Stick a (pitch) Fork In It

Devilish Hypocrisy

Well, I’d intended to make my next post about the results of the Beer Rant 2009 Gimmick Poll, however local news has come up and I think it warrants a mention, in lieu of my goofy, gimmick poll.

In the last week or so, I’ve followed (somewhat) a local story involving San Tan Brewing in the southeast valley. Seems brewpub owner Anthony Canecchia has been told by Arizona State University that he must stop using the name “Sun Devil Ale” to promote one of his fermented concoctions. (Don’t bother with my weak explanation of the back-story; you can see the East Valley Tribune article here.)

Disclaimer: I’m a graduate of ASU and a lifetime alumni member, but I’m no fan of ASU and I’ll tell you why. Everything that I ever got from ASU that was worth a darned, I earned with the dollars from a monthly GI Bill check and the sweat of my brow, wrung out over the pages of a stack of liberal arts textbooks. In return for my studies and an effort that earned the words Summa Cum Laude on my diploma, all I’ve ever gotten from ASU is a continual stream of what I call “mooch letters” asking me to upgrade my alumni status or asking me to donate to put other folks through school. In response, I say: I’m perfectly dissatisfied with the level of my alumni membership and don’t wish to “upgrade.” And as for others seeking to plumb my pockets to make their tuition payments, I say, “join the Army.” (So there’s your disclaimer. Even as an alumnus, I’m no fan of ASU.) Naturally, I rather admired the plucky determination of the small brewer in the face of the academic mafia.

Imagine my shock and dismay when I received in the mail today a tri-fold flyer touting the latest “alumni advantages” and upon opening it, I spied an article inviting me to a launch party for “Devil’s Pitchfork Pale Ale” at Four Peaks Brewery (find the link to their brewery yourself).

Okay. So it’s not alright for a brewer in the southeast valley to put out a beer called Sun Devil Ale,” but it’s okay for a brewer in Tempe to put out a beer called “Devil’s Pitchfork Pale Ale.”

Hmmm. This casts some of the gimmick poll questions in a new light. I smell boycott here folks. Granted, I’m not a big customer of Four Peaks but I have purchased their product in the last year, and I even shipped some to an out-of-state aficionado, bent on sampling some of their IPA. Will I refrain from patronizing Four Peaks now, in light of what ASU and the Alumni Association seem to be doing to Anthony Canecchia, a rival brewer? I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not going to sign up to be one of the select few ASU alumnus who get to sample Devils’ Pitchfork Hypocrisy Ale at the launch party and I’ll be buying San Tan Brewing products before I bother with anything from Four Peaks.

We in the beer blogging world thump our chests and spout off about supporting the little guy and tell everyone to “drink local.” What do you do when one of the local brewers is using the might of an entrenched academic mafia to stomp on the efforts of another local brewer?

And what of Mr. Canecchia? Looks as though he knows hypocrisy when he sees it, too. Here’s the latest on his fight, in light of the announcement about Four Peaks Devils’ Hypocrisy Ale. Looks like news of the launch party has already reached San Tan Brewing.

I wonder if there would be trouble if I showed up at the launch party wearing a San Tan Brewing shirt.

I'll get back to you with something on the Gimmick Poll later. I'm spent.

Hot Weather Ramblings

We had some fun at my nephew’s birthday party yesterday – he’s only a couple years younger than me, but he’s seen a lot more, I’ll wager. For the fun of it, I picked up some Boulder Brewing Never Summer Ale and some Deschutes Inversion IPA. Given that the room was filled with a bunch of displaced Coloradoans, I’m not surprised that the Never Summer Ale went over a bit bigger. Nevertheless, I’m left with a couple and I’m tossing them back as I jot this post.

I am surprised to see this is their version of a winter seasonal…wha’? It’s really good and I think I’ve blogged it before so I won’t go much into it except to say it’s malty, tastes like bread and finishes dry.

I just like the name – Never Summer Ale – because it conjures up images of a past life spent in Colorado, and a failed attempt at a second life there after military service. You can’t go back folks. But you can pine away, living off the false recollection of what a place was and will never be again. What I do know is that it’s hotter than hell here at Beer Rant HQ and it’s significantly cooler up in the high country in a little place called Clear Creek County, Colorado.

On the other hand, come December, some place with a name like “Winterhaven” will seem awfully nice, too. It brings to mind something that a very wise fellow told me when I was in the army: “As a rule, man’s a fool. When it’s hot, he wants it not, when it’s not, he wants it hot.” (That guy rose to the rank of major general. I think he’s pretty smart.)

Cut ‘em Some Slack
I think we give the macro brewers too much grief – they probably don’t notice anyway – but we’re a bit hypocritical when it comes to the standards we set for the Miller/Coors/Bud conglomerates versus what we let some of the small fry get away with. Budweiser was excoriated for calling one of their beers “drinkable” in a recent ad campaign. Well, since the advent of that little goof, and the resulting web explosion, I’ve begun paying more attention to what the so-called micro-and craft-brewers are printing on their labels. I see the same sort of inane glittering generalities on labels from craft brewers as well, including the likes of Dogfish Head, too, folks. They characterize their Indian Brown Ale as “clean,” which I take to mean it’s not brewed with water taken from the Ganges River. (C’mon folks. If we’re going to set a standard, let’s have it apply to everyone or just drop it.)

The Dating Game
Speaking of labels: the last issue of Beer magazine had a rather inept article explaining how to read a beer label. (Thank heaven those nice folks at Coors have come up with those temperature sensitive labels so we know when our beer is cold, and thank heaven for the editors of Beer magazine, who will help us decipher the mysterious world of beer labels.) One of the label characteristics covered in the piece was date stamping or freshness dating. Well, again, I’ve begun paying more attention to beer labels lately and I have to say that freshness dates only work if you (meaning the brewers) actually use them. I recently encountered a label (Lost Coast Brewing Raspberry Brown Ale) whereon none of the months of manufacture were “notched.” What am I to take this to mean? It’s a bit like buying a new car battery and not punching the month and year of sale. (Grease monkeys will know what I’m talking about.) Bottom line: Freshness dating is a joke, in both the macro and micro brewing worlds. If consistency isn’t the be all, end all of brewing and beer drinking, then why the hell do we even care when a beer was “born”? Likewise, if we’re going to have a dating system, then let’s stick to it.

Gosh. I didn’t really intend to go all Beer Jerk in this post. I’m really just cranky because of the heat. All the Never Summer Ale is gone. I’ve had a Deschutes Inversion IPA and a Michelob something-or-other and I’m feeling a little better now.

Happy Birthday Dane!

Beer Magazine: An Amateur’s Appraisal

I’m sort of in the market for a decent beer-related periodical. I want a decent value for my buck and I’m hoping to find something that I’ll enjoy reading – if not cover-to-cover, then nearly cover-to-cover. I pick up the odd copy of beer magazines when I see them. I’ve got the March 2009 issue of All About Beer and the July-August 2008 issue of Draft.

More recently, I picked up the July-August issue of Beer. This is actually my second copy of Beer magazine; I have the September-October 2008 issue sitting on the shelf, too. There may be a couple reasons why I’ve got two issues of Beer when I’ve only got one each of the others: Beer is more widely available and their magazines always sport some hot chick on the cover. (Yeah, I notice these things.)

But frankly, I’m still trying to decide where to send my subscription money and that’s a conversation for another time. Perhaps when I finally decide, I’ll make a post that spells out the reasoning behind my choice.

Meantime, I’d like to touch briefly on the good and the bad in the current issue of Beer magazine. No question, Beer magazine is aimed at a younger demographic that mine. The text is full of references to testicles, tits, and farts. The article format is an odd hybrid of the old USA Today, block section, microwave-cooking style aimed at busy folks with short attention spans. Okay, that’s fine. I’ve got a short attention span but as I’m getting older, I find that an organized, coherent format is always reassuring.

In the current (July-August) issue, I especially liked the Beer Anatomy segment dealing with Rauchbiers, that smoky style of beer that reportedly originated in Bamburg, Germany, centuries ago. I’ve enjoyed every smoked beer I’ve tried so far but my list is fairly short (Aecht Schlenkerla, Alaskan Smoked Porter and Stone Smoked Porter come to mind and the only three I remember trying to date). This article was informative, with really good tips on serving temperatures as well as terrific background on the variations of smoked beers. Noticeably absent from their list of common smoked beers was Alaskan Smoked Porter. I’d be curious to know if a brewer’s advertising history has anything to do with their odds of appearing on such a list.

Other highlights: I always enjoy the advertising because it gives me a notion of what to expect in the way of coming attractions. I really like the Taste Test section because, in addition to rating beers, they’ve gone the extra mile and included maps indicating what beers are available in what states. I like the beer models, too.

Now the downside. (Where I go all Beer Jerk.) I’m not a writer so I’m probably the least qualified person to be giving writing tips or criticisms. On the other hand, I am an experienced reader, which should qualify me to point out pointless dreck when I read it. The article entitled “Beer Worth Waiting For” is a hopeless hash of haphazard hooey. The piece is evidently about special release parties that brewers throw to bring out their limited release beers, but it’s too inside baseball to be of any use to me. I’m probably not hip enough to understand some of the references but I think I’m more in the loop listening to an hour of Howard Stern than I was trying to read this nonsensical piece. I’ll just end it there and assume the author was drunk when she wrote the article, the editor was drunk when he accepted the article and that, in order to preserve the natural order of things, I should have been drunk when I read the article.

That’s it folks. You didn’t ask for it, but there it is. Based on style, content and format, I’d have to say that Beer magazine is not high on the list of beer magazines for which I’d pay to have a subscription, but I’ve yet to fully explore the other options. I’m hoping to get something that’s monthly, inexpensive, reasonably educated but not snooty. I’ll keep looking.

The Macros Were Micros Once, Too.

Let’s face it, beer is an acquired taste. I don’t recall anyone remembering their first stolen beer (c’mon, we all stole our first beer) as, “light, refreshing, with a thin but prominent mouth feel,” or “hoppy with a dry finish.” Only after we season a bit and after we start making a living so we can buy our beer do we somehow begin to think ourselves too good for the Coors and Millers of the world. Frankly, we transform into Beer Knerds or Beer Knazis.

I’ve already noted that the takeaway message I got from the documentary Beer Wars was that we all need to support our local craft brewers. The lesson fairly blared from the screen. But much more subtle and perhaps unintended, was the notion that the likes of Coors and Budweiser, Pabst and Miller all started out as microbreweries with one arm tied behind their back as their immigrant founders struggled to establish their place in the market, all the while trying to strangle the competition with the one free arm.

I helped put Miller Brewing where it is today but I rarely drink Miller these days. I was raised just up the road from Coors brewery in Golden, Colorado and they hold a special place in my heart, but again, I don’t buy as much Coors product as I used to. I rarely buy Budweiser because I never cared for Bud products and I think the current raft of Clydesdale horsey ads are stupid. Nevertheless, I do from time to time have the occasional bottle of macro-brewed product, usually because it’s being offered at a party or it comes at a ridiculously low price. I’m just not so proud that I’ll ever say, “I’ll go without before I drink a Coors, or a Miller, or a Bud.” Besides, under certain circumstances, it doesn’t matter what the beer is; even if it's not great, it’s just good enough.

D-Day, June 6, 1944

Perhaps, a beer before parting.

I stuck to a tried and true today. No tasting. No notes. No sniffing the bottle or the glass. I sought out the common. It could have been a Schlitz or a Pabst or a Budweiser, but I chose High Life. All I expect today is that the beer I drink be a beer that some American fighting man would have had on a rainy day in England in June 1944.

We'll never know their kind again and that's sad. What's also sad is that the world has forgotten their sacrifice. Sadder still is that many Americans have forgotten their sacrifice. So, if you, or someone you love, was in a place called Normandy this time in 1944, you have my thanks and prayers.

(It wasn't until after I'd posted this that I realized June 6th was also the first Friday of the month and thus, the day that beer bloggers the world throughout, engage in what has come to be called "the session." All the more reason to be thankful for the sacrifices of D-Day and so many other d-days since: America's fighting men and women sacrificing and dying to defend our right to waste the better part of a day rambling and ranting about beer.)

Buy A Veteran A Beer

We sure do have a lot of award ceremony programs on television these days, don’t you think? We’ve got the Academy Awards, the Grammy Awards, the Country Music Association Awards, the Emmy Awards; the list seems to be endless.

What I’ve never seen on network TV is a military award ceremony. We’d do well to spare a thought to the folks who really keep this country safe and protected, the people who produce something meaningful every day through the sweat of the brow and literally through the blood they shed. More importantly for today, we’d do well to remember the men and women who gave their lives in often unseen, anonymous sacrifice, often far from home so that we could continue to enjoy the benefits of living in this wonderful country of ours.

Placed against the effort and sacrifice of our fighting men and women, sniffing and tasting beer seems a silly pursuit really. Placed against the effort and sacrifice of our fighting men and women, much of what we do here in the country seems silly, but they serve and protect our country to preserve all pursuits, noble and silly.
You may never see a military award ceremony on television. Perhaps you’ll never know the honor and the privilege of serving as part of an honor guard at a military funeral, but each of us can let our veterans know that we care and that their effort is appreciated in ways great and small. If you are able this week, I hope that you’ll buy a beer for a veteran or active duty service member. God Bless Them.

The perfect pour? WTF?

A little something in honor of St. Patrick’s Day.

I rarely read the business section of our local rag, but a big photo of a pint of Guinness on the cover of yesterday’s business section of the Arizona Republic caught my eye and there I was, rooting my way through the stock pages and the futures forecasts to find the article.

The article touted “the science of the perfect pour” and revealed that the barkeeps at a local pub have received tutoring from Guinness’ national quality control staff. I’m a bit too old to be allowing myself to be tutored on the “science” of pouring liquid from one container into another, which reminds me of a story:
My grandfather was paying a visit to his doctor and the subject of alcohol consumption came up. The doc wanted to know how much granddad drank every day.
“A pint?” the nosy doctor inquired.
“Spill more than that,” was granddad’s reply.
Pappy’s favored drink was Jim Beam, which reminds me I’ve still got a short snorter hidden in the garage someplace.

Anyhow, it seems a bit too pretentious to be worrying about how a beverage is poured. Chances are, it’ll taste the same no matter what – especially after four our five. The pour is for appearances only and that brings us to the kernel of this nut: if you’re drinking for appearances, you’d better pick up a different hobby.