Brewed Musings

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Tall Glass of Rogue Uber Pils

Lately I have been reading a book on the history of Jazz by Grover Sales…A great book for a novice like me who knows some of the history but cannot play a lick of music. Yesterday I finished the section on the advent of Be-Bop with Diz, Charlie Parker, and Monk. So when I got to the brewery I threw in some Bud Powell and let the chaos begin.

It occurred to me that the microbrewing revolution has followed much the same path as jazz, meaning that it started off with the a blend of folk and the luxuries of modern life. It then progressed on in strikingly progressive fashion to traditional styles. In Jazz this would be the big band/swing era. In brewing it was the making of IPA’s, ESB’s, and Stouts. And now we in the industry are in the Be-Bop Brewing stage blurring the lines of conventional style.

Unlike in Jazz where the musicians became bored with the rigid code of the big band which coincided with the lack of profitablility of the big bands, the brewing industry is far from losing its profit margin, but the brewers have started getting bored. So like Diz and Parker, they began to toe the line of tradition making up things that prior would have been thought of as mad. Dogfish Head Brewing on the East coast is a great example of Be-Bop Brewing. Beers such as a Double IPA, India Brown Ale, or the Uber Pils were taboo just a mere 5 to ten years ago. Now thanks to the line-skewers they are just as commonplace as the ESB and the Oktoberfest.

So as I was engulfed in making one of our company ales, in my brewing zen, my thoughts carried to how I wish I could be a Be-Bopper. I have always been a bit progressive in thought growing up in a small farming community in Wisconsin. I listened to Diz as early as age 16 when others in my class were into Metallica, Genesis, and Madonna. Much like Kerouac the music spoke to me. But could I bring his Boprosity to brewing?

Unfortunately for me my ties to tradition are too strong. Skewing the lines here and there can happen some of the time for me making a tasty discordant pint. But on the whole my brewing and my beers are, I would like to think, closer to a Basie piano line rather than a Monk-ian solo. Like Basie I let the rhythm section of water, yeast, malts and hops do much of the work with a bit of ivory ticklin’ from me. The result is more subtle but just as pleasing to the tastebuds.

At the end of the day I finished with a crescendo of pulsating brewing rhythm reminiscent of Diz and Bird’s amazing combo. Apparently the music must have gotten to me. So I locked up, hopped on the bike and train, came home, popped open a Dogfish Head Raisin d’Etre, and then turned on some Lester Young on the turntable. The mind and body had been working all day so it needed some Be-Bop mixed with a bit of luxurious tradition. Ahhhhhh….This is the life!

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Litre of Aktienbrauerei Edel Spezialbier…a great straw-coloured Pils great on a sunny spring day!

This winter has been quite tough on me both financially with the high energy prices and the mounting root canal bills, as well as emotionally/mentally with a stormy situation within the brewery leaving me defenseless. But last Wednesday brought on the feeling I imagine a bear has coming out of hibernation. We had a beer release at the pub for a new double IPA, the Double Diablos, which will take over a new tap called the Brewer’s Reserve. The Brewer’s Reserve will consist of beers mostly over 7.5% in alcohol or it will be a special beer that has been dry hopped or aged with or in oak. This new tap excites me because it challenges me to go out of my comfort zone of brewing. To show you how much of a geek I am, I had special goblet glasses ordered specifically for this beer. (Our company policy is if it is over 8% alcohol, it must be served in a wine glass…And there is no way I am serving my beer in a wine glass!)

The beer release was the first one we had at the pub aside from the Brewer’s Dinner we did to release the Weizenbock. One of the pieces of brewing I had been neglecting over the past few months thanks to the brutal Rocky Balboa-type winter that put me in the corner and beat me to a senseless pulp was the interaction with the people who have been consuming my brews. It is very nice to sit and have a pint with the customers to find out what they like and which of the beers on tap they continually drink.

When I got to the pub, after a frustrating appointment with a specialist who will attempt to remove the file from the root of my tooth that required the canal, several of the employees asked me if I was nervous. My reply was a calm and cooled, “No.” I have done these so-called “Meet and Greets” before and enjoy ‘em very much. So when I opened the door to the event and opened the tap - which was already pouring thanks to some renegade bartenders - my arms crawled with goosebumps. By the time we got things rolling the compliments were flying from every direction. And the excitement grew inside me.

The other brewer and his replacement stood there in newbie confusion whilst I grabbed sample after sample and proceeded to any table I was pointed to. I worked the room. I joked with every patron who was willing to sample a double IPA of 8.5% made from 3 different types of pale malts from across the globe, and from 7 different types of hops. The smiles from their faces, as well as the look of delight in tasting something that they were not expecting, made me smile. It brought on the realization that this is what I was missing.

The night continued on with me working every nook and craney of the pub property whilst the newbie and his newbie sat at the table waiting for people to come to them. Silly rookies! A group of men sampled Double Diablos while sharing stories of how they homebrew, or how they cringe at buying a bottle of beer for $6…And yet they do it. Goblets of Double Diablos could be seen at tables, on server’s trays, and being poured by the bartenders. Throughout the night, I shook hands; I self depricated; I marveled at the customers, and thanked the customers, and admired the customers more, I think, than they did in regards to the beer. Double Diablos satisfied them, and in turn their satisfaction brought out some pride in me as a brewer.

Two hours had passed and Double Diablos was not the only beer being appreciated. The Weizenbock had been tried to take over the night with a couple of high compliments, but was soon put back in its place in second…if only for the night. The Weizenbock compliments just made the evening that much better for me because I had yet to hear too much about the beer. By now it has aged over 6 months and continues to get better flavour. One very special person said the beer had the aroma of a very common spice, the name of which escapes me right now and will taunt me continuously until I try to sleep tonight.

Much thanks go out to the Double Diablos and Weizenbock and the people who sampled it on Wednesday. These are the people who have brought me out of a brewing slumber. Considering it came the Wednesday after I got back from the Cask Ale Festival, it could not have happened at a better time. Sometimes you have to go back to the basics. Sometimes you have to venture out into uncharted territory. This time I just had to rely on an old friend, human contact, to arouse all the flames that brought me into this industry in the first place.

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice:  Although March Madness is on, it is still early so I am enjoying a cup ‘o Stumptown java…the beer comes later

I am not sure where my mind has been lately considering I have forgotten about birthdays.  Not just any birthdays, my brother’s, my father’s, my mother’s.  Well let me rephrase.  I have not forgotten about them, I have missed ‘em.  And not really missed them, but living on the west coast, 2 hours ahead of all of ‘em, makes it difficult to call them when I get home from work at 7pm my time.  No excuses though, my brain has been pathetic.  My brother’s was Sunday followed closely by Jack Kerouac’s on Monday.  I could not call the latter because he passed away, AND I could not call the former on his birthday because I was in a car travelling back from Seattle and a beer festival, not making it home until 10 pm my time.  (Still…pathetic)

Technically though it was really only 9 pm, but thanks to our wonderful Congress and president daylight saving time came a month early this year.  Two things I learned whilst in Seattle was that there is no ending s on saving.  Who knew?  The other thing I have learned about this crock of shite called daylight saving time is that by moving the date to the second Sunday in March from the second Sunday in April (or what ever it was) we have gone from being two weeks behind Europe to two weeks ahead of Europe.  They move their clocks ahead by an hour on the last Sunday in March…or after the Spring Equinox.  Well if we are going to do this stupid moving of clocks, could we not all do it at the same time?  Personally, I would rather not do it at all.  Is it really saving that much money?  How about teaching your citizens about conservation instead of manipulating nature to “save energy.”

Saving energy was primarily what I was doing up in Seattle.  Saving physical energy by going to two beer festivals and a Belgian bar where all the energy consumed was the energy of drinking beer.  Thankfully the Washington Brewers Guild moved the Cask Ale Festival to the spring, so this time I could actually make it.  But little did I know there was also a Barley Wine festival going on as well in West Seattle.  (The weekend prior there was a Barley Wine and Big Beer Festival in Portland which was exquisite!)  Plus in addition to these fine festivals, my friends and I made what appears to be an annual trip to Brouwers, a Belgian bar that serves some of the best beer and Mussels and Frites!  It was a brewer’s dream…well if that brewer was a poor Confucianist who could not afford to go to Belgium and England.

So after consuming some of the best beers I have had in a great while with some of my dear friends who I do not get to see as much as I would like, I realized that in my beer stupor and in the daze of DST I had forgotten my brother’s birthday.  I would say it was the brew’s fault but I cannot blame him.  He has never hurt anyone.  It was daylight saving time!  That wanker has screwed up my brain with the utmost confusion and astonishment!  Off with his head!

Prost!

the confucian brewer

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOWEVER BELATED IT IS, TO MY MOM, DAD, BROTHER, AND ANY OF THE OTHERS I HAVE MISSED…I AM SURE THERE ARE MANY.

Brewed beverage of choice:  A cup of organic green tea…

Two of the musings swimming in the cosmos as I spent my time commuting to the brewery yesterday…

Philosophisers are merely bored mathematicians

And

Why is it that we as a society are so appalled
by the thought of a cloned sheep or cow
yet we will sit at our favourite bar or pub
sipping on a frosty glass of Budweiser… 

Prost!

the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Cup o’ Joe from Stumptown (34th and Belmont…across the street from happening)

What The Fuck?!?

Gunshot…34th and Belmont
4 p.m. - Sunny Sunday afternoon
Quiet Neighbourhood. Armed robbery
Suspect, escaped!
Store clerk in critical condition.
Our neighbourhood:shaken
What the fuck?

Confused,
the confucian brewer

Brewed Beverage of Choice:  An Imperial Pint of Oak Aged Stonecutter’s Scotch Ale

Every two years I become violently ill for some reason.  Stranger still is that it coincides with election years.  Do not get me wrong, I vote like every good American should.  But when I turn on the tele or listen to the radio, the ads put out by campaigns for this and that sicken me.  And it is a two way street on what causes me to wretch: the ads using misleading tactics to sway voters AND the voters falling for these tactics without ever questioning them or their motives.  In fact it is the latter that makes me more ill.  And in my dreamy brewing world I thought that we, as brewers, would never fall into such frays.  Oh how wrong I was.

Two or so weeks ago the company I work for had its annual “Battle for the Belt” in which all 20 breweries within the company vie for the title belt and a trip to the Oregon Brewers Festival.  Fortunately and unfortunately, the vote is left up to the patrons.  I say unfortunately because each year it is held in the same pub with many of the same regulars voting for their pub’s beer.  As you can plainly see, the event is basically a glorified popularity contest.  (Although last year and possibly this year the best beer did win.)  My complaint does not, as it appears, fall on the voting process.  This year, two brewers, who I respect within the industry, took the competition to an all new low.

Much like elections are won with money and “propoganda”, this year’s battle became a showcase for free t-shirts and stickers handed out by these two brewers.  Everywhere you looked someone had on one of their t-shirts including a general manager who was serving every table (conflict of interest?) and the wife of my former brewing partner.  I would equate the second instance to this…a wife of a Yankee player wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey or hat in public.  The result of this onslaught of propoganda and advertising blitz was a second place finish for a beer that was in the middle of the pack, which coincidentally is where we finished.

This is not the musings of a sore loser.  It may seem that way but it is not…even for a self depricator such as myself.  These two followed the very loose set of rules which had no limit to what can be spent on the competition.  Here is one major problem.  No other brewer knew they could or could not make up shirts for their beer out of their own pocket of money.  And kudos for these two who talked people into wearing their t-shirts and stickers.  My problem goes much deeper.

For me it is the beer that should do the talking for itself.  My beers are self promotion devices in and of themselves.  If patrons do not like a certain beer, I tweak it so they will.  I will not and ethically cannot stoop to have t-shirts made for my beer to win a competition.  I lost a great deal of respect for these two not because they followed the rules and loved their beer they made, but because it appeared to me that they did not trust the beer they made to be able to do well on its own.  They had to campaign in order for them to do well.  In my eyes, a brewer should never have to campaign to get people to enjoy their beers.  Advertise…yes!  Campaign…never!

So I sit here this rainy afternoon sipping on a pint of a crafted ale that finished in the middle of the pack.  There is a bit of a jaded, cynical feeling deep down because I am afraid once that door has been opened it is hard to shut.  Next year though I will make another hand crafted creation and sit down with my friends and father marveling at what great beers can be made whilst I let said creation do all my talking for me.  Besides my beers seem to have a much better vocabulary than I.

Prost!

the confucian brewer