend-setter or instant classic, but none is a dud, either--a good start for a two-month-old. I've spoken with Kiley and Elan about future beers, and they have some fascinating ideas (one on the super-secret down-low I've been forbidden from discussing). Sitting in the setting sun on a summer evening, it's hard to beat the laid back, comfortable atmosphere. A welcome addition to Beervana.

Last Round Cures Hangovers? Not Really

Forget mousetraps. You want to get rich, find a cure for baldness, cellulite, or hangovers. These mountainous accomplishments would make Viagra look like the Kansas cornfields. It's impossible, of course--baldness, cellulite, and hangovers are part of the human condition. They are not solvable any more than the need for living humans to breathe. Yet still we have tonics, salves, and creams. I received a batch purporting to cure hangovers a few weeks ago from HerbaSway Laboratories. Biding my time until Oregon Craft Beer Month, I then put them through a rigorous clinical trial.

Last Round comes in 2.5-ounce bottles containing a solution of foul-tasting herbs, the scariest of which is Kudzu extract. Says HerbaSway: "You just down one before you go to bed – before a hangover sets in – and the all-natural herbal blend erases your “sins” by detoxifying and breaking down alcohol while you sleep. And when you wake up, you will actually feel good."

That kudzu is apparently the "active" ingredient--search the Google and you find stories about how this traditional hangover remedy from Asia deploys isoflavones to keep you daisy-fresh. Or something.

Anyway, in my own experiments, I was left with a foul taste in my mouth and no appreciable benefit in the morning. In fact, I felt worse than had I used my own remedy, a pint of Gatorade and Ibuprofen, which generally nips the worst trouble in the bud. The 2.5 ounces of liquid left me parched, and the kudzu worked no miracles. I awoke creased, creaky, and growning, feeling every bit my 40+ years. On the positive side, the kudzu didn't appear to kill me. So there's that.

A six-pack of bottles (the amount I received), sets you back $18, or the price of two Old Lompoc Bob's Memorial Braggots. One tastes horrible, the other sublime. Neither will make you feel very good in the morning. I'll allow you to draw your own conclusions about which is the better buy.

No, Jimmy Carter Did Not Save Beer

A curious meme passed around the blogosphere last week. Not the beer-o-sphere, though, the polit-o-sphere. It went like this:

If you’re a fan of craft beer and microbreweries as opposed to say Bud Light or Coors, you should say a little thank you to Jimmy Carter. Carter could very well be the hero of International Beer Day. To make a long story short, prohibition led to the dismantling of many small breweries around the nation. When prohibition was lifted, government tightly regulated the market, and small scale producers were essentially shut out of the beer market altogether. Regulations imposed at the time greatly benefited the large beer makers. In 1979, Carter deregulated the beer industry, opening the market back up to craft brewers.

I found this odd. Two of my great passions are politics and beer. I am one of 472 Americans who think Jimmy Carter's presidency wasn't so bad. I'm even a bit of an amateur beer historian. And yet never have I heard of this monumental legislation. Surely someone would have mentioned it before now. Yet late last week, scads of blogs--many from the MSM--picked up the story and ran with it. Carter's a hero! Forget the Camp David Accords, he brought us good beer!

I bookmarked the page, determined to get to the bottom of this. Fortunately, my cause was abetted by Alexander Mitchell, whose mind had been running down the same track. His conclusion? The original blogger, Balloon Juice's ED Kain, conflated Carter's much-praised legalization of home brewing with "deregulated the beer industry." After a lot of digging, Mitchell concludes that it's a classic case of urban myth running wild on the internets:

What I discovered is that, as of this moment, "Jimmy Carter deregulated brewing" is on track to replace "Ben Franklin said 'Beer is proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy'" as THE most popular "urban legend" regarding beer, thanks to people online citing the New Republic piece.....

Kain, for what it's worth, admits that there was no legislation in comments to the post. ("Actually Carter's deregulation of home-brewing was a deregulation of the beer market. I'm still failing to see how that doesn't count. " And that, of course, is the problem.)

I'll add one more piece. If you go to the original souce, you see a graph charting the growth of craft brewing in America; follow the link and it takes you here, to a March blog post about craft brewing (lesson: follow your links!). It's a long article making some point about " distributed biological production." But the key point, and the ur mistake that led to a thousand mis-appropriations, is this passage:

In 1979, Jimmy Carter signed legislation reopening the market to small brewers. This is an interesting and crucial point, because as far as I can tell nothing else substantive changed about the market. Deregulation reopened the market to craft brewers and the industry blossomed through organic growth and the preferences of consumers.

Very small brewers, as it happens. The author apparently didn't realize the law legalized home-brewing. (Amusingly, it did lead to a heated debate between libertarians and liberals about the advantages of deregulation on the one hand and Jimmy Carter on the other.)

Of course, laws did have to be changed: state laws. Bert Grant lobbied the Washington legislature to make brewpubs legal, as did the McMenamins in Oregon. States have tinkered more, liberalizing distribution laws to allow small breweries to get their product to market. But these had nothing to do with Jimmy Carter. He was cool, he just wasn't that cool.

Another Beervana Story

When I moved to Northeast Portland in the latter days of the last century, the quadrant had many virtues. Among them was not, however, a surfeit of good beer. Things have changed. Over the weekend, I visited the formerly-barren stretch along Williams Avenue now inhabited by Lompoc Brewing's Fifth Quadrant and Sidebar. I wanted to get a pour of that brown ale braggot while it was on tap.

Digression>> The Sidebar rocks. I'm almost reluctant to mention this, because on the two ocassions I've visited, it's been nearly empty. While that's a lousy business model, it's fantastic for cranky hermits like me. The space has been imbued with the aura of a medieval pub. Barrels of aging beer line the walls (through and open doorway, you can see a cask warehouse stretching off into the darkness), a fire crackles merrily on one wall (even in the summer!), and very little light manages to sneak in. It is going to be a real balm to the suffering soul round about November. Oh, and they have a taplist comprised entirely of specialty, barrel-aged beers, always rotating.

Digression >> The braggot rocked. It was a delightfully dry, spicy variant totally unlike the Widmer's, the only other braggot I've ever tasted. Where the Brothers' was bright and light-bodied (though stiff), Lompoc's was darker and more comforting (though also stiff). I picked up a couple of 9-dollar 22s, and learned there were plenty more. That's quite a value for such a rare beverage (despite my encouragement, it seems unlikely they're going to go through the effort to make another batch), and well worth your shekels.

The street along Williams has really exploded, so we took a stroll to see what was shaking. It's amazing how quickly a neighborhood can be remade, and the complex across the street housing the much-lauded Lincoln Restaurant looks like it's been there for decades. We passed Lincoln and headed on to Eat, an Oyster Bar, which was charming enough that we decided to dine there. What a find! The ambiance is fantastic, and it turned out the food was, too. Sally had a light, elegant jambalaya, and I had the fiery gumbo.

But here's the interesting part (talk about burying the lede): they had a fantastic tap list. Just four beers, but so well-selected: Trumer Pils (always solid with food), Double Mountain Vaporizer (intensely-hopped, but not overwhelmingly so), Upright Five (a maltier alternative to the hoppy Vaporizer, and BridgePort Hop Czar (okay, this isn't such a great choice to accompany food). After an agonizing decision, I went for the Vaporizer, which turned out to be the perfect accompaniment for the gumbo. The spicy challenger hops found some kind of kinship to the gumbo's pepper--like two lost cousins finding each other unexpectedly.

The final step in Oregon's evolution to full beer nirvana is finding exceptional, well-selected beer at good restaurants. We should expect to find beer selections designed to accompany the menu--not just three or four of the best-selling beers. This is a hopeful sign that the transition is underway. Kudo's to Eat.

The Abbey Ales of Sierra Nevada and New Clairvaux

Here's a fascinating development, via Beer News:

In 2011, Sierra Nevada and the Trappist-Cistercian Abbey of New Clairvaux are working to bring this centuries-old tradition to America with Ovila—the nation’s only authentic Trappist-style Abbey Ale.

A dubbel, saison, and quadrupel are slated to be released seasonally, with proceeds going to the California abbey. These won't, apparently, be authentic Trappist ales. Sierra Nevada will actually brew them--resulting in "abbey" ales. Before you dismiss it as a gimmick, though, check out the project these beers will fund:

Proceeds from this project will benefit the monks of the Abbey of New Clairvaux in their efforts to rebuild an architectural marvel—a 12th century, early-gothic Cistercian chapter house—on their grounds in Vina, California a few miles north of Sierra Nevada’s home in Chico. The medieval chapterhouse—Santa Maria de Ovila—was begun in 1190, near the village of Trillo, Spain.

Cistercian monks lived, prayed, and worked there for nearly 800 years. In 1931, California newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst purchased the abbey and shipped it to Northern California. Hearst’s plans were never realized, and the stones fell into disrepair. In 1994, the Trappist-Cistercian monks of the Abbey of New Clairvaux, gained possession of the ruins, and began the painstaking stone-by-stone reconstruction of the historic abbey.

Cool.

A Beervana Story

I don't generally post emails, but this one from Harth Huffman really caught my eye. I asked if I could post it and he agreed.

Recently, my buddy and I were planning our cycling adventure for the summer and I suggested Oakridge. He had never heard of it and asked if it met the requirement of having a good brewery or pub and I sent him some info on Brewers Union, based mostly on your reports. Well, we returned from our trip yesterday, and I want to tell you that Brewer's Union Local 180 is a real gem in the heart of Beervana!

I, too, love cask ales, so this was on my radar since your initial reports, and the beer did not disappoint. In fact, it exceeded my expectations. They had six house cask ales on tap and several excellent guest taps (though we didn't bother trying any of them because house house brews were too good to pass on). Not only was the beer notable for the flavors and nuances all across the board, but it was refreshing (literally and figuratively) to find such quality beer in the 4.5 - 6% abv range. The IPA was excellent and unlike any I've ever had. On our last night, they changed the stout tap (which was also very nice) to a brown ale. I don't usually care for that style because it can be a bit too sweet for me, but I did not want to stop drinking this version, which had a nice hop balance to the rich malt, something normally restricted to beers much higher in alcohol content.

Again, we are talking about damned good beer here. Add to all this a limited but high quality pub menu with affordable prices (cheap, even), great staff hospitality, a homey, classic atmosphere in a nicely executed design, and some colorful locals while surrounded by mountains and a clear summer sky, and it adds up to an unforgettable beer experience, even in a region that regularly offers great beer experiences. The owner mentioned you hadn't been there yet, and I wanted to write to encourage you to make the trip (there is a nice hostel right up the street and great streamside camping two miles down the road). You will not be sorry.

As for my own visit--soon! I have been planning to get down for months. First my dad had his injury, sending me to Idaho four times (he's made a complete recovery), and then I decided to paint the house. So, September for sure. Anyway, maybe others can act on Harth's advice in the meantime.

CDA in the WaPo; Braggot in the Side Bar

Abram Goldman-Armstrong may be winning the fight. Check out this article in Tuesday's Washington Post:

"Black IPA" would be a contradiction in terms: How can you be both black and pale? "India black ale" would be more accurate; however, at least one brewery has had that term struck down by federal labeling authorities for not being an accepted style. But "Cascadian dark ale," or CDA, is gaining currency, especially in the Pacific Northwest, where the style has proved popular.

I have no idea whether Abe's version of history is true or not, but he's winning the battle to have it canonized as the authentic one:

As with most emerging styles, there is a debate over who got there first. "The question is a sticky one," allows Abram Goldman-Armstrong, a beer writer from Portland who organized a Cascadian dark ale symposium in January to help draw up parameters for the style. Goldman-Armstrong asserts that the "first true CDA" he ever sampled was Skull Splitter from Rogue Ales in Newport, Ore., a special release for the 2003 Oregon Brewers Festival. He credits a home-brewing friend, Bill Wood of Seattle, with coining the term Cascadian dark ale.

For what it's worth, I think the claim is tenuous. Greg Kitsock, author of the article, suggests one earlier version, but there are other, far, far earlier examples, too. But who cares? Abe's on the road to establishing CDA, and I say more power to him. Claim one for Cascadia.

In the other bit of random news, I would like to highlight this, at the Lompoc's Sidebar:

Bob's Memorial Braggot
Brewed in the summer of '08 and blended and bottled in March '09, this beer is 2.25 parts mead to 1 part brown ale. The late Bob Farrell, one of the true gentlemen of the Oregon craft-beer world, was a great fan of braggot, and helped blend this before his untimely death from cancer. We raise our glass to Bob when we drink this! 7% ABV

Looks very cool, and worth a stop if you've got the time.

Comparing Britain and the US

A couple of days ago, judges at the Great British Beer Festival unanimously called Castle Rock's Harvest Ale Britain's best. The beer is a 3.8% blonde ale (or, variously, a pale or bitter) of apparently balanced hopping (read: modest). Last year, the GBBF designated a 4.4% mild its champion beer. In 2008, it went to a 3.8% beer, in '07 to a mild, in '06 and '05 to the same 4% pale, and so on.

The United States has no equivalen. At the Great American Beer Festival, beers are awarded by category only; there's no grand champion. Still, it is extremely difficult to imagine a scenario in which a beer of less than 4% would ever receive such a laurel in the US. (There were only 17 entrants in the mild ale category last year, one of the least competitive in the GABF.) Americans do not prize small beers. Were the GABF to designate a champeen (and they should), it would almost certainly go to a robust, probably barrel-aged beer. That's how we roll.

Obviously, part of this is structural. CAMRA conducts the GBBF and consequently hosts the judging, and CAMRA is keenly interested in the promotion of small, cask-friendly beers. We have nothing like that in the US. But it's not all structural. Castle Rock's Harvest Pale isn't the art-house pick of snooty critics--it's also a wildly successful beer:

In the last 18 months Castle Rock has been brewing at capacity due to the popularity of Harvest Pale, he added, and a new brewhouse will open in two weeks time, which will treble capacity.

Now, imagine the release of a modestly-hopped 3.8% blonde ale in the United States. See sixers of it sitting there, gathering dust, on grocery shelves? Look, there's your hand reaching for beer. It pauses briefly at the golden, but--impossible, you can't do it. May be a great beer, but you palm the relatively burly Mirror Pond instead. A 3.8% beer? No one would buy it.

Some folks lament the direction of American brewing toward the ever stronger, more intense beers. Hell, there were twice as many imperial red ales entered at last year's GABF than milds. American brewers make these beers because they sell. I don't lament it at all. It is, by very slow accretion, the emergence of our national character. It's very cool that Britain produces and consumes lots of lovingly-crafted wee ales. It's so British. But it's also cool that the Americans, brash, lacking subtlety, the volume perpetually at 11, love their crazy hop bombs. It's who we are.

Vive la différence.

Summer's Perfect Beer: Rye Pale Ales

Rye is a weed. Or was, anyway, 3,500 years ago, when it infested the wheat and barley fields of Southern Asia. As a consequence, it co-evolved with these other grains long before it was accepted in its own right. Its heyday as a bread, according to Stan Hieronymus' Brewing With Wheat, was the middle ages before dying off in the time of Victoria. It remained only in certain precincts where people were made stupid and dull by its hearty density, so said snotty wheat-eaters. In his Natural History, Pliny the Elder--the possibly apocryphal discoverer of hops--sneered at rye, saying it was "a very poor food and only serves to avert starvation."

In beer, rye has mainly been yoked to darker beers, to spice them and make them hearty. But counter-intuitively, certain breweries also put them in pale ales, and the result is a spicy, dry, quenching beer perfect for a summer day. In the Northwest, the first credit for the style probably goes to Redhook, which brewed a light rye ale more than 15 years ago. It didn't sell well and died out. (Revived for one season a few years ago and then killed off again.) This summer, I note that at least three versions were available: Oakshire Line Dry Rye, Laurelwood Wry, and Three Creeks Stonefly (a regular in their line-up). It could be that these are also flash in the pans, or that we're seeing the shoots of a new fixture in Beervana. I hope it's the latter, because the style is absolutely perfect on a hot day.

Three Creeks Stonefly Rye
The difficulty with rye is that it's a husky, ornery grain, and has been the ruin of many a young beer. Fleming Threee Creeks wisely pairs it with wheat here--they actually seasons a wheat beer with rye--and the result is a light, refreshing beer with a lively, spicy note. I found bright and tart notes (lemongrass?) but the beer wasn't aggressive or grinding--as it can be if you extract too many tannins from the rye. Of the Three Creeks beers I've tried, this is the most accomplished and also my fave. (4.6%, 28 IBUs) [Note: I just pasted this description in from my earlier review, failing to catch the bit about Dave Fleming, the founding brewer at Three Creeks who has since left. A sharp-eyed reader emailed to point this out.]

Oakshire Line Dry Rye
Oakshire substitutes honey for Three Creek's wheat. Poured very cold, the spice of the rye and the resin of the hops create a slightly aggressive flavor that seems at turns soapy or piney. But with a bit of warmth, the honey sweetness emerges, and the honey seems to provide a voluptuous creaminess that offsets the sharper notes nicely. I am re-painting my house, and after a few hours of scraping and sanding, I poured this out last night and was so happy to have a refreshing, light beer to slake my thirst. (5.5% 35 IBUs)

Laurelwood Wry Ale
My favorite rye ale comes from Laurelwood, though there may not be any left. This year's batch was on tap only briefly at the brewery, but they did bottle some, too--but you can bookmark it for next year. A drier beer than the first two, the spiciest, and most astringent. Rather than balancing it with wheat or honey, Laurelwood goes with Cascade and Amarillo hops; their citrus marries perfectly with the spice. As you can see from the picture, there's an indelible image on the label. I always forget what the actual name is; to me, it's always Hayseed Rye. (5.6% 40 IBUs)

A bit of summer yet remains. Go forth and have a rye.

Good Blogs

Back in the olden days of blogging, we had ugly, junky blogs. We larded the side-columns with text no one ever read, including a thing called a "blogroll." These were links to blogs we bloggers read and each was a little shout-out, a recommendation to the wee trickle of readers who inadvertently wandered onto our sites. Modern blogs are streamlined and pretty and foresake this old grassroots tradition. But I, a dinosaur, maintain my old jalopy of a site, and I keep to the old ways.

I've just finished updating the blogroll, and on the off-chance you are not a dinosaur and haven't seen the changes, let me be more direct about drawing your attention to some of the new ones (handily designated with an asterisk (*) for your convenience):

• Lisa Morrison, the Beer Goddess. Google the words "Beer Goddess" and you find a lot of other citations. But those of us in Portland recognize only one goddess, and her name is Lisa Morrison. All others are false goddesses meant to confuse and mislead. Lisa's the one.
• Billy Brew. Especially good on homebrewing. Today, for instance, you will find a post on yeast-washing. Cool.
• Beer Wench. Apparently the beer blogosphere is the Beer Wench's and we just inhabit it. Easily the hardest tweeting blogger in the beer-o-sphere.
• Lost in the Beer Aisle, Beer Babe, and Seacoast Beverage Lab. New England for some reason gets less national attention that its beers deserve. This trio of blogs may help spread the word.
• Mutineer Mag Blog. Magazines rarely take their blogging seriously. Mutineer does. (Though it's a drinks mag, not just beer.)
• Hoperatives. This looks like the Cincinnati Beervana. Not to give offense, or anything. If you happen to be from the lower Midwest, check it out.

There are others, and keep in mind that every link in the blog roll is a recommendation, so you should check them all out--at least once. As always, send me a link if you have a blog you'd like to be added. (Though a word to the wise: your traffic volume will move almost unappreciably.)


Update. Okay, a few more added: Beer Cave, A Pint for Dionysus, Brewlimination, Girl's Guide to Beer (London writer Melissa Cole's excellent blog). Oh, and I added back one zombie blog that seems to have awakened from the dead.

International Beer Day

Surely you have big plans. I expect you'll be attending one of the many events around the country. I mean, today is International Beer Day, after all. What, you didn't know that?

Neither did I.

Inauspiciously, the website is currently down (9:09 am), but Wikipedia tells us this much:

International Beer Day (IBD) is an August 5 holiday invented in 2007 in Santa Cruz, CA. As opposed to Oktoberfest, which is in the cold months and largely European, International Beer Day is meant to be celebrated across the world while it's still warm enough for cold beer.

International Beer Day is celebrated by drinking beer, drinking beer with friends, and buying beer for others. While there are various other traditions, these seem to be the key attributes. The suggested way to greet someone on International Beer Day is to hand them a beer and say "I bring you the gift of beer". As a general rule, you can't refuse the beer.

I think "International Beer Day" was invented by students at UC Santa Cruz with rare and coveted access to the intertubes. Or maybe it's a put-on. This business about drinking beer "while it's still warm enough for cold beer" strikes me as ... suspicious. (The average high temperature in Santa Cruz in January is sixty degrees.) But if they are having us on, they've managed to get mass media coverage, so good for them. Hoodwinking a journo is its own reward.

In any case, I am prepared to be won over. I will accept gifts of beer all day long. Happy IBD!

The Big Business of Small Breweries

For anyone in and around Portland, there was little surprise in yesterday's announcement that Widmer/Redhook's (Craft Brewers Alliance) had purchased Kona Brewing. The companies have long been working together, and the resulting collective will operate in much the same way. In terms of where breweries are located and who is designing and brewing the beers, not a whole lot will change. It may give most good-beer drinkers pause, but this is the artifact of ugly mergers from an earlier era. In fact, the CBA-Kona merger tells us a lot about how much things have changed since the bigs started plucking up breweries like Henry's and Rainier.

To rewind the tape, if we go back to the 1950s, regional breweries were still a fixture in the American brewing landscape. Schlitz was the top brewer, but only produced 7% of the country's beer--and the top ten breweries only produced 38%. Lots of little breweries still made beer for their home markets. In the sixties and seventies and early eighties, this all changed as the major breweries started to achieve massive dominance and control vast percentages of the total market. When these behemoths took over small breweries, they were buying brands, not breweries. They sold off the breweries and moved production to their larger, more modern and efficient breweries elsewhere. So names like Henry Weinhard became just another brand in a huge brewing operation. Generally speaking, the beers themselves also changed, so the name really was the only thing left. This all makes good economics, but it's depressing.

(Pabst, beloved of hipsters, isn't even a brewery--just a name. Milwaukee's most important brewery shut down in 1996 and PBR is now contract-brewed by Miller.)

This kind of merger has happened in craft brewing, too. Back in the 90s, particularly, lots of dying little micros managed to sell themselves off to bigger micros just before they bought the farm. In Portland, Saxer bought NorWester, closed the brewery and kept making beer under the NorWester name. Pretty soon then-Portland Brewing bought both Saxer and NorWester, closed the Saxer brewery and made the brands at PB Co. But this was folly--micros are not "brands" in the way Henry's was. The names don't mean much, and they have little value. In craft brewing, what matters much more is what's in the bottle, not what's on it.

The modern mergers aren't made between two struggling breweries, they're made between strong ones. When they merged, Widmer and Redhook were both top-ten sized craft breweries. Kona is a very healthy and expanding brewery, and is (amazingly) the 13th-largest craft brewery. The merger leaves all players intact--brewing operations continue apace in pre-existing breweries. The resulting collective will still trail Boston Beer, the largest craft brewery, by a long way (based on John's numbers, the new company will oversee 583,000 barrels of production--just a fraction of Boston Beer's 2 million), but it will benefit from increased efficiencies and marketing heft. Yet they'll remain distinct entities.

This is the big change. At this moment in time, anyway, craft breweries benefit from being distinctive and place-based. It is a strength to have diversity. As the industry matures, mergers are going to become the norm--if they aren't already. Once breweries reach a certain size threshold, those efficiencies, access to far-flung markets, and marketing heft mean the difference between stagnation and growth. But unlike the dark old days of macro mergers, most of them won't matter a whole lot to the average consumer.

______

Relatedly, a friend had a sixer of Fire Rock Pale last night, and it was quite tasty. Minerally, very crisp. Pipeline is a regular go-to beer for me as well. I said above that these mergers won't matter a whole lot to consumers, but for those who have new access to these beers, that's not entirely true. And that's another reason not to fear mergers--for now, anyway.

Widhook Acquires Kona Brewing

Wow.

Portland, Ore. (August 3, 2010) – Craft Brewers Alliance, Inc. (CBA) (Nasdaq: HOOK), has entered into a merger agreement that will strengthen a nine-year partnership with Kona Brewing Co. (Kona).  As a result of the merger agreement, Kona will become a wholly owned subsidiary of CBA and have the opportunity to expand its brand and distribution while maintaining its craft brewery operations in Hawaii....

Following the merger, Davis will continue to serve as president and CEO of Kona and will work closely with Michaelson to nurture the authenticity of the Kona brand and position it for long-term growth on the U.S. mainland. In addition, the current owners of Kona will receive an equity stake in the combined entity.
 
Rich Tucciarione will remain Brewmaster at Kona and the brewery’s operations will remain in Kailua-Kona on Hawaii’s Big Island, where the company takes an active role in supporting community events like the annual Kona Brewers Festival. Kona also takes proactive steps to minimize its impact on the natural resources of the island community, adopting programs that focus on solar energy, waste minimization, resource conservation, and support of local farmers and agriculture.

I do love me that Kona Porter...

Honest Pints in Olympia

This is a pretty shocking fact, but true: the Project had as of this morning not certified a pub in the Evergreen State. Fortunately we now rectify this terrible oversight. In Olympia, the three-month-old Skep And Skein Tavern joins the certified club.

Skep and Skein Tavern and Meadery
Certified Purveyor of an Honest Pint
2106 Harrison Ave NW B 14
Olympia, WA 98502

Since it's so new, there's not a lot of info, but Dave Ross sends along some details:

We opened on April 23rd of this year and are located on Olympia's "Westside" which is on the hill above downtown. We have 16 tap handles of which 14 are rotating regularly. We are trying to carry beers that are not always readily available in Olympia, which has been a lot of fun. We are also a bonded and licensed meadery with our own meads on draft scheduled for sometime this fall. In the mean time we have been selling Redstone Mead from the bottle and these have been well received.

So next time you're zipping up (or down) I-5, stop in for a pint--an honest pint. And tell us what you think. Good luck, Dave, may the place prosper--

Women Are Craft Brewing's Future

I recently spoke to a journalist doing a story on the future of craft beer. (A worthy topic for a post, but not this one.) He was interested to know how much growth craft breweries in the Northwest might be expected to enjoy. A lot can be said there, but I highlighted one factor I thought has gone relatively unexamined. Per capita beer drinking has remained pretty steady over the years, fluctuating only slightly year by year. Different states consume beer at different rates, but the trendline for individual states remains steady, too. Therefore, all things being equal, if craft breweries want to increase market share, they must take it away from macros and imports.

Ah, but all things are not equal. The other way they can do it is find new segments who don't currently drink beer. And there's a HUGE one: women. They constitute half the drinkers in America, and they barely sniff the stuff. Ladies prefer cocktails and wine. I posted results of a Gallup poll last year showing that only a fifth of female drinkers cited beer as their preferred beverage. (Men, of course, prefer beer--58% will choose it over wine or liquor.)

I just got an email from Gallup pointing me to this year's poll. Guess what--it looks like we're already seeing some substantial movement.

Women Citing Beer as Preferred Beverage

_____________________2009____2010__Change
All__________________21%_____27% ___+6%
Under 49 years old___25%_____35% ___+10%
Over 50 years old____15%_____18% ___+3%

This appears to be real movement. The margin of error is 4%, and the trends are all consistent. While we can't be certain those numbers are exactly accurate, we have to assume the actual movement toward more beer-drinking is. Moreover, if women were taking to beer, you'd expect to see the trend emerge among younger women--and so it is. The really big finding: in the past year, younger women have made a serious move toward beer as their preferred beverage. A year ago, it was the third-most preferred beverage; this year it was way out in front of liquor, and only trailing wine by 4%. It's not unreasonable to envision a future when beer is the preferred beverage among men and women.

Gallup doesn't break consumption down by type, so for all we know, these women might be Pabst drinkers. Surely some are. But you have to imagine that craft beer is picking up a disproportionate share of that shift. The beer is better and more vivid-tasting, and the marketing is far more woman-friendly than the still borderline misogynistic macro campaigns.

If I were a craft brewery, I would be extremely aggressive about trying to market to women. You may convert a few Bud men to your Sang Noirs, but it's going to be a lot easier to convert pinot women.

__________
PHOTO: DAILY MAIL

Why Do Restaurants Discriminate Against Beer?

Last night I was sitting in Fonda Rosa, a well-regarded, upscale Mexican restaurant along the 28th Avenue restuarant row. Comes the menus: food, specials, drinks. I look over and see four taps and a row of bottles--mostly Mexican--on the bar. I'm thinking maybe a Pacifico, but I wonder what those taps are. I look at the drinks menu and find the usual list of specialty cocktails and small wine list. Beer? Nada.

This is common. You go into a nice restaurant in Portland and despite a decent tap list (generally three or four well-selected choices), there's zero mention of the beer. Lots of talk of wine and booze, but nothing on the beer. Of course, this is Beervana, so when you look around one of these restaurants, you see that at least a third of the people are drinking beer. Sometimes almost everyone is. (Fonda Rosa attracts a beer-friendly crowd.) What the hell?

If I were a more activist type, I might try to start a project. You know, Beer Transparency in Restaurants or something. Fortunately, I leave that kind of thing to others.

Anyone have a theory why restauranteurs slight the beer they sell and leave it off their menu?

Bailey's Third Anniversary

You never want to leave this town. The second you do, something cool happens. Like, for instance, Bailey's big third anniversary blow out, featuring a stellar line-up of rare beers--some made especially for the event. In a town studded with impressive good-beer alehouses, Bailey's may have taken the pole position (though partisans of the Horse Brass may dispute the claim). In any case, Ezra and the New School have up their reviews. Go have a look if you, like me, had the misfortune to miss the event.

(And put the date on your calendar: August 6, 2011. I know where I'll be.)

My Craft Brewing Manifesto

Note: I'm away from the computer for a few days, so I'm reposting some of my favorite items from recent years. Regular posting will resume tomorrow, but here's a final Sunday post.

Buy local, buy good, drink on tap.

Back in the 1970s, Charlie Papazian founded the Association of Brewers--and the more well-known American Homebrewers Association--as advocacy groups for fledgling brewers. The mission grew out of the particular circumstances of that time and place, and was, for at least a decade, clear, accurate, and important. There were two categories of beer: insipid, tin-can beer and handcrafted, artisanal beer. The former had eaten its own, stamped out diversity and quality, and was busily consolidating itself into a single, monolithic product where the only distinction could be found in the color on the label. The latter cared about beer, brewing history, and beer styles, not money. The Association of Brewers therefore had an easy task: support the little guy, support good beer, support independence. It was a moral as much as business crusade.

Unfortunately, the Brewers Association (as it it now styled) still holds to these values, and they no longer have clear, obvious referents. Breweries can't easily be divided into good beer/bad beer, big/little, and independent/multinational. The brewing industry is a market, and markets grow like amoebas. Trying to contain them in boxes is of no use. And markets are by nature amoral.

I have not particular interest in how American breweries organize themselves politically. Presumably, those that are small and local have more in common with each other than they have with Anheuser-Busch. But does Hair of the Dog have more in common with Widmer/Redhook than it does with Maine's Gritty McDuff's? Probably.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
American Craft Beer Week
colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Gay Marriage

We are midway through Craft Beer Week, a promotional event of the Brewers Association. The Charlie Papazian multiverse dominates everything in American craft brewing, and so we must dutifully turn toward Denver this week. But while we do so, I'd like to offer my counter-manifesto to his outdated one. His has become a political organization. The following manifesto is designed to create the conditions for the production of good beer and a sustainable market. It could also be said to be a blueprint for how Beervana became Beervana. These things, rather than a series of ever less explicable categories of being, are what we want to nurture.

Buy Local
Show me a town where the beer drinkers are avid fans of good beer, and I'll show you a town with local breweries. It makes sense, right? If locals are buying your beer, you're inclined to make them happy. But it's not just small breweries that have this effect: look at the great brewing regions, the areas around Portland, Seattle, Denver, Philadelphia--have or had large, regional breweries located nearby. Beer is local. If you have a beer city, it means you have beer people. If those beer people buy locally, they'll have access to good beer.

Charlie has focused on the independence, but this misses the point. Markets require masses. Towns with breweries have those masses. The problem with consolidation in the 60s and 70s was that local brewing culture died out--vast swaths of the country, lacking any local beer, drank whatever was cheapest, further fueling consolidation. It's counterintuitive, but even bigger regional breweries help smaller ones flourish because they make the market even that much bigger. You don't have to be xenophobic about it, but spare a copper or two for the local guy(s).

Buy Good
Of course, it's not enough to only buy local--consumers have to demand good beer. Rather than descending into a long philosophical dispute about good, let's use the Judge Stewart rationale: we know it when we see it. Minimally, it's a beer brewed with quality ingredients and attention to style. The reason we should support good beer--whether or not it comes from a small brewery--is that this creates the market for good beer. If consumers always eschew the good for the cheap, they'll get the cheap. If they spend a bit more and buy the good, they'll make it possible for breweries to continue to brew the good. And round it goes.

Drink on Tap
You can buy many of the world's greatest beers in bottles. You can buy brewery-fresh local beer in bottles. But from time to time, you should go to your neighborhood pub and plunk down a five spot on a pint (an honest pint, naturally). The brewing ecosystem is large and diverse. If we don't support pubs, we fail to support the incubators of beer culture. Seeing others in a public space, sampling different kinds of beers, talking with your local publican (who may be the brewer), these things are the fertilizer for healthy markets. When people go to pubs, they support local beer and local business. By creating an additional market for beer, they allow non-bottling breweries to flourish--all of which makes the brewing ecosystem as a whole more sustainable.

Buy local, buy good, drink on tap. Do these things, and good beer will continue to be brewed in your neighborhood. After all, isn't that's what Charlie Papazian is really after?