Brewed Musings

Fermented Beverage of Choice: A glass of Warre’s Optima 10 year old Tawny Port

It is funny. You go through life without any sort of bump in the road or if there is a bump it is so minor you hardly feel it. Then out of nowhere a tidal wave blows through and takes your woody and your board and the lunch you packed for between tides…takes ‘em right out to sea and you are left standing on the beach scratching your head and swearing, “Feckin’ tidal wave!!! I just got that board!” That is how the past ten days have been. And when all is said and done, I may be able to salvage the woody and surfboards can be replaced.

From Valentine’s Day to yesterday, my birthday, a rather large tropical storm has ravaged leaving some good surf and some truly trearchorous waves. It started with a 4 hour visit to the ER on V-day for an infected absessed tooth that left me crying from the severe pain. I have five tattoos and a high tolerance for pain, but feck! that pain was too unbearable. Apparently a chipmunk with 10 acorns in his mouth looked better than I. And when I finally got on the pain medication, every emotion I had increased ten fold. You can imagine that I was not too pleasant to be around. Ask my dad…he witnessed it.

The tropical storm let up a bit from Sunday to Wednesday where all I was doing was brewing and recovering. The infection was bad enough where I was still feeling its affects 6 days later. Wednesday came, which was my birthday. I do not put much stock in birthdays. To me it is just a number. I am merely happy that I have made it as far as I have and by my calculations have only lived 40% of my life. There will be more surfing in that other 60% to be sure.

I was going along enjoying the day for what it was. It was sunny, a rarity for an Oregon winter day (although this winter seems to be filled with ‘em,) and I only had to work a half of a day. But by the end of my work day the winds picked up and about 25 miles off shore another wave was coming towards the mainland. This one would leave me a bit frazzled.

My pupil, my student, my brewing partner dropped a bomb saying that he just put in his notice. This news came as a shock because he had only been there a year and was just beginning to show some promise. It is hard as a “teacher” to watch a student take a big risk, especially when you feel it is too early for them. But regardless of all the instincts to try and save them from peril, all one can do is voice their opinion and let the student decide for themselves.

Initially I had taken the news personally as a slap in the face. I thought the student was being arrogant for thinking that after a year I have nothing left to teach him. I thought the whole thing foolish. But after a lot of introspection, I took it less personally and saw it not as a slap in the face. There are those that want to learn, and those who do not have the patience required. Not that I believe the student to be impatient. Just youthfully exhuberent. Patience comes as youth wears off.

This news, this wave was just the beginning. And once I am on the board, my focus is set and there is little that can be done to shake it. Later in the evening another wave came in to turn me inside again. This time it was a friend in “need” that the tide brought at me. All my life I have always put my friends ahead of everything. It did not matter that it was my birthday, my friend’s “need” came first. I celebrate life every day. A birthday celebration is unnecessary.

This wave essentially came down to me, once again, being too many miles away from where my heart was at that moment. A feeling of helplessness is all that can be felt at that moment. I know this all too well because as my closest friend was dying from cancer, I was what felt like millions of miles away. What I did learn from this is that you can only do so much regardless of where you are. And where you are is where you are, so do what you can from there. And I followed that advice today offering everything I can give for any friend and family member in “need.”

Ask anyone who has been around me. It is truly difficult to be around a Pisces, especially one as introspective as myself. You never know when they are just going to turn to the inside, remaining quite quiet, every thought being analyzed. Believe me, it is quite frustrating sometimes to live it, let alone be around it. But what better day than your birthday to go out surfing in introspection. The only thing I do not like about it is that I smell like seaweed.

Prost!

the confucian surfer brewer

PS: Congrats to the new Smithstanza born a day too late…I could have happily shared my birthday with her!

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A goblet of Cask Conditioned Wee Heavy from Roots Organic Brewing

Every year, with the exception of 2006, some friends and I travel the I-5 corridor from Portland to the Emerald City, Seattle, for the Washington Brewers Guild Cask Beer Festival. The festival allows us to partake in some of the best cask conditioned beers the state of Washington has to offer. This year, thankfully, the organizers have moved it from its October dates to March, which now makes going to Seattle to celebrate my birthday an annual tradition. But many of you are saying, “What is a cask conditioned ale? And, lazy boy, why have you not defined it for us earlier like you said you were going to?”

We in the brewing industry refer to cask conditioned ales or real ales as “live brews” because the beers are transferred to a wood cask or metal firkin with live yeasts still suspended in them so they may complete what we call their secondary fermentation. While continuing this process the beer naturally creates its own carbonation, which accounts for another term used to describe real ales: naturally caronated. Many people, however, simply describe cask ales as “flat” mistaking the natural carbonation from its secondary fermentation as a flaw. This whole process takes about 7 days and is done at around 55 degrees F. That temperature is referred to as “cellar temperature.” Cask ales can be tapped several different ways including having the cask or firkin tipped slightly to allow gravity to feed to ale out of the cask through a spiggot; or the more standard way is to use a beer engine or hand pump. The second way gives us the old phrase, “Pull me a pint.”

Here is how the Washington Brewers Guild defines Cask Conditioned Ales:

Cask-conditioned beer is unfiltered beer brewed in a traditional method that naturally conditions the beer without introducing artificial carbonation. At the end of fermentation the beer is transferred to a cask where live yeast continues conditioning the beer. This process creates a gentle, natural CO2 carbonation and allows the flavors to develop, resulting in a richer and smoother beer.

Traditionally cask-conditioned beer is served at the cellar temperature (around 55°F) and dispensed by gravity or drawn manually with a handpump (or a “beer engine”).

Why serve a beer at a higher temperature and naturally carbonated? Well as it says, the temp and natural carbonation allows more of the rich flavours and textures to be highlighted. It makes for a smoother mouthfeel. In short, it can be more pleasing for your tastebuds, which is why I enjoy it so much.

I hopped on the cask conditioned bandwagon several years ago as a beer geek. I promote it now because it is a lost art and an underappreciated beer “style.” Thanks to the macro-brews and their brilliant marketing gurus, all beers are served at the same temperature. But, much like wine, many beers are better served at different temperatures to let their most appealing portions of their personality be on show. Cask conditioned beers are also somewhat hard to find in certain areas which makes for a fun adventure finding places that do have ‘em. The easiest places for those who are up for the adventure are British or Irish pubs.

So now that I have gotten off my skinny arse and given you the details needed to enjoy a great cask conditioned ale, why don’t you head off down to a local pub and ask ‘em to pull you a pint of their finest.

Prost!

the naturally carbonated confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Pint of Hair of the Dog Doggie Claws 2005 (If you can find this beer, get it! Try the 2004 if you can as well.)

In a unfortunate decision by the Oregon Liquor Control Commission, minors will not be allowed onto the festival grounds for the Oregon Brewers Festival at the end of July, thus ending a tradition of 19 years. As I have found out, the topic can cause heated discussions about whether or not minors should be allowed at any beer festival. My argument is, regardless of whether or not you agree with the presence of minors at a beer festival, it should be up to the festival organizers to decide if they want to handle the extra “burden” of minors and not up to government organizations such as the OLCC. But, even though this horse of a topic was beaten to death on a different website, it is not what I wish to discuss today.

Believe it or not a minor in a pub is not as immoral, unhealthy, or irresponsible as one might think. I speak from experience on this topic. Much of what I know and some of the best parts of my personality were borne in the pub. A high respect for my elders and an ability to hold conversations with everyone from my father and mother to the complete stranger at the barstool next to me came from my time with my dad at the local pub. Also developed through my time in the pub was a quite healthy view on alcohol consumption and moderation. Finally, thanks to pub life, I developed a fondness for ethnic tradition and culture.

On any given Sunday, I could be found with my dad and his friends at either the Waterford Bowl, which doubled as a bowling alley and a pub, or at what was JD’s, a small pub on Main Street. From the time I walked in to the time I left, my soda glass was never empty and there was always a quarter for the pinball machine, Pac-man video game, or the dart board on the far wall. And, thanks to Mr. And Mrs. Malison at the Waterford Bowl, along with my family, I learned to use the words “please” and “thank you.” In fact I did not get my soda until I said those magic words.

Like many young ‘uns I was a very shy boy. But at the pub I was a local hero. My elders spoke to me like an adult. Well…a young adult. They treated me as one of the community. I loved sitting at the bar and talking with the old men. They told some of the best stories as they milked their beers and watched the Green Bay Packers lose yet another game. I heard war stories, stories of their youth, stories of marriages, stories of deaths of loved ones, stories of family. All the while I sat and sipped on my soda hanging on every word. Not only was I learning, but these people were getting something that they may not have gotten elsewhere…an interested ear. I was a wee tyke therapist. They gave me an education and I gave them the beloved ear of someone who actually cares.

Over this time I also began to develop a rather healthy view on the consumption of alcohol. Unlike most teenagers of my time, I did not drink until my late teens. And even when I did have a drink, it was at my house under adult supervision. I did not have the desire to drink partly because what I learned from my time at the pub. And while not every image from pub life was rosey, what picture from life ever is? I have seen my fair share of alcoholics and drunks. Show me a person who has not? The fact that my family trusted me enough to not shield me from it says a lot. In fact I think had I not spent the time at the pub with dear, old dad, if my parents did not trust me, if they did actually shield me from the “dregs” of alcohol consumption, the desire to drink at an earlier age may have reared its ugly head.

Finally, thanks to pub life, as well as the community within, I developed a great fondness for ethnic culture and tradition. For those who do not know, SE Wisconsin, especially Milwaukee and her surrounding areas, was settled by ethnic immigrants from Europe as late as the 1920s. The culture of Germans, Irish, Italians, and Poles could be seen and heard for as far as the eye can see and the ear could hear. And even though by my youth the German bier gartens were two to three generations past, the community fostered in those places could be found in the local pub where farmers gathered to discuss crops, workers gathered to unwind, the local off duty cop could sit next to the accountant down the street. Everyone knew everyone. Pubs, bier gartens, weddings, festivals, etc. were not truly about consuming mass amounts of alcohol as they were gathering places for the community. They were places to celebrate life and its ups and downs. There was nothing seedy about it. Nothing to be ashamed of. There was nothing to hide. The pub was as important as the butcher shop, the bakery, and gas station.

Today I find myself in an unusual situation. I am fighting to have minors present at the Oregon Brewers Festival. Foreign to me because I was not brought up in an environment where alcohol and its consumption was closeted. And while I may not “win,” I will be doing my part to foster change in how we view alcohol and its consumption so that my great-grandchildren can grow up in an age where drinking in moderation is an afterthought and pubs can go back to their original intent: a gathering place for the community.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: Lakefront Bock Beer

A few months ago I received 100 free downloads from eMusic for, I think, downloading Winamp so I can listen to WMSE streaming live on the web. It took me to January of this new year to take them up on their offer. One of the many downloads I got my hands on was an album by Gil Scott Heron. On this album was a version of “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” The following is an inspiration poem with a more modern spin on the Revolution.

The revolution will not be televised.

It will not sound any better
in Dolby Stereo Surround,
and will not look any better
in high definition. You will not
be able to view the revolution
on a 55″ projection screen t.v.
as you lounge comfortably
in your lazy boy because…
The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be brought
to you commercial free
thanks to Budweiser. It is not taped
in front of a live studio audience.
It has no laugh track and no sound track.
The revolution will not be pre-empted
by the Super Bowl because…

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution has no season
premiere or no cliff-hanger season
finale. The revolution does not have
a two-part episode nor will the revolution
be thwarted by Jack Bauer in 24
one hour long episodes because…

The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be won
in either a red or blue state.
Tom Brokaw, Ted Koppel, and Dan Rather
will not falsely predict the outcome
of the revolution before the night ends.
The revolution will not have a news scroll
at the bottom of the screen with the latest
news from todays events in the revolution because…

The revolution will not be televised.

Prost!

the confucian brewer