Three Floyds Rabid Rabbit, tap

Last night I'd really hoped to leave work early enough to watch the Hawks game. Not that I'm such a big hockey fan, though I do like the sport; in fact, it may be the most stressful and mesmerizing for me to watch. It's just not always that I want to be stressed out and mesmerized. Still, showing in public places for the Big Game is one of my few rituals of normalcy, even if it's a put-on half the time, so last night was meant to be one of those occasions.

Instead, I got wrapped up in work and left just in time to hear the start of OT on my car radio, hoping the game would extend long enough to catch the finish in moving pictures. The players ignored my plans, ending the game before I could reach a public place with cable. What can you do. 

Though the game was over and I knew it would have preempted vinyl night at the usual Tuesday destination, I needed a Lunar fix and popped in anyway. Game or no game, vinyl or no vinyl, there is always great beer--and real human faces. These things are important too.

Rabid Rabbit is a saison, a categorical favorite of mine. It's also one of those magical beers that cycles through multiple flavors and aromas as your senses adjust and readjust to every sip. The initial whiff is all peaches and bark, but compared to the average saison, Rabid Rabbit is less sweet, more bitter, and drier to the palate. I prefer this style, but if you like them sweeter, you may be better off with something else. The bitterness is citrusy, lurking behind the other fruity notes--apricots and pears, I think--and cardamom or some similar spice. It also had characteristically hefe banana and Double Bubble notes, and I kept getting a hint of cumin and, weirdly, rice at the finish, which I didn't expect at all. Work my suggestibility enough, and I could probably name dozens more flavors I may or may not have picked up as I drank this.

Grade: M, for metamorphosing. By the time I finished, I felt like I'd had a few different beers. For 9% ABV in such a light-colored beer, it was exceptionally smooth. If you like Belgians without the sugary kick, I would recommend it.

Scotch Ale Twofer: Tyranena Shaggin' in the Wood and Three Floyds Robert the Bruce

Slow Friday nights at bars are terrible for business but awesome for patrons, especially those who are too weary for the logistical hurdles and social pressure of being with "real" friends. Because the bar is overstaffed expecting a big weekend crowd, service is especially fast, and the yahoos keep in line. 

At Brixie's, it also means seeing a (usually) good band performing for a few dozen people--again, bad for business, bad for the band, but enjoyable for me. Last night's band, Shannon the 2 Timers (that's a pair of timers, rather than an indefinite number of two-timers) gets my endorsement. Based on the hour of their set I caught, they're a country cover band that does mostly non-country songs, mostly quite well. "Ballroom Blitz" was a particular highlight.

I also played my first game of pinball--not in my life, but at least in fifteen years. The bar has two machines, but in all the times I'd been there, I'd never felt compelled to play. I don't remember pinball being so great as a kid, and as an adult, I expected it to be boring. But I got talked into a game. I was affirmed in my assumption of boring; add to it a little annoying--lots of waiting for the ball to fall and enough flashing light to put chemically stable brains near seizure.

Shaggin' in the Wood is barrel-aged scotch ale, so it's stronger and sweeter than your typical variety. I thought it had more of a bourbon than a scotch flavor, but that could have been some synesthetic conflation with the country twang in my ears while I drank it. The aroma had that roasty caramel smell and some dark fruits like dates and cherries, which also came out in the sip. The texture was thin but syrupy enough to swish, perfect for the flavor. I'm not a huge scotch ale drinker, but this was one of the best I've ever had. 

Grade: G, for good medicine.

Robert the Bruce is a very different type of scotch ale, so it wasn't redundant to my first beer. Still, as I expected, it was a step down but still very enjoyable. I'd had this beer a few times before but never (I don't think) on tap. Molasses is probably the most prominent note in both the aroma and taste. The hops give a little blueberry on the whiff, along with some general cakiness. The sip finishes more bitter than most scotch ales I've had. Neither of these beers has much of the musty flavor I think of with scotch. 

Grade: B, for borderline-walkable. That is, I could walk away from this beer if I couldn't finish, which I almost did, but I'd rather not.

Great Lakes Burning River, bottle

This week, while my brother and sister-in-law are on vacation in Florida, I've been watching their cats.

Their names are Fluffy and Furball. Just kidding. They're Newman and Vargas, taken from the Seinfeld character and his Bizarro-world counterpart. I've previously chronicled my responsible dog-sitting, but this is my first experience with cats. I thought cat-sitting would be much easier since I don't actually have to do anything, other than bear their presence and scoop the litter box (which, incidentally, feels less demeaning than I expected). And it is easier, from that standpoint. But I'm always concerned--overly concerned maybe--with the comfort and happiness of the animals under my watch. The dogs give me instant feedback; their needs are greater but more obvious. The cats? I can't figure out what--if anything--they need from me. In that sense, their self-sufficiency is disconcerting; I worry that it's concealing some deep emotional need on which I'm utterly failing them, my cat sense undeveloped as it is.

As I type this, in fact, Newman--as he's been doing all week--is purring and weirdly rubbing his body against the side of my monitor, occasionally trying lick or nibble at my fingers. What the heck do you want, cat? I pet him, but, see, I don't even know how cats like to be touched. And now he's sort of digging at the bed under the corner of the laptop. What a weirdo.

When my brother brought the cats over on Sunday, they came with a sixer of Burning River and some homemade strawberry ice cream. I won't lie; the ice cream was probably the bigger score--not that I don't love Burning River, but as a weekday vegan, ice cream is an indulgence I'll rarely afford myself. And the fact that something is homemade not only mitigates the guilt of eating dairy and stuffing my face, it actually gives dairy-eating and face-stuffing a feeling of purpose and righteousness that comes with the gracious acceptance of a gift. And so goes the slippery slope of communal sin.

I think of Burning River as the misunderstood troublemaker--complex, layered, masked by an abrasive exterior, worth the patience to really understand him. If you think this analogy is beneath me or any other self-respecting blogger, you are correct. But I haven't been sleeping much, and that's all I've got right now. What I mean, in slightly more substantive terms, is that Burning River is a hoppy punch of a pale, and that's all it will be if you want. But he's really a slightly sweet, dense pilsner with a bitter exterior, doughy, fruity, and faintly toasted on the swirl... shelled by a layer of hops. The grainy side is like rye; the fruit is not citrusy, the bitterness being more earthy like pine than sour like a grapefruit. Raisin or blueberry is probably closer to it.

Grade: Y, for, you don't understand him like I do. Be patient; get to know him.

Brooklyn Pilsner, bottle

From everything I've ever read about it, Brooklyn is the most rugged, edgy, lively, depressing, poor, wealthy, artistic, soulless, white, black, phony, and authentic place on earth. My impressions may be completely wrong, though; I've never actually been there, and I assume I never will. People like me, i.e. suburbanites, are best off staying away from cities; it's obvious we don't belong and just risk embarrassing ourselves. And I really don't like to embarrass myself.

Whenever I have a beer from such an unattainable place, I expect mysticism. I expect cool factor. I expect it to make me resent my usual cretin swill and want to leave the farm for good. I expect to feel shame.

Brooklyn Pilsner probably falls in the German pilsner category. It's less grainy and more bitter than the popular brands and just a touch sweet (honey). The hops are more green matter than dead matter and some citrusy, which I'd actually place closer to lime than the typical grapefruit notes. The aroma's fine but weak and unimportant; it's a pilsner. The feel is dry as you'd expect. It did finish a little tinny on a few sips, but I wouldn't read too much into this--I'm not sure how clean the glass really was :-/

Grade: L, for lacking mysticism. Off hand, it reminded me a little of Lagunitas Pils but not quite as good. It left me pleased but not ashamed. And really, the price point to buy it here in flyover country is probably too high to be a worthy purchase except to sample it once.

BONUS: While we're on the subject of Brooklyn, via the Infra Blog, here's another happy reminder that our infrastructure--nay, our entire standard of living--is literally crumbling down around us. If you can't get in the mood to drink, this might help:

Breckenridge Vanilla Porter, bottle

In an effort to make better (more better?) use of my time, I decided a while back that I'd only blog about really exceptional beers unless I had a great story to tell along with the beer review. Instead, for no other reason than my fingers feel like typing, tonight I'm reviewing a mediocre beer, drunk by my bedside on a nondescript Tuesday night.

The label on Breckenridge Vanilla Porter says "remarkable" and "partakable" on the front. I'll let you guess which word is a more accurate description. (Hint: it's the word that gets flagged by spell-check.) Snark aside, it's a perfectly ok beer--nothing notable, nothing objectionable, nothing much for me to say.

The vanilla is subtle, though not totally ingrained into the brew. Subtle would also be a pretty good way to describe the rest of the flavor. There's the usual toasty malt and a slightly bitter finish, but mostly, I was wondering if I'm coming down with a cold. It was only fragrant on the initial pour; once the head dissipated, so did the aroma. It was pleasant enough while it lasted--malty, earthy like bark and broccoli, and coffee.

This isn't viscous enough to be porter, but it has the right amount of carbonation. Because of the thin body and low ABV (4.7%), it's not really a sipper--too few tilts of the glass for my liking.

Grade: V, for value-neutral. Partakable really is an apt description. Gotta hand it to the marketing team.

Because we should probably say something about the Goose Island news

Of the two of us MBB bloggers, I'm probably not the person to be commenting on today's big beer story that Anheuser-Busch has acquired Goose Island--mainly that I'm indifferent to the news, both as a consumer and general observer, but I'll share what little I have to say before the story goes stale.

As a beer drinker, I'm not terribly concerned how the acquisition will affect the quality of the product because a) I expect its change to be minimal and b) I don't think much of it to begin with. Yes, some of Goose Island's specialty brews are quite good--in fact, I gave a very positive review of one in my last post--and I suppose it's possible that these will be lost or ruined. But I doubt this very much for reasons I'll mention in a second.

If you're worried about the quality of the flagship brews, you should have already moved onto better beers anyway. I don't say that as a snob but as a friend. I've had worse dishwater wheats than 312, but that's the best I can say; to cop the tired pizza analogy, the IPA is the Papa John's in the heart of Dagoville; and don't get me started on Green Line. For Chicagoans who lament the loss of a local brand, the alternatives are hardly lacking. (With--shill alert!--another on the way.)

But that's all beside the point that $39 million is a whole lotta wort, or yeast, or whatever, and if I had great brand recognition and a so-so product in a market with a swelling pool of competitors, I'd be looking to cash out too. Ironically, craft beer going mainstream is as much Goose Island's doing as it stands to be its undoing the more the palate of the beer-drinking public matures. In the meantime, it's still a nice bridge between A-B's current market and their future.

Anheuser-Busch knows that commercials and stadium contracts can't protect them when taste and choice trump image, as declining sales have already proven. They've seen the trends in food and dining and realize that the only way to survive is to diversify, or at least straddle the hoity toity-hoi polloi divide. A high-profile craft was missing from that portfolio; now they have it. Good for them.

For Goose Island, the timing seems appropriate, with competition creeping up and their microbrew cred bordering on gone. I don't know their motivations, but if ambition means accepting when you've become the establishment, maybe that's what Goose Island's done by selling the brand.

Goose Island Dominique, tap

When I'm this far up in my head, I shouldn't even try to be social. My work, the weather, my sleep, my food supply--not much room for human interaction. Tonight I tried because I thought I needed it. Brixie's is a grounding spot, usually, but I couldn't find the handle. Thoughts wouldn't form words; I spoke out of turn; I stared; I didn't even notice I was biting my nails until I started to make them bleed and had to stick my hand up in my undershirt because blood's not a great palate cleanser. I don't think the staff or regulars noticed. The last thing I want to do at a bar is seem drunk or sinister because I'm neither. But what can you do--at least I got out.

Dominique is a Belgian sour, a slow-sipper that doesn't taste very Belgian and only a little sour. The aroma is oaky with some fruit--cherries or cranberries. It reminded me of the Frank's Nursery and Crafts I worked at in high school--fake flowers and wicker baskets. The taste was similar but with a bourbon kick. The tart, cherry notes stick out; maybe some apple too and a vague hint of celery or turnip. It's mildly sweet but boozy first, bitter second. It's 8.5% ABV but tastes like more--surprisingly not a bad thing. The twelve ounces lasted a good eighty minutes; I bet I tilted the glass twenty-five times by the time I was done, but that's probably an exaggeration.

Grade: G, for gripping. You won't let Dominique get too far out of sight once it's in front of you, and it'll stand out after the fact. Drink this on its own when you have plenty of time. Calmly. Never when you're anxious. Trust me; it's pretty good.

Great Divide Hibernation Ale, bottle

Sometimes you wanna go where.... well, you know. But this week I just wanna hide out. Light and noise sensitivity are high, and I'm certain that my own thoughts are more interesting than whatever they're talking about at the bar right now. 

This is what the fridge stash is for, and tonight's lucky chosen one is Hibernation Ale--if properly branded, a perfect beer for a recluse on a cold night.

Great Divide is an underrated brewery, which is to say that I don't hear it talked about much here. I consider it the Colorado analogue to Sierra Nevada, and I promise that I drew the mental comparison well before the mountain thing occurred to me. What I mean is that they each brew many different styles--common styles, traditional styles--and do them all quite well, albeit at the expense of inventiveness. It's an approach I loathe in music, but I don't mind it with beer.

Having said that, Hibernation is a mess. But don't take it from me; take it from the snobs on Beer Advocate who give it... an A-minus?! I usually believe in the wisdom of crowds, and 824 reviewers can't be wrong, except this time, because they are. 

Well, no, maybe I was just looking for something different. But when I think "hibernation," I don't think double-IPA, which is almost what I'd consider this. Yes, it has a creamy head and some subtle toastiness to it, but it's bitter and citrusy as any I'll-be-damned-if-this-isn't-Stone west-coast hopped-out bullshit. What the fuck, Denver? I don't know a ton about bears, but if this is what hibernation tastes like, my tongue is on its own circadian cycle.

I'll admit that it holds the 8.7% ABV remarkably well, and the hops are deliciously aromatic, if overpowering to the taste. But seriously, this is supposed to be a winter beer? I think with the moderate temperatures and the year-round snow they get out there, those Denver folk don't really know their seasons apart. Just a hunch.

Grade: M, for misleading. I wanted to sleep tonight. Hibernation has nothing to do with this beer. In fact, it's one of the more stimulating beers I've ever had. Like Bengay. Now I'm wide awake, and I can't even finish this. Extra nutmeg in the bedtime oatmeal tonight! Thanks for nuthin', Great Divide.

Southern Tier Imperial Oat, tap

A month or two ago, John, one of the bartenders at Lunar, decided to start a new weekly draw, "Vinyrial Tuesday," in which patrons are encouraged to bring in their vinyl records, and we take turns playing album sides. So far it's been a bonanza, as the previously nondescript slow weeknight has given way to a full bar each week.

There's a group of younger guys that usually bring in new stuff I've never heard of while I'm left to wonder whether the '70s and '80s shit I nabbed at Value Village in college will be cool with them. But tonight--Christmas vinyl night--my collection was king. It starts and ends with the most unintentional and hilarious unintentionally hilarious album cover I've ever known:

This one never made it on the turntable tonight, but Goulet's "Do You Hear What I Hear?" is honestly beautiful:



We did listen to Christmas with Chet Atkins, which is beautiful in its own right. If The Beverly Hillbillies ever had a Christmas episode, this should have been the soundtrack.

The real prize of my collection is the New Kids on the Block's Merry Merry Christmas, featuring the signature hit "Funky Funky Christmas," which brought John and a few other folks to dancing:



For good measure, here's a live version from Arsenio:



While things got funky, I was sipping Southern Tier Imperial Oat, an impressive imperial stout that let me calm my stomach with a few quick sips while leaving enough of a challenge to slow-sip my way through the next hour. It's intended to be served in a nine-ounce glass, but I'm pretty certain John gave me twelve. No harm--it's good enough to be interesting for the full serving.

There isn't anything terribly unique about this beer, but it should satisfy expectations for an imperial stout--viscous, thick head, flavorful malts, slightly sweet, boozy finish. The aroma was pretty typical for what I've come to expect from an imperial stout--some coffee, musty basement, and chocolate. The flavor was smoky with a bit of dark fruit like cherry or raspberry, and bourbon at the finish. I don't know how many tilts this took me to finish, but if you don't lose count, you're probably drinking it too fast.

Grade: H, for hearty. Very rich, very flavorful--the kind of beer you can chew. You may not discover anything you didn't already know by drinking this beer, but you'll be satisfied if you're craving a good imperial stout.

Sprecher Dopple Bock, bottle, poured into mug

Rolling along with the dopplebock theme, tonight's offering comes from the suburbs of that other great Wisconsin city. And while I'd love to say the Milwaukee-area product beats out Madison's, Sprecher Dopple Bock just doesn't measure up to the Capital Imperial.

That's a shame because the bottle's been enticing me every time I open the fridge for the last few weeks. I mean, for starters, it's a fat pint, which bellows "drink me" louder than any other container I can think of. Also, I love the Sprecher labels:

This one features a great description on the neck label:

This dark, rich, and mildly sweet lager was originally brewed as liquid bread to sustain Bavarian monks during Lent.

Who says Catholicism isn't great?

The pour gets you in the mood for sure. It's darker, creamier, and more viscous than I'm used to in a bock, and the aroma is very pleasant--molasses and prunes or dates, mostly, and maybe just a little chocolate. The malt isn't as strong as most bocks, I don't think.

The taste didn't quite do it for me, and, well, that being the most important part, the brew overall was a mild letdown. My complaint is the same one I've had with other bocks--too syrupy and boozy up front and not enough earth to temper the sweet. It took four or five sips for the sweetness to dull, and even then, this tastes a little too boozy for a dark, thick beer that's only 7.9% ABV. The Capital held it's 9% much better, as I recall.

Truth be told, the Sprecher gets better midway once you acclimate the sugary punch. The date flavor dominates, but my favorite part is the finish, which is a little bitter and vaguely smoky.

Grade: C, for comforting. It's not the greatest beer, but it's a slow sipper with nice after-hours flavors that make it easy enough to drink. Still, it's potent enough to remind you that you're getting buzzed as it goes down, which isn't a bad thing as long as you're in the mood. For as much as the pint bottle excited my former booze hound, I'd rather drink it in two sittings if I were to have it again.

Capital Imperial Dopplebock, bottle, poured into mug

I now interrupt this long hiatus to bring you a beer review.

In my last post, just over a month ago, I mentioned my beer "allergy" and my doctor's recommendation to abstain for three months. If you interpret my inactivity as following that advice, you would be wrong. I've cut back a little--no second pints and the occasional beerless night--but that's as far as I'll go.

That said, I have a very important professional exam at the end of this month--I'll let you guess which one--so my time has been at a premium, relatively speaking. That doesn't mean I'm spending every free moment studying--that would be an awful way to live--but it has made me less willing to stay up that extra half-hour after leaving the bar to tell my banal anecdotes (and perhaps mention something about the beer I drank).

But tonight, insomnia reigns. Sixteen hours in the office wasn't enough to wear out my conscious brain, but maybe this Imperial Dopplebock can finish the job. Either way, I'm having a delightful time drinking it.

Have I mentioned that great cold-weather beers come from cold-weather states? Yes, all the time. Capital makes me reconsider my declaration of bocks being my least favorite beer style because right now, that simply isn't true.

This is a perfect fall beer, smelling of dates or figs, wood chips, and something vegetable--either carrot or broccoli. As you'd expect, the malt is the predominant flavor, which is just the right amount of sweet--again, dates and maybe a little honey. The sip finishes a little smokey--more like a cigarette than a barbecue.

The taste is thick to match the texture, and I'm surprised this is 9% ABV. I'd guess 7.5% if the label didn't tell. For best results, drink this outside on a fall night, where the air will keep the beer cold, and the booze will keep you warm. Just a half-ounce per sip, and swish it around thoroughly.

Grade: W, for woodsy. I first tried this beer last month up in the woods of northern Wisconsin, and it felt like the perfect beer for the setting. But I can confirm that it's still excellent if you're lying around your bedroom in your boxers.

Sprecher Black Bavarian, bottle, poured into inappropriate glassware

This morning I received the unfortunate and somewhat bewildering news that I'm allergic to brewer's yeast. Of course, this diagnosis--I mean, opinion--begs two very important questions:

1) How reliable is this testing method, anyway? Surely it must be totally, horribly wrong.

2) If I really am allergic to brewer's yeast, what constitutes a food allergy? I drink beer on a daily basis and have never so much as broken out in hives from drinking beer.

Whatever the case, my doctor told me to avoid beer for three months--a most disheartening prescription. Still depressed tonight, I decided I needed a beer.

I always say, if you want good cold-weather beers, start with a place that actually has cold weather. And, as I also say, if you want good German-style craft beers, start in Wisconsin. Black Bavarian? Check and check.

Black Bavarian pours with a high, fairly creamy head that smells of molasses, malt, dried figs, raisins, and a little whiff of chocolate. The taste generally matches the aroma, with the malt and molasses most prominent and some bitter stale coffee on the back end. The feel is more foamy than I'd hoped but still appropriate for a dark German, and at 6.0% ABV, there isn't the slightest taste of booze. You can enjoy this as a slow sipper if you're feeling dainty, but you can just as easily take it down in swishy two-ounce gulps if you're a burly German dude.

Grade: H, for hearty. It has a strong body but isn't heavy or overly dense. The molasses and dry fruit flavors make this a good desert beer, but it would make just as a good a mid-afternoon beer or complement to a blandly spiced meal with bitter vegetables. Black Bavarian is a Wisconsin German-style beer that holds up the conventional wisdom.

Southern Tier Creme Brulee, tap, served in goblet

I hadn't heard of this beer until last week when Zuch mentioned its polarizing effect on the beer geek set, and whatdyaknow, it shows up on the menu at my favorite spot this week.

I ordered it out of curiosity, expecting to hate it. I generally don't like sweet beers, yet I find a few downright delicious. The Creme Brulee being an imperial stout, I thought it might have enough body and booze to balance the sweet, or at least let me sip slowly enough to let it dissipate.

What is it they say about pessimism? You're either right or pleasantly surprised, I think. Well consider me the latter. Nine times out of ten I wouldn't order this beer, but on that one time, I'll be very pleased.

The aroma is fantastic--butter, caramel, and coffee. The taste pretty well mimics the smell but more malty and nutty, and there's a strong vanilla flavor that doesn't jump out on the whiff. You may be tricked to think you're drinking cold, carbonated coffee with Frangelico and International Delight French vanilla creamer, except without the cobbled-together taste of a desert cocktail.

The taste is robust enough to balance the sweetness, and the Creme Brulee soaks in its 9.2% ABV better than some 6% ABV beers I've had, which is to say that it goes down pretty easy. It's good as a slow sipper, but there's nothing stopping you from taking down an ounce or more on a single swig.

Grade: D, for delightful... internationally. Really, though, I would consider this a successful experiment. If it won me over, I'm pretty sure anyone would like it. I'll admit that by the end of the 12-ounce goblet, I was starting to get a little tired of it, as I will with anything that sweet. I think six or eight ounces would be plenty, but I could just as quickly find someone to put down three of these.

Catching Up on Things

For those that had three and half weeks on the over-under of when I'd get lazy and stop posting, you may now collect your winnings.  I may have a legit excuse for my neglect soon should I pass my writing test for a freelance position this week, but in the meantime here are a few assorted thoughts on beers consumed the past couple of weeks.

Sort of disagree with Vinnie's assessment on Stone 14th Anniversary IPA as I thought the booze was masked well by a surprisingly fruity body.  I prepared myself for the expected inundation of hops only to be surprisingly greeted by the tasty, subtly sweet flavors of this English style IPA (and props to Stone for hitting this style and not force feeding the hop characteristic).

Shame that the Onion Pub and Brewery, makers of the Wild Onion Pumpkin fall seasonal, is located off the beaten path (at least for this lazy non-driver) in Lake Barrington, Illinois.   Loved my first 2010 foray into fall beers and enjoyed this pumpkin beer that packed a ton of flavor without being pumpkin pie with alcohol.

On my scale of brown beers, Avery's Ellie Brown beats out Sierra Nevada Tumbler due to the chocolate and toffee flavors that complemented a well crafted body.  Tumbler grew on me as I sipped it, but I like my brown ales to have sweeter notes (I normally drink them towards the end of my sessions).

My second go-round with Left Hand's Milk Stout gave me a greater appreciation for this brew and I better grasped the style of the sweet stout.  It does not pack quite the punch to that of Dragon's Milk, but its much kinder ABV (5.2% to 9.0% of Dragon's Milk) allows you to possibly go another couple of rounds should you feel like it.

Come on Chicagoland distributors, convince the fine people at New Glarus that a second go-round in this market will be worthwhile for them.  The passion in Dancing Man Wheat and Moon Man is uniquely Wisconsin and us lesser folk in Chicago need some of that TLC to deal with the evils of city life.

Two Brothers Resistance IPA was an awesome find and made our maiden voyage to their Tap House totally worthwhile (even if I ate enough loaded cheese fries for four meals and ravaged my stomach in the process).

Finally, if you enjoy these ramblings, cheer me on to do stupid crap like pull a neck muscle while sneezing, as tonight's imbibing of fine beers motivated me to return home here and leave MBB with at least one more contribution during its brief existence.

Stone 14th Anniversary Emperial IPA, tap, snifter

Last night Brixie's was unusually dead for a Wednesday, which was perfect since I was feeling unusually cerebral and looking unusually slobbish. All I really wanted was a beer, and as a bonus, I got to trade apocalyptic prognostications with Bruce the bartender, who only had six other people to wait on.

I'd come specifically for the Stone Emperial; after stealing a sip of Zuch's on Saturday, I'd been anxious to try a full one.

One of my first reactions both then and last night was "gin martini." Both the first whiff and taste are distinctly piny, and the bitterness and high (9%) ABV share something in common with vermouth. The smell is also musty like an old book, and the taste is mildly sweet and--dare I say--plasticky, almost like peppercorn. Though bitter, the hop flavor is more the pine and herb (think sage or tarragon) variety, not citrusy.

Grade: C, for cocktail. Make no mistake--it's bitter and boozy but not necessarily in the way you'd expect. It drinks more like a strong cocktail than a beer. The twelve-ounce snifter took me a solid hour and upwards of twenty tilts to finish. You can't rush this one. It wouldn't be my first choice to repeat, but I'm glad I tried it the once.

New Glarus Dancing Man Wheat, bottle, poured into pint glass

A staple to our Wisconsin friends, New Glarus doesn't ship to Chicago. This is especially painful for Zuch, who can buy almost any beer his heart desires at the local Binny's--just not his favorite one. Fortunately, I was passing through Madison a few weeks back and picked us up some Dancing Man at the local Woodman's.

Tonight I finally got my first taste, and I can now declare it MBB consensus: This shit's fantastic.

The foam explodes from the bottom of the glass on the pour, so this is one of those rare instances I'd stress appropriate glassware--a 23-ounce weizen glass--or else be very careful to pour it slowly. The first six ounces might be enough to overtop a pint glass with the foam.

The aroma is typical for a hefeweizen--ripe banana first, clove second, and also some lilac, I think. On the taste, the order reverses--clove comes first, then banana, with bubblegum up near the top. It finishes with a little bitterness--more vegetable than citrus--similar to a turnip. Once the sip goes down the throat, your mouth tastes like you just took a nip off the bottle of vanilla extract. If you're a liqueur drinker, Dancing Man might remind you of Galliano. For best results, sip generously at the middle of your tongue, and swish it back in symmetry.

If this beer could be brewed at a slightly lower ABV--maybe 6.5ish% as opposed to its 7.2%--without compromising any of the flavor, I would consider it perfect. I could taste the alcohol a little more than I'd have liked, especially on the first two sips. Otherwise, I have no complaint.

Grade: S, for soothing. It's like a massage or a warm bath or a prescription sedative. Delicious, light, easy to drink, and just enough alcohol to put you in a happy place. Make that two enthusiastic thumbs up from this blog.

Bulleted Weekend Recap Rundown Thingy

A busy weekend of many beers and no time to blog means a bunch of cut-rate Monday night reviews. More thorough reviews may follow in subsequent posts.

• Lakefront Oktoberfest. I brought a sixer of bottles to a birthday party Friday night and went through three, I think. This was the first Lakefront beer I've had in a really long time, and it was somewhere between mediocre and average. It's caramel sweet, malty, and toasty--not unlike a roasted marshmallow--with an apple note.
• Founders Centennial IPA. I drank this one straight from the bottle, which I feel negates whatever I have to say about a beer. That said, my general impression was positive but underwhelming. There was nothing to really set it apart from dozens of other IPAs, and at 7.2% ABV, I wouldn't have expected it to taste as boozy as it did.
• Three Floyds Gorch Fock. This was from the tap at Brixie's. On the surface, it's a pretty typical light lager, but the flavor was dense and accented with a bit of honey sweetness that I didn't expect. For such a light beer (4.5% AVB), I was able to enjoy this much more slowly than I expected--a big plus, being the good D.D. that I am. If you have a chance, try some while it's still hot out.
• Stone Levitation Ale. I'd had Levitation once before, but I had no idea it was an amber until Zuch told me, at which point I still didn't believe him. This is by far the hoppiest amber I've ever tried. Word to the unindoctrinated: Stone loves the hops. It's also one of the slowest drinking sub-5% AVB beers I can think of, mainly because the hops are so intense. Despite my pathological aversion to waste, I had to leave some of this behind because my semi-starved 3am stomach couldn't quite handle it.
• Goose Island Green Line Pale. I tried this again on tap, this time at the actual Goose Island pub across from Wrigley Field, so it was almost certainly fresh. It still tasted like corn. I still didn't like it. Fuck it. It's out.

Bridgeport Hop Czar, tap, poured into super cool Hop Czar logo glassware

Tonight I had to deliver some tickets for tomorrow's Cubs game to my friend Mike, who lives in Burr Ridge. I could have just as easily--no, much more easily--mailed them to him three days ago, but the hand delivery gave me an excuse to say hi to Mike. That, and Brixie's is on the way back from his house. And who trusts the postal service anyway, am I right? Tonight was a worthwhile trip. I made a couple bar friends--a fireman and a hair stylist--and also a pretty satisfying beer choice.

Usually when a beer has the name Hop [superlative/animal], I get a bit leery. My experience is that these tend to be the one-dimensional hop bombs--to steal a term from Zuch--that don't distinguish well from one another. But Bridgeport, an Oregon brewer, is new to the area, and I'm a sucker for the chance to try new things before everyone else.

As the name implies, Hop Czar is a double-IPA, but it wasn't at all the hop bomb I'd feared it would be. If anything, I'd say it's maltier than it is hoppy. Of course, it could very well be that I've been on such an IPA kick--'tis the season--that I've desensitized myself to the hops.

The aroma has a strong floral scent with a little citrus, but it's also quite musty. It's the first beer I've ever had that smells like both real flowers and fake flowers at once. It drinks pretty nicely for the 7.5% ABV, starting out syrupy sweet and malty and finishing piny and bitter. Brixie's serves it in a 12-ounce glass, but I don't think it would be a stretch to have a full pint. That said, it is a slow-sipper if you really want each tilt of the glass to count--no more than an ounce per.

Grade: D, for deceptively branded, and I mean that in a good way. I wouldn't make special trips to Oregon for it, but now that it's here, I would gladly drink it again.

Favorite Wheat Beers

A good summer style, wheat based beers like Hefeweizens and pale wheat ales fit nicely in the middle of a good session (especially in warmer weather).  Also, this style is a very palatable for those beer drinkers that do not lust over hops and just want a flavorful, yet drinkable beer.  Without further adieu, a few of my favorite wheat beers.

New Glarus Dancing Man Wheat (7.2% ABV)

It Dances In Your Mouth

Dancing Man has the highest alcohol content among my recommendations, but that does not deter you from enjoying the awesome flavors integrated in my favorite New Glarus brew (just a sign to not drink too many in one sitting, especially if you are driving). I love the cinnamon notes prevalent at first taste, with a solid body backing up the initial spice flavors.  Illinois readers, make the trek up 94 and hit the Woodman's in Kenosha while this summer seasonal remains in stock.  Wisconsin readers, you have been depriving yourself if you have yet to pick up this perfect summer beer.  This beer has an A rating among my fellow hop heads at Beer Advocate without possessing a major hop presence.

Bell's Oberon (5.8% ABV)

Great Summer Beer, Readily Available

Not consuming it at every bar I see it at this summer (and trying to avoid bars where this is the only option or one of a precious few good options), I have grown to enjoy Oberon again.  For me, Oberon is the perfect ballpark beer, meant to be enjoyed outside during warmer weather.  A smooth drinker that leans more towards the pale ale side, Oberon has a balanced wheat taste blended with subtle citrus notes.  A good gatekeeper beer for those initially getting into craft brews, Oberon maintains its quality even with its greatly increased market penetration in the Midwest.

Summit Hefe Weizen (4.9% ABV)

Highly Recommended On Tap

One heads up, I much preferred this beer on tap and you will likely only see this on tap at places that focus on craft beers (at least for the non-Minnesota readers of the blog).  However, you can enjoy this out of the bottle, especially for the purposes of just having a beer or two and not participating in an all-out session.  A standard hefeweizen with citrus notes combining with a solid wheat body, this is another good beer in a line of consistently solid Summit offerings (and Summit is often one of the most affordable craft beers at $6-$8 per six pack).

Sierra Nevada Kellerweis Hefeweizen (4.8% ABV)

Another Great Sierra Nevada Offering

I definitely missed out on enjoying Kellerweis this summer as this is probably my second favorite wheat beer (next to Dancing Man).  I love the lemon flavor that immediately jumps to the surface, backed up by a balanced body that makes each sip consistently delicious.  Somewhere I will find and enjoy this on-tap, but in the meantime I should make a point to pick up a bottle or six when I need to re-stock my fridge.

Three Floyds Drunk Monk Hefeweizen (5.5% ABV)

A Great Find

A "tame" offering from my favorite Munster, IN crazy brewers, Drunk Monk is an excellent hefeweizen and I would love it if Three Floyds decided to bottle this during the spring or summer.  A nice combination of citrus and wheat flavors, this is definitely a beer that can be here the next minute, gone the next without much thought. There is no single dominant flavor that jumps to the surface (like cinnamon for Dancing Man and lemon for Kellerweis), but the balance of the brew is outstanding and for me this is the true Three Floyds summer beer.  This is the easily the hardest one of the group to find (it's tap only and distributed only to the best of beer bars), but should be celebrated if you can find it.

Honorable Mention

It's probably not for everyone, but Left Coast's Tangerine Wheat was a nice change of pace for me.  The tangerine power is very prevalent (some may say overpowering), but it went down very smoothly and works well as a change of pace from heavier beers.

I loved Founders Dumbohead (aka Founders Festival Wheat) during a small sampling of it, but it was a rare release that is not even a regular among Founders brewpub line-up.  Thought to be created as an homage to Gumballhead, it is much superior to its namesake.

I hope that New Glarus's Black Wheat re-enters their line-up at some point, as that was a fun and different beer and I would like to enjoy a pint size offering of this (just had a small sample like Dumbohead).

Grumpy Bulldog threefer: Great Lakes Lake Eerie Monster, Stone Ruination, and Goose Island Green Line

This weekend my friend Pat is moving one vertical mile and about a thousand planar miles to Denver. So on Saturday night, Pat's brother Randy and I sent him off by getting good and wasted in downtown Naperville. Well, at least they got good and wasted; it was past midnight by the time I joined them, and Pat and Randy had about a seven-beer head start.

Owing to my visceral distaste for Naperville, I'd never experienced the downtown bar scene, which reminded me a lot of my visits to U of Iowa in college. I'm too old for most of the bars there, but we drank at the Grumpy Bulldog, a hole-in-the-wall with a great beer selection and "Dames" posted on the door of the women's bathroom.

I like my IPAs regaluhr-like just fine. The imperial style doesn't seem necessary to me, but I can't be a True Beer Snob, I'm told, until I've tried them all. I'll say this: Lake Eerie Monster smells fantastic. Besides the hops, it has a strong aroma of passion fruit or mango or some other "exotic" fruit that reminds me of a Naked smoothie drink. By comparison, the taste was dreadful, which is to say, mediocre compared to mediocre things. Way too sweet, way too boozy. It was hard to get past that to see it's inner-beauty, which I think it may possess; I just didn't get it.

Grade: H, for huuuuuge disappointment. I never thought I would dislike a Great Lakes beer, but after a few swigs, I just wanted it to end so I could get onto my next. Finishing it was a chore, even passing some off on Pat and Randy.

Stone Ruination is what I should have ordered for my first pint; fortunately Randy was kind enough to let me sample his. "Earthy" is the magic word here. It has a wet garden aroma--dirt, flowers, evergreens, birdbath (sure, why not)--and the flavor is all earthy hops, i.e. the kind that taste like good weed. (Don't even try to act like you don't know what I'm talking about.) I got almost no sweetness except maybe subtle grapefruit note. That said, I did only have the one swig after drinking Eerie Monster, so my palate may not have been all that sharp.

Grade: I, for incomplete, or alternately, for I-need-to-try-a-full-one. This is on the grocery list for my next trip to Famous.

Green Line was also a disappointment, but it was also my mistake to have pale ales back-to-back--something I rarely do and strongly advise against. The Green Line was pretty balanced and easy to drink, but the only thing I found unique about it was a buttery caramel corn-like flavor that I thought clashed with the hoppiness. Maybe this was tongue or brain playing tricks on me, or maybe my palate was hopped out at that point. But after a few sips, this corny note became so distracting that I really can't remember anything else about it.

Grade: C, for confusing. I'm not sure if the beer was the problem, or if I was the problem. Either way, I'm in no rush to try this again, though I probably should because I don't think I'm being very objective. Zuch had a much more favorable opinion of it.