Here’s the relevant text, translated to English:

… We wish to emphasize that in future in all cities, markets and in the country, the only ingredients used for the brewing of beer must be Barley, Hops and Water. Whosoever knowingly disregards or transgresses upon this ordinance, shall be punished by the Court authorities’ confiscating such barrels of beer, without fail.

I’m guessing the Court authorities never, ever paid for beer. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I taste some cassis in this doppelbock. I’m going to have to confiscate it. For my belly.”

I selected beers that all included something funky. Each beer was poured behind closed doors; tasters (aka our party guests) were asked to identify the Reinheitsgebot-violating ingredient from a list. I’ll be honest – I thought this would be the easiest challenge to date. But identifying some of the flavors proved difficult, especially in the berry department. Here’s what I poured:

• Jasmine: Avatar Jasmine IPA, Elysian Brewing
• Espresso: Overcast Espresso Stout, Oakshire Brewing
• Chocolate: Imperial Chokolat, Southern Tier Brewing
• Blueberry: Bluebeery Ale, Marin Brewing
• Raspberry: Wild Raspberry Ale, Great Divide Brewing
• Honey, Basil: Organic Honey Basil, Bison Brewing
• Chipotle Pepper: Chipotle Ale, Rogue Brewing
• Apricot: Aprihop: Dogfish Head Brewery

Of the bunch, I’d say the Aprihop (beer review at 999 Beers), Jasmine IPA and Overcast are in the category of “beers I’d definitely drink again.”

The Chokolat was widely imagined as “delicious over ice cream,” and I think that would be a good combo, if infrequent.

The Bluebeery tasted a little too artificial for my liking, but the Wild Raspberry had the real flavor of raspberries in every sip (I compared it to fresh-from-the-bush raspberries between pouring sessions!).

If you’d like to replicate the tasting menu, here’s the ReinheitsgeWhat?! tasting ballot, designed by yours truly.

Previous tastings:

1. 2009: Us vs. Them (Domestic and Foreign examples of Sours and IPAs)
2. 2008: Red States vs. Blue States
3. 2007: Red, White and Blue Beers

After last year’s surge in post-game web traffic, I knew we had to do something spectacular this year. This time, inspiration came in the form of a slab of shelf-stable Broadbent pepper bacon I acquired from bacn.com (now owned by baconfreak.com). The predictable thing to do would have been to chunk it up into lardons (French for thick-ass pieces of bacon) or simply slice it thick for superdelishtstic BLT’s. But the meat stuntman in me wanted to stuff it with something.

So of course I went to the best stuffing of all: more pork. I picked up a whole pork loin from Gartner’s, along with some pork sausage-stuffed pork tenderloins. If you’re counting, that’s four types of pork product so far.

I had a plan going in, but it was just a bit of stray cholesterol until I actually opened up the slab. I had no idea how much room there was in there! I got so excited I forgot to take photos of the assembly process, so instead I’ll let you digest the photo below, and describe what’s going on after the break.

Back? Not what you were expecting, was it? Heh. So the body’s the pork loin, sliced at one end to form a mouth. Inside the “mouth” are two garlic cloves acting as incisors, and the traditional apple. A couple more garlic cloves form the eyeballs, and two apple slices form the sow’s ears. The legs are those sausage-stuffed tenderloins I mentioned, with garlic toes (Mmm, garlic toes). Now, I wanted this thing to actually be tasty, and I was a bit concerned about overwhelming samplers with a lot of grease. This creation was going to be wrapped in bacon for a few hours, after all. So before I tucked her in, I sprinkled her back and legs with fresh rosemary “bristles” and lots of chopped up garlic “garlic.” Beneath the sow, I cut some drainage slits in the bottom of the bacon blanket.

I set the oven to 350, and tried not to open it every 15 minutes to see how my monster was developing. The house smelled … so delicious it was actually almost sickening. Imagine a foggy morning so thick you have to turn your headlights on. Now imagine that fog in your nose, and the whole thing smells like bacon, rosemary and garlic. It was difficult to concentrate. But four hours later, I pulled the pig and … wow. I wish you could have tried it. It was delicious, and those that could get past its eerily lifelike appearance were able to taste all four meats in one bite. Best of all, no one got sick, despite the Russian Roulette-like meat game we played. Four chances to get trichinosis, but all cylinders came up empty.

Soooo-ey!

A couple of weeks ago, the fine folks at Widmer invited us over for dinner to celebrate the release of W’10 Pitch Black IPA. Due to the enormous success of Brrr, W’10 was already in stores, but that didn’t deter our enthusiasm for this Cascadian Dark Ale.

I’ll leave a more detailed review of the beer to Dave at 999 Beers but I really like W’10, easily my favorite in the series, challenged only by W’07 that eventually became Drifter.  I think it’s a safe bet we’re going to see a lot more Cascadian Dark Ales this year and that style will be the choice of backyard BBQs and camping this summer. It’s a great blend of roasted malt flavor and hops without being too heavy.

I was joined for dinner by brewer John Eaton who generally works the overnight shift at Widmer. I was a great opportunity to discuss the entire W series at Widmer, the collaborative creative process and the success of 07 and 06 turning into Drifter and Brrr in the company’s line. In general, the brewers get together and discuss a few different styles and then they work together to hash it out and determine what that year’s W beer will be. It’s a great opportunity for the brewers to flex their creativity outside of the company’s standard brews.

It also seemed some at Widmer were a little miffed/disappointed at the lack of success of W’09, the Belgian Golden Ale and to a lesser extent 08’s Crimson Wheat. In thinking about the Belgian Golden, it reminded me of Bridgeport’s Supris and a similar tepid response.

It makes me think that major production brewers such as Bridgeport and Widmer become well known for certain styles and the consumer just doesn’t think of them as an outlet for something so different. I’m certain that in addition to letting brewers create new styles, the W series also helps Widmer stretch the consumer’s mind and while a certain year may not sell as expected, it can help open the door for future, more commercially successful new styles.

You can learn more about W’10 and the W series by going here and can find Widmer Brothers on Twitter and Facebook.

I’d like to say that the recap blog posts are forthcoming, but as every festival attendee can attest, the details tend to get hazy as the samples take hold, and SMS/Twitter reconstructions can only go so far toward recalling the flavor profiles and production details on some of the more obscure or original microbrews tasted.

Our first product, 33 Beers, is an attempt to solve this “memory problem.” It’s a beer journal we designed for rapidly taking down the important details of a beer. A unique “flavor wheel” is included on each of the 33 pages of note-taking area, and it provides a quick, visual way to describe a beer’s flavor (and recall it later). Simple check-boxes for serving method (draft, can, bottle, etc.) and other key information further speed up the process. The idea is to take notes for later recall, but do so rapidly so you can, you know … enjoy the actual beer?

Best of all, it’s highly portable, unlike the 11×17-sized, color-coded Excel spreadsheets we used to tote around to beer festivals. It easily fits in the front or back pocket of a pair of jeans, and is thinner than most mobile phones. It’s printed in the Northwest on 100% Washington-recycled paper using US-grown soy ink, so it should satisfy even the hippiest of hippie beer drinkers.

We’ve set up a web site to sell the book at 33beers.com, and it’s available in a few stores in the Portland, Oregon area (Saraveza, Belmont Station and Bailey’s Taproom as of this writing). It’s been largely a labor of love, and we’d love it if you’d help us spread the word to the other beer geeks in your life. It’s pretty inexpensive, too; it retails at $4 each or a three-pack is $10. Wouldn’t these look great under your tree?

I’ve heard all about making yeast starters and dividing that up after adding it to wort created expressly for the purpose of breeding, but frankly, that has always sounded like a lot of work.

This lost to history web page I discovered had a simpler way to harvest yeast for re-use: simply poor the dregs of a carboy into sanitized plastic bottles after doing your kegging/bottling. Up to six months later, simply open the bottle up and dump into your wort. Even I can do that.

Anyone out there tried this method before? How did it work? For the record, the yeast I’m attempting to re-use is Wyeast 1056 American Ale.

Thankfully, Labor Day reminded me of my priorities, celebrating the American worker by capturing a piece of his paycheck, this time in the form of a new, energy efficient fridge, one whose warranty I immediately began to contemplate voiding.

Here’s how I tackled fridge to kegerator conversion. It really couldn’t have been more simple, but there was a nagging voice inside that kept asking, “You’re going to drill holes in a new fridge?” Yep, and it was totally worth it. Hopefully, you’ll see how easy and worthwhile this conversion is, and shut your inner nag up.

1. Mark holes for the taps. Have the taps before you do this, and ideally the tap handles, too. You want the taps high enough that you’re not kneeling to dispense beer, but not so high that opening the freezer door causes you to spill beer all over the floor by activating the tap handles. I suggest marking the inside, where the contours are the most divergent. The nuts that hold the taps in place need to be on a flat part of the door’s interior, so look for a flat area on the interior of the fridge.

2. Drill pilot holes. Most hardware stores carry extra-long (8-10″ long) drill bits for less than $10, but in retrospect, I think a four or five-inch long quarter-inch diameter bit would have been sufficient to go through the interior plastic, the insulation, and the sheet metal exterior of the fridge door. The important thing is that the diameter of your pilot hole bit is the same, or slightly smaller than, the bit that guides your hole saw.

3. Drill Final Holes Start by using a 1″ hole saw (just a hair larger than the diameter of the taps) to drill the plastic interior lining on the door, using your pilot hole from step 2 as a guide. Don’t drill through the metal from the inside, though – it will leave a very ragged hole. Instead, drill a little more than halfway through the door from the inside, then finish the hole from the outside. This way, both holes will be nice and neat. I thought drilling the metal would be difficult, but it’s fairly thin metal, and a sharp, new bit made very short work of it.

4. Insert the Taps. If you fail on this step, you don’t have the brain cells to lose, and I suggest you abandon alcohol consumption, starting immediately.

5. Secure the Taps. Use the nuts that came with your taps to secure the taps to the refrigerator door by tightening them from the inside. A large crescent wrench is necessary to get the nuts sufficiently tight.

6. Connect Beer Lines to Taps. Connect the beer lines to the taps using the nut-end of the beer hoses. Make sure there’s a rubber washer inside the nut; tightening the nut will compress this washer, providing a good seal on the taps (no leaks!).

7. Connect Beer Lines to Kegs. There are two places you can fail in this step, probably because you’re getting thirsty after all the man work. Do as I say, not as I did. Firstly, make sure the taps are turned off when you connect them to the kegs. Most taps pull forward to dispense, so you’ll want them pushed BACK, in the OFF position. Secondly, the Cornelius kegs (aka “Corny” kegs) used by homebrewers generally have two valves, an “in” and an “out.” The latter refers to the liquid contents, and you want the “out” valve connected to the taps. It is possible to mash the beer lines onto the “in” valve, but you will not be happy with this decision.

Remember where I said to turn OFF the taps before connecting the beer lines to the kegs? This is what happens when you ignore that advice: your precious beer all over the floor.

8. Connect CO₂ to Kegs. After hooking up the beer lines, there should be only one valve left on each keg. Hook your CO₂ up to these valves (marked “IN”), and turn on the pressure at the tank. I adjusted my regulator to provide 10 lbs. of outward pressure, a little higher than I would do for just one keg, but pushing 2 kegs’ worth of beer out seemed to require a little more.

9. Attach Drip Tray I’d say a drip tray is optional, but it was really nice of your wife to agree to this kegerator thing, and a clean, unsticky floor is something she probably values. So get the drip tray, and keep your wife happy. It looks cool, too. I attached mine with Velcro so I could remove it for cleaning easily.

Kegerator Supplies:

• In Portland: Let’s Brew seems to have the best stock of parts, and has very helpful and knowledgeable staff.
• Online: Amazon has cheap parts, but are mostly for standard San-Key style kegs (most pro brewers supply bars in this format). If you’ve already got Corny kegs, I suggest something like this kit from MoreBeer.
• Screw It, I Don’t Have Time to Build One: May I suggest this fine pre-made Kegerator?
• 1-Inch hole saw and mandrel (you’ll need both if you don’t already own the mandrel that holds the saw part).
• 8″ Crescent Wrench

In the last several years, I’ve added a beer tasting component to the party. It’s a good chance to clear some space in the cellar, and a fun way to expose my friends to some “out there” beers.

This year, the theme was “Us and Them.” In two flights, I asked participants to determine whether the beer they were tasting was an American or “global” example. I worried that the theme might be too easy, as American examples of most styles tend to be on the “11″ portion of the flavor volume dial, so I threw a few sneaky ones in.

The first flight was IPA, and I tried to find a few non-American versions with amped-up hops, and a few American IPAs with toned-down hops. Here’s the lineup I threw out:

1. Hair of the Dog Blu Dot Imperial IPA (2009), Portland, OR
2. Meantime IPA, London, England
3. Boulevard Double Wide IPA, Kansas City, MO
4. Full Sail Sunspot IPA (2006, so the hops had mellowed WAY out), Hood River, OR
5. St. Peter’s IPA, Suffolk, England

From a field of about 20 entrants we had three winners, few of them beer geeks. Prizes were a bottle of the 2009 Hair of the Dog, a box of Bengal Potatos, and a Sam Adams “special beer glass” (that last one I was just trying to get rid of).

I was most proud of the sour beer tasting held later in the afternoon. I was a little worried the beers might not go over well – few non-beer geeks have sampled the genre, and the taste is a little … unfamiliar, to say the least. I am proud to say that I converted at least one wine drinker!

The lineup here was a little harder for consumers – as with the IPAs, the Belgian examples tend to be a little more refined and complex-tasting than their American cousins. But, the road is less traveled, and only the beer nerds in the group had tasted some of the examples more than once or twice. My lineup:

1. La Duchesse de Bourgogne, Vichte, Belgium
2. Russian River Consecration, Santa Rosa, CA
3. Cascade Blackberry Ale, Portland, OR
4. New Belgium Dark Kriek, Fort Collins, CO
5. Rodenbach Grand Cru, Roeselare, Belgium

The Duchesse and the Consecration were the standouts in my opinion, although the Grand Cru was very “sophisticated” tasting, maybe even too subtle for this red-blooded American. The oak of the Consecration was really apparent when compared to the others, but it’s not something I really noticed when I drank it on its own. And the Duchesse is beautiful, always.

The prizes here included a New Belgium La Folie (a personal favorite), a New Belgium goblet, and a three-pack of sour candy I picked up at Freddies. As with most things in life, the lesson here is not to take yourself, or your beer, too seriously, as Dan Painter so boldly illustrated:

Many thanks to Kari Hay for the photos. I was too busy pouring/drinking beer to document the day’s festivities!

Past Tasting Themes:

1. 2008: Red States vs. Blue States
2. 2007: Red, White and Blue Beers

We got into Ashland a little late on the first night of our beer trip, mostly due to an unplanned stop in Eugene for a sit-down dinner (I thought we’d fast food it). After checking into 4 rooms at the Bard’s Inn, it was already 11:30, but we rushed over to Standing Stone Brewing anyway, since it was the first real stop of our trip. I’d e-mailed the brewery ahead of time (that’s how I got the hotel recommendation), but Thursday looked to be a pretty sleepy night in Ashland, and I wasn’t sure they’d still be open.

In fact, they were just about to lock the front door when 8 thirsty guys from Portland showed up. As our ringleader, I asked if we could sneak one beer in, and Adam, brewer, bartender, and all around nice guy, said yes.

We had the entire place to ourselves, but Adam poured us a round and answered questions for at least a half-hour. Talk ranged from their brewery size (tiny but impressively well-built, beautiful, really) to their energy saving efforts (solar panels on the roof, capturing heat from the brewing process), all while making us feel welcome and unrushed as we drank our excellent beers.

I had the Double IPA, which was a great way to start the trip – it’s a true West-coast style IPA, with tons of hop bitterness backed up by a healthy dose of alcohol and a nice floral character on the aroma. But don’t let me tell you about it: listen to Adam. He’s the Brewer (and a stand-up guy).

Yesterday, I brewed my own version inspired by the Bear Republic one. I considered a few options for getting Chardonnay in the beer:

1. Chardonnay juice added to cooled wort: this is the option I eventually went with. It seemed like the most true to the idea of a hybrid wine/beer. I would have preferred un-concentrated juice, freshly pressed, but I don’t know of a good source for that. Perhaps another time.
2. Bottle of Chardonnay added to fermented beer before bottling. This seemed like a good option, as I could have a high degree of control in the blending, but it seemed a bit like cheating.
3. Age beer on Chardonnay-soaked oak chips. I’ve tried this successfully with Maker’s Mark Whiskey before in my “Bourbon Spice Mystery Ale,” and been pleased with the results, if not the timeline. To retain the source flavor (whiskey), the chips need to be soaked a long time, perhaps 2 months or more. Didn’t have that much time this time.
4. Adding a bottle of non-alcoholic Chardonnay to wort before fermenting. I don’t know enough about how NA wine is made to know if there is fermentable sugar in there, and wasn’t willing to take the risk of a too-sweet IPA. Perhaps another option if this attempt doesn’t work well.

Here’s the full recipe:

• 2 lbs. 40 L caramel malt
• 1 lb. 80 L caramel malt, steeped with the 40L at 150 degrees F for 30 minutes
• 7 pounds extra-light malt extract added just before boil
• 3/4 oz. Cascade hops, boiled 60 minutes (I thought the citrusy flavor of this hop would pair well with the Chardonnay, and used lightly, adds a “basic” bitter element)
• 3/4 oz. Cascade hops, boiled 15 minutes
• 2 oz. Amarillo hops, boiled 5 minutes (Amarillo is my favorite aroma hop for IPA, with a ton of floral aroma)
• 2 pinches Irish Moss for clarity (don’t see too many cloudy wines)
• 2 pinches Wyeast Yeast Nutrient (since I’d be asking the yeast to do double-duty)
• 1/2 46 oz. can Alexander’s Pinot Chardonnay Extract, added to cooled wort

I pitched Wyeast 1388 Belgian Strong Ale once the wine extract had been mixed into the wort, which I selected based on the manufacturer’s description: “Fruity nose and palate, dry, tart finish.”

I plan on oaking the beer in secondary fermentation with some new American oak chips, for perhaps 2-3 weeks. I don’t want it to be tooooo oak-y, but that would be true to the Chardonnay spirit, so we’ll see.

We enter from the parking lot, through the heavy double doors serving as the main entrance. My first clue that this is an unusual bar comes with the blast of heat cutting through the winter chill, and my heavily-insulated ears detect what sounds like … polka?

I am a native Iowan, composed of equal parts Swedish and German heritage, but of that uniquely American kind that contains not a trace of its original ethnic roots. The closest I ever got to ethnic food as a kid was when we ate pizza. We rarely had bratwurst, let alone spaetzle or some of the other German foods I’ve since come to savor. But I am getting ahead of myself …

The music, which we’ve now confirmed is polka, increases in volume as we near the bar, and it feels as though we’ve walked into a party in full swing. A serious party. There is beer EVERYWHERE … in mugs large and small, in pitchers, and … in boots. Glass boots. BIG glass boots. “I want one.” My genes are tingling.

As we settle into a long table near the musicians, a waitress approaches in full German barmaid costume. “Is this heaven?” Again I feel my heritage stirring. At least I think that’s my heritage.

We pony up for a boot of something alcholic, liquid, golden and German, but we have to fork over an $80 deposit before they’ll leave the container in our raucous trust. Doing some quick calculations, I decide that my checking account is probably up to the challenge, as is my liver. I don’t recall running into “the bubble” encountered in the movie Beer Fest, but things became a little blurry after downing the two liters of alcohol that tradition dictates must not touch the table.

The blurrier things got, the more at home I felt. The accordians! The feathered caps! The beautiful blondes in cleavage-enhancing dirndls! This was my long-lost heritage! I was home!

As bar closing approached, I grew alternately happier and sadder. I loved this place, but I was going to have to leave it, to return who knew when? I began to contemplate a souvenir, something to remind me of my newly-discovered Motherland. As the alcoholic fog set in, boldness descended, and I realized there were souvenirs EVERYWHERE. On the walls, above my head … everywhere I looked there were hundreds, no, THOUSANDS of mugs. Surely they wouldn’t miss one, right? But one mug would be lonely, right? Perhaps one mug might like a friend to keep him company in my cupboard, so far away in Iowa.

I removed two mugs from the wall as surreptitiously as my impaired limbs would allow, tucking one under each arm beneath my heavy winter coat, seemingly designed specifically for this task – I had found my heritage, and my coat had found its special purpose! When my friends were ready, I led the way, striding carefully toward the door just 10 feet, 8 feet, now 6 feet, now BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I hadn’t noticed the retail store-style metal detectors on the way in, but I was aware of them now, as was everyone else in the bar. I rushed out the door as fast as I could, but as my feet reached freedom, my shoulder was slowed by a strong arm trying to keep me in the door. Momentum carried me outside, but I was followed closely by the doorman, who didn’t look happy.

“If this were anything but New Year’s Eve, I would have your ass in jail right now.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

“Give me the mug.”

I carefully removed one of the mugs from beneath my coat, handing it to him sheepishly.

“I never forget a face, and you are NOT welcome back here. If I ever see you here again, I will call the police.”

As he turned his back and re-entered the bar, I spun and took a step in the opposite direction, my heart beating double-time, feeling proud of my apparent misdirection. So smart, so bold, so … CRASH. The remaining mug slipped from under my arm, shattering on the frozen asphalt.

I didn’t think. I ran.

And that was the last time I visited the Essen Haus, until last weekend, when I returned for Brian’s wedding. The doorman wasn’t there (he probably wouldn’t have recognized me anyway given my gray hair), but the atmosphere inside was just as I remembered it. Warm (especially compared to the -8 temperature outside), festive, beery. I came alone, but I felt comfortable sitting among the people at the bar, my people.

The metal detectors were gone, but the mugs were still mostly there. Some careful conversations with the bartender confirmed that more than a few of them have walked out over the years, replaced by new ones. Apparently of the thousands covering the ceilings, very few are used regularly, most purchased decades ago and abandoned like so many good intentions.

The boots are mostly plastic now, though a few glass vessels remain. The deposits have disappeared with the glass, though. On Thursday nights, UW students stream in for $14 2L boots, and they no longer have to check their account balances before sharing their beer-filled footwear with the table. School was out when I visited, so the place was a little slow, but the spirits were still as high as I remembered them, as you can see in this very brief video I shot with my new Mino HD of the house band and bar staff. Prost!

Oh, and by way of restoring my karmic balance sheet, I’ll personally donate $2 to Mercy Corps for every comment this post receives (limit $200). Hopefully that covers the mug. ;)