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.

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.

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.

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.

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”.

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).

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?

I have a couple bones to pick beneath the pics, but I’ll leave the full rundown to dangermenparenting. You can take a looksie-peepsie at the final bracket here. And here is the lineup:

First of all, somehow Schlafly Kölsch beat He’Brew Schmaltz Lenny’s RIPA by a vote of 4-1. Inconceivable. The only reasonable explanation is rampant anti-semitism. The Schlafly is a well-made beer, but you could fall asleep drinking it. The RIPA, on the other hand, exemplifies the transcendence of the rye and hop union.

Second, Thomas Hooker Brewing’s Connecticut Barrel Series Saison made it to the finals. This overly sweet and under-carbonated saison (aged in wine barrels) never should have made it past the first round match-up with Ommegang Hennepin. I hadn’t had a Hennepin in awhile, but I was reminded how great a beer it is, particularly its yeast character. Conversely, the common compliment about the Hooker Saison was that it tasted remarkably like a Riesling. Actually, everyone else repeatedly gushed over this characteristic.

When has “tastes like a Riesling” ever been a positive beer characteristic, particularly at an event called Beer Madness (hosted in a basement in front of 92 total inches of flat-screen college basketball coverage)? Wait. Actually, I do know someone else who would like a beer that tasted like Riesling…this lady:

She’s laughing AT you.

My mother-in-law. In fact, her Facebook timeline reminds me that she drinks Riesling while enjoying Dancing With The Stars…followed-up with a spot of chocovine. Now, I had to duck out of Beer Madness right after the final tasting, but I can only assume this is also what happened in my absence with this Riesling-sipping crowd.

Here’s to a Riesling-free Beer Madness 2014.

Yet another pope is elected, and yet again my hopes are dashed that the papal name Lando II is not adopted. Of course, little is known of Pope Lando, who served a mere 6 months early in the 10th century. Although, we do know he is the only pope to not change his name upon accession (for obvious reasons), and it is speculated that he looked like this:

He was also fond of Colt 45.

But with a new pope, what better beer to review than one from the most recently recognized trappist brewery, Engellszell. And perhaps even more appropriate, the beer is named Gregorius, which at first glance appears to be a portmanteau of Gregorian (of, or relating to, Pope Gregory) and glorious. This is particularly relevant to the current papal transfer of power because Pope Gregory XII was the last pope to resign, and Pope Gregory III was the last pope not born in Europe.

However, “Gregorian” is typically only used with respect to Gregory the Great, Gregory VII, and Gregory XIII, which begs the question: What about the other 13 Pope Gregs? Sure, anything relating to Gregory VIII (who held the papacy a mere 57 days) is Gregorish, but who is Gregorius a reference to?

I don’t know, but this fancy fella is Gregorifantabulous.

A quick check to the Engelszell Abby’s Wikipedia page reveals that the abby’s first abbot after its re-founding as a trappist monastery was Gregorius Eisvogel. Oh. Oops. That would explain why it’s Gregorius and not Gregorious. Screw you right in the eye, Latin. Nobody likes you, anyway.

It pours mahogany with some light brown-orange at the edges. It’s got an average, but mostly tight, tan head. It smells like dark bread, cocoa, root beer, and dates. In the taste, I am definitely picking up some roast and a hint of coffee. At the end, there’s an unexpected slight bitterness. It’s like an earthy hop head fake with a pass to roasted bitterness. Also, there is a slight steel/mineral quality, presumably from the water they use.

If you let it warm, the sweetness and a little brown sugar comes out to complement the aforementioned, but it remains much roastier than the other trappist beers I’ve had. It also distinguishes itself from other trappist offerings in the carbonation. I was expecting the carbonation and head to be all like the usual ADHD/hyperactive child, but it’s pretty well-behaved and does its homework and chores when asked.

Grab some. It’s worth a try.

The Haybag: It’s tasty and aids in let down. What? That’s worth noting…

A couple months ago, Left Hand’s Milk Stout helped douse flames in beerbecue’s spicy food and beer experiment. It’s a yummy milk stout (big, chocolatey, slightly roasty, and just on the right side of the sweetness Maginot Line). Occasionally, one can even find it on nitro tap, which makes it creamier and, I think, even yummier.

Now, after thousands of R&D dollars, countless hours of lab nerd work, and possibly a deal with the devil, Left Hand brings you its Nitro Milk Stout in a bottle…without a divisive Guinness-like widget. So, through a secret process and some voodoo magic, Left Hand imbeds the nitrogen, which then comes alive after a vigorous pour. How vigorous, you may ask? Well, beerbecue’s R&D, AV, and Child Labor departments have teamed up to demonstrate…