Boulevard Brewing Nommo Dubbel: More fun than a barrel of Nommos

Next up, Boulevard Brewing’s Nommo Dubbel:

More freaking mermaid labels. So, we already established in the Uinta Sea Legs review that being lured into the ocean by a mermaid was like risking your life to get to first base with a Pentecostal chick. Well, with the legend of the Nommo, the good people of Mali have upped the gamble. There are mixed descriptions, but it appears that in addition to the fishy lower half, Nommo’s are also hermaphroditic, conjoined twins.

Now, that may be your bag. Beerbecue isn’t here to judge your sicko fetishes. But the label makes it look like the hermaphroditic…ness is either manifested in each twin being one gender, or one is a little more lady and the other is little more dude. Either way, one twin is probably a total grenade. So, good luck getting a friend to take Mother Goose duty on a mermaid that looks like a Patrick Mohr runway model:

New rule: Don’t read beerbecue before bedtime.

It pours mahogany with a light tan head that enacts the No Lace Left Behind Act of 2013. WARNING: I don’t care what you do with other Nommos in your free time…that’s your deal. Just make sure you let this Nommo warm a bit. I can pick up hardly anything at all at cold temps, but once it warms it smells like molasses, snicker-doodle cookies, bananas, and rum soaked raisins. And the taste is pleasantly malty with brown sugar, fig, toffee, and a hint of clove. It has pretty good carbonation, but manages to finish slightly sweet (which I like in dubbels). Bottom line: It’s subtle, and if you don’t let it warm-up, it smells like nearly nothing and tastes like a poor man’s Chimay Grand Reserve. Fortunately, after it warms, it’s still subtle, but it develops a tasty personality all its own.

The Haybag: Nommos be creepy. Malians need better mythology. Except for this Nommo. This Nommo be tasty.

Dogfish Head Noble Rot: Something rotten in the state of beerbecue

Next up, Noble Rot from Dogfish Head:

This post may be of particular interest to one of my favorite blogs: Liquorstore Bear…a blog written by a wine-loving, ratty-looking, British Columbia liquorstore charity bear with a drinking problem. See, the Haybag has had a stuffed koala bear, Barry, her whole life. And as you can imagine, a 33 year-old bear would be a little worn; but much like Liquorstore Bear, Barry’s lifestyle decisions have left him pretty haggard…nobly rotten, if you will.

So, as a birthday present for the Haybag, I refurbished Barry. After a consult with my Mom and a quilt-blogging co-worker (Elle-mental), I unstuffed Barry, reinforced his weakening seams, ironed on interfacing in severely mange affected areas, washed him thoroughly, and restuffed him. Below are some pics. Warning: They are not for the squeamish. Liquostore Bear, this is your future:

Left arm about to fall off.

It puts the lotion in the basket.

Noble Rot is a peculiar beer brewed with pilsner and wheat malts and a Belgian yeast. But that’s where the beer ends and the wine begins. It’s also brewed with viognier grape must (juice, skins, and stems) that was infected with botrytis fungus. Now, before you start worrying about the date of your last tetanus shot, many sweet dessert wines and late harvest wines harness this “noble rot”. It actually reduces the water content in the grapes while magnifying their sweetness and complexity. The second winey addition is pinot gris must intensified by “dropping fruit”, a process where large clusters of grapes are clipped from the vine to amplify the quality of those left behind.

Quite frankly, I think more fermentable sugars come from the grapes than the malts. At times, it actually feels more like wine masquerading as beer than vice versa. It’s identity crisis continues with the pour: A very wine-like, pale, clear yellow. While its white, rocky head reminds you that it is beer, it retreats quickly and sets the stage for beer’s subservient role. It smells like a very wine-like grape and apple (and at times like a sweetish champagne), accompanied by a little musty Belgian yeast character lurking in the background. As for the taste, the sweet, white wine character continues to dominate. Some pilsner malt character makes a brief appearance mid-palate, and the Belgian yeast character jumps in at the end along with a somewhat dry and lightly tart finish.

It’s interesting. I wonder if some Brett would do it some good: Dry it out and give it some funk and maybe a little sourness. Somebody should get on that.

The Haybag: To me, it seems more like champagne than beer. This further deepens my like/really-hate relationship with Dogfish Head.

Westbrook Brewing Cap’n Skoons Ballistic Stout

(NOTE: This was posted last week, but for some reason WordPress unpublished it.)

Next up, Cap’n Skoons Ballistic Stout from the Charleston-area’s Westbrook Brewing Co.:

I couldn’t find anything about this Captain Skoon fella, but from the label he looks pretty piratey. If he was a pirate, though, he wasn’t very successful. He’s not even on the Forbes Top-Earning Pirates list. Although, there are some other familiar pirates on the list connected to the Charleston-area: Edward “Blackbeard” Teach, Charles Vane, and maybe the most ridiculous pirate ever, Stede Bonnet.

Granted, Stede Bonnet is a pretty awesome pirate name, but his credentials end there. Stede had zero sailing experience (typically a pre-requisite to commanding a vessel on the high seas). See, Stede was a comfortable landowner, and he grew so tired of his wife’s nagging that one day he just up and decided to become a pirate captain. To his credit, though, this is no half-assed, go-out-and-buy-a-Harley mid-life crisis. This is like Bob from accounting quitting and starting a blood-thirsty motorcycle gang.

To compensate for his lack of experience, I’m sure he selected a totally badass flag, the hoisting of which would make even the most hardened sailor weep with fear. Wrong:

And it doesn’t end there. Stede, clearly not familiar with the importance of incentive-based compensation packages in the pirate industry, chose to put his crew on salary.

“Sorry, the Swashbucklers Local 456′s collective bargaining agreement clearly states we can’t be asked to board a hostile vessel after 4:45pm.”

Well, Stede only lasted one year up in the pirate game. He was captured and hung after trying to escape the authorities in the Cape Fear River…not surprisingly, his boat ran aground.

This beast is actually a Baltic-style stout, which was brewed for Westbrook’s second anniversary. It pours like motor oil, and it has about the darkest head I have ever seen….all like frothed dark chocolate milk with a tinge of red. It smells huge: Roast, coffee, and cream, and plums. Did I mention coffee? The first taste is like biting into a dark-ass roasted coffee bean, but not one of those fair trade ones. It’s more like one that harbors the bitterness and anger of an underpaid, third world laborer. Some 99.99% cacao chocolate jumps in, along with some cream, singed molasses, a little smoke and licorice, and a hint of fruitiness (like the plums from the nose). This thing is a monster, but the good level of carbonation and the bitterness from the roast and hops keep it from getting anywhere near cloying.

It’s worth noting that Westbrook used German lager yeast. I don’t know if this contributed to the fruitiness, or what. A better blog would have figured that out for you.

The Haybag: Before I checked Wikipedia I thought you made that flag in Pixelmator. This beer is excellent. Please stop talking like a pirate.

Winification of Beer: Douchebag is as Douchebag Does

Rampant within the craft beer community is the fear that someday beer will become too much like wine. In fact, with the level of oenophile-phobia pervading the beer world, you would think that when beer reaches this event horizon, the irretractable pull will suddenly morph us all into pucker-faced, toile-loving douchebags who are beholden to the autocratic rule of food-pairing maxims, glass guidelines, tasting rankings of the anointed, and general snootiness. And who can blame them? Beer-wine equality is the stated goal of some brewers.

However, while drinking an Allagash Interlude recently (an excellent, vinous beer from one of the breweries most capable in converting winos to beer lovers) I had an epiphany. Douchebaggery isn’t acquired, like the cooties, rather, as my momma used to say: Douchebag is as douchebag does.

First of all, the perceived snootiness of wine and its drinkers is a little overblown. The modern wine era has become much more accessible and egalitarian. Good wine is showing up in increasingly casual settings and on more streamlined and approachable wine lists. Tastings are almost always geared toward accessibility. Trusted reviews are becoming more decentralized (along with the appurtenant proliferation of wine blogs). Further, the rule of drink what you like, when you like, in the vessel of your choice is becoming the norm.

Now granted, there are some snooty winos, but the beer community shouldn’t sell itself short. There are already plenty of sufficiently snooty beer drinkers in our midst. And we’re not as universally humble as we would like to think. Quite hypocritically, beer drinkers often simultaneously clutch to, and scoff at, beer’s humble and working-class roots. Further, I would argue that beer douches might be more dangerous than their wine counterparts…guts and beards can be insidiously disarming.

Besides, wine has more to fear from beer. Beer is more portable, convenient, and versatile. And as wine tries to become more casual and beer aspires to acceptance in more formal settings, I believe beer will ultimately fare better and end up occupying a broader portion of the boozing spectrum than wine…unless you can operate a Toro riding mower while holding a box of Franzia Chablis.

Just remember, as beer creeps closer to equal footing at the table with wine: Wine doesn’t make people douchey, people make people douchey. So, just don’t be a douche, and we’ll all be fine.

*Admittedly, Beerbecue may from time-to-time be guilty of such oenophobic hysteria; however, I am going to retroactively write it off as hyperbole and situational posturing.

Session Beer: I still don’t care, but if I did…

At the risk of sounding like I actually care about what constitutes session beer, I feel the need to address my new theory on the subject. Please note, however, I stand behind my previous post and thesis: What is Session Beer? Who the f$&k cares!?

Everybody’s favorite English beer Loyalist, Ding, was falling all over himself in a recent post about Session Beer Day. He discovered that in the death throes of Prohibition, the Cullen-Harrison Act had legalized the sale of 3.2% ABW (4.0% ABV) beer, as it was thought to be a level too low for intoxicating the masses. This lines right up with Ding’s notion of the 4% session beer Maginot Line, which has heretofore been based on a historical analysis of major British breweries’ lowest ABV offerings.

Of course, I can only assume that the 73rd Congress soberly arrived at this ABV level after much deliberation, many hearings, and thoughtful consideration of scientific data – free from any considerations not in the best interests of the US populace. That’s a safe assumption, right? Then it must be THE watershed moment for US session beer. And therefore, for purposes of this post, I will concede this point and use it as a US session beer baseline.

Since the 1930s, however, the average American has increased in size, and likewise in the ability to process alcohol. This point can’t be argued. Our size increase has been well-documented and derided. And as best I can determine, the average US male has gone from 5’8″ 156 lbs in 1930 to a current 5’9″ and 194.7 lbs. How does this translate in terms of processing alcohol?

We’ll take Arthur, the average 1930s male: After 4 pints of 4% beer over 3 hours, Arthur’s BAC would be 0.057. This is clearly low enough for Arthur to safely maneuver his Deusenburg to go catch a “talkie”. Comparatively, we’ll take Steve, our average contemporary male: After 4 pints of 5% beer over the same time period, Steve’s BAC would be 0.057. What?!

I’ll see your Keanu “Whoa” meme and raise you an Alex Winter.

So there you have it. For us husky Americans, session beer = 5% or less. What are the implications of my discovery? Absolutely nothing. Just choose whatever beer is appropriate to your circumstances – whatever the eff it’s called – and drink it. That is all.

*Paradoxically, Ding and I are so far apart on this topic, that we have reached a similar conclusion: US brewers should stop using the term “Session Beer”.

The Session #74: Finding Beer Balance – Is this an intervention?

This month’s installment of the Session is hosted by Bryan at This Is Why I’m Drunk. The topic is “Finding Beer Balance”. The topic suggests that there is perhaps more to life than beer. While I find Bryan’s premise shaky, I’ll play along.

Actually, after giving it some thought, there are a number of facets of my life that I am constantly seeking to balance with my love for beer. Personal hygiene, nutritional, recreational, parenthood…just to name a few. However, this may be best demonstrated in video format. So, I give you: Beer-Life Balance (with musical accompaniment from the White Stripes).

Allagash Black – Never bet on Wesley Snipes

Next up, Allgash Black:

Always bet on black…at least that’s what Wesley Snipes famously proclaimed in Passenger 57. In the case of this beer, he was right. In the case of his tax advice, the McKean Federal Correctional Institution says he was wrong. A little tax season advice from someone with an LL.M. in tax: If the position on your return is based on the argument that Ohio did not actually become a State until 1953 (and thus its earlier ratification of the 16th Amendment is invalid) you may be on shaky legal ground.

Although, practically-speaking, getting rid of Ohio is a worthy idea.

Perhaps less remembered about Wesley Snipes is that he was Michael Jackson’s nemesis in the video for Bad. Jackson and Snipes have a tense standoff in an abandoned subway station. Then, Snipes backs down after Jackson exploits a major weakness in Snipes’ extensive Shotokan Karate and Hapkido training with a deadly West Side Story-influenced song-and-dance number.

Beanie, toboggan, tuque…whatever you call it, it’s menacing.

It pours, um, black…with scarlet highlights. It has a solid, creamy-looking head, but not overly exuberant. Smells like dark baker’s chocolate with some roast and a yeasty fruitiness. Same in taste, along with some espresso and a nice roasted bitterness at the end. It’s got this very slight earthy and herbal thing running through it, and as it warms, some cola and a hint of the booze come out. A little more carbonated than your usual stout, but it’s Belgian after all. It’s not dry; it’s not sweet, but it is clean. (Allagash beers always seem to be in the style’s Goldilocks Zone in this respect.) A very solid Belgian stout (which I love).

The Haybag: I have always liked this one. Hey, tax LL.M., why aren’t our taxes finished yet?