I would’ve written this on Tuesday night, but the mead kicked my ass.

On Tuesday, I attended another class at Tria Fermentation School. I know you’ll be shocked, but this class wasn’t devoted to either beer or cheese. Mead, the fermented honey beverage, was the feature! You may remember (but, really, why would you?) that Tria served a delicious mead at two of the beer–tastings I attended. After the second time I tasted that brew, I said I’d like to try several different meads, but I doubted “there’d be enough interest to justify an entire class” devoted to the topic.

Happily enough, though, the good people at Tria were impressed by that same mead, Makana‘s ¡Qhilika African Herbal Blossom Mead, and it inspired them to schedule a class. And there really were a classroom full of people interested of mead, too. They were a little edgier and tattooed and Renaissance Faire-going than Tria’s typical students, I’d say, but I definitely had a good time.

The class was led by Matthias Neidhart, the owner of B. United International, an importer. He brought along eight meads from three countries—Denmark, South Africa, and the U.K. (Actually, he apparently brought along nine meads, but Tria’s classroom didn’t have enough glassware to serve the ninth!) My favorite of the eight was the Makana African Herbal Blossom Mead, the mead that grabbed me originally. That stuff is irresistible. As always, it was spicy and sweet and delicious—featuring cinnamon, licorice, apple, hibiscus, and, particularly noticeable to me this time, rosehips flavors.

Also memorable were two other Makana meads—the ¡Qhilika Dry Mead and the ¡Qhilika African Birds Eye Chili Mead. The Dry Mead offered an incredible honey smell, probably the best smell of the evening, which contrasted nicely with the citrus-y, cider-y taste. This mead smelled sweet but wasn’t. I’d definitely have it again. The African Birds Eye Chili Mead really was made with the aid of chili peppers, and it was spicy-hot. Probably too hot. If there’s such a thing as extreme mead, this would be it. By the time we had this, I was feeling the alcohol more than a little, and my notes are, um, a bit difficult to decipher. Apparently, though, I couldn’t “imagine” wanting to have more than “a tablespoon or two.” Either that, or I was humming some John Lennon and thinking about shopping for the kitchen…. I did write that the chili mead might pair nicely with a sweet cheese, and my friendly seatmate thought it could be served with a mole (er, not of the whack-a-mole variety). I doubt I’m going to find out.

My favorite non-Makana mead of the evening was Dansk Mjød A/S‘s Viking Blod. Made with hops and hibiscus, the Viking Blod offered a sweet taste and a beautiful dark, brandy-like color. Given the hops in the recipe, which—by the way—dates to the 1700s, this mead would probably appeal to many beer-drinkers. And, hey, it’s organic, too.

I was really impressed by the range of flavors at the tasting. I was a little bit worried I’d sit down to a half dozen cloying, syrupy meads. That wasn’t the case at all. In fact, at times, I longed for some stronger honey flavors. Irony.

Like I said, by the end of the evening, I was definitely feeling the alcohol. Some of the meads were over 20% alcohol. And when I got home, I was past it. Within 30 minutes, I was asleep, probably already drooling. If you Google “mead hangover,” you’ll see that the drink has long been thought to have some extra-severe morning-after consequences…. I suffered no hangover, happily, but I definitely didn’t feel “right” the next day.

But, as you know, I ain’t right, anyway.

Hoppy Days

I attended my 11th(!) beer class tonight at Tria Fermentation School. I’m such a regular there that the staff knows my name. Should I be embarrassed by that? I just really like it there. Oh, and I really like beer.

Tonight’s session was led by Mitch Steele, the head brewer at Stone Brewing Co. in San Diego. Like a lot of West Coast craft brewers, Stone is notable for its hops-heavy beers. So, naturally, Steele’s topic was hops (“Hoppy Days Are Here Again,” to be precise). And I have to say I learned quite a bit. Hops, of course, are added to beers to provide bitterness, which—in a good brew—will balance out the sweetness provided by the malt. Hops can add fruity, earthy, floral, and spicy flavors. Hops help a beer retain its head. And hops help prevent spoilage, which is why, back in the day, those British brewers packed their products with hops before sending them off to India, giving us what we now know as India Pale Ales (IPAs)….

All that said, I’m not always a huge fan of hops. There are so many good flavors in beer, and I’m more than a little perplexed at the emphasis that so many brewers place these days on hops. And for my palate, anyway, I need some real sweetness to balance out the bitterness that hops provide.

So, coming into tonight’s session, anyway, I was skeptical about Stone and its hops-heavy brews. But I was pleasantly surprised. We tasted seven Stone products, and five or six of those brews certainly featured hops over other components. It was nevertheless a tasty evening for me. Of the seven brews, one of my particular favorites was actually a fairly hoppy brew—Stone’s 10th Anniversary Ale. If there’s any justice, that limited-edition brew will gain a regular place on Stone’s roster. It was pine-y and anise-y, and the bitterness of the hops somehow didn’t overcome those flavors.

I often like the smell of hoppy beers a lot more than the flavors. Tonight, for instance, I thought Stone’s IPA and, particularly, it’s Double Dry-Hopped IPA smelled incredible. The flavors were good, too, but—somehow or other—it was the smell that primarily sold me on those beers.

My favorite flavor of the evening came from Stone’s Old Guardian Barley Wine. It’s not completely clear to me what makes a barley wine, and that’s something I should work on in my, um, beer education, I guess. Anyway, the Old Guardian Barley Wine is strong (11.3% alcohol), dark, yeast-y, and sort of maple-y(?). Actually, I swallowed my sample of Old Guardian Barleywine before I could completely figure out why it was so appealing to me. It definitely didn’t strike me as overly hoppy. There’ll be a next time for me to try Old Guardian Barley Wine, I hope….

What else did I learn tonight? Well, I learned that I should’ve attended UC-Davis, where I could’ve majored in Brewing Science. I don’t know how I’d’ve explained that to my parents, though. I should’ve asked Steele how he’d explained it to his parents…. If you’ll make me 19 again, I’ll go back to school and do it right this time. (No, really, I don’t want to be 19 again. Ugh.)

Some of the beers we sampled tonight just aren’t available on the East Coast, so it was awfully cool to have the chance to taste them. When I visit San Diego, though, I’m definitely headed to Stone Brewing.

I am not a lush, I swear.

Tonight, I enjoyed my tenth beer-tasting at Tria Fermentation School. Yup, that’s just one night after I attended my ninth…. Apparently, I just can’t get enough, um, beer. Beer education, I mean. (Hi, Mom.)

This session featured two cool brewmasters from Colorado’s New Belgium Brewery. New Belgium’s beers aren’t available in Pennsylvania, so they were pretty much new to me. There was a nice, traditional Belgian dubbel—but if that’s what you’re looking for, and I often am, why not just have something from, well, Belgium?

What really impressed me were three really, really, really sour beers: Eric’s Ale, a specialty release brewed by Eric Salazar, one of tonight’s speakers; La Folie, which I described in my notes as “nuclear sour”; and Le Terroir, which was peachy and yet, somehow, probably the sourest beer of the night. Wow. The very tasty Eric’s Ale, by the way, was originally a one-time release, but it’s apparently coming back. That sounds like a good reason to head to Ft. Collins….

I almost, sort of wish I had a beer-tasting to look forward to tomorrow night….

Beer? Yes, please. Cheese? Yes, please.

Tonight, I attended my ninth beer tasting at Tria Fermentation School. The session was led by Garrett Oliver, the brewmaster at the Brooklyn Brewery and author of The Brewmaster’s Table: Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food. Oliver paired seven Brooklyn Brewery beers with cheeses; I thought nearly every pairing was delicious.

Of the beers, my favorites were the Brooklyner Weisse, notable for its mild citrus and banana notes; the Brooklyn East India Pale Ale, which—like any good IPA—offered hoppiness, an amazing aroma, and a pleasant level of bitterness; the Brooklyn Monster Ale, a beautiful, copper-y barley wine, which was probably my favorite beer of the night; and the Brooklyn Chocolate Stout, a significantly bitter beer featuring a strong espresso smell (and a beer that I absolutely want to taste with some vanilla ice cream).

My favorite cheese of the session was Cypress Grove’s Humboldt Fog, a ripened goat cheese that was salty, zesty, and had just the right texture to bite into. Oliver, by the way, described an omelet made with Humboldt Fog and Granny Smith apples; damn, that sounds good. He paired the Humboldt Fog with the Brooklyner Weisse.

I also enjoyed Mrs. Quicke’s cheddar (paired by Oliver with the IPA) and a Cave-Aged Gruyère (paired with the Monster Ale). I could definitely try those again.

One cheese I definitely don’t want to try again was the Pont l’Eveque, which smelled and tasted so cabbage-y that I couldn’t even finish the sample given to me. I’m a big fan of big flavors, and I usually take to smelly cheese; this one, though, was too much. It made me have visions of a nuclear cabbage (or turnip) explosion. I’ll pass, thanks.

It was certainly an enjoyable class. The thoughtful Oliver was so downright dapper that I wanted to slip him my phone number. Sadly enough, I didn’t have the chance. For that matter, I didn’t really have the chance to flirt with anyone tonight. Will I ever find the beer-swilling, cheese-loving man for me?

Worshipping Beer

Between Missing Weekend #1 and Missing Weekend #2 (report still to come), I attended my eighth beer tasting at Tria Fermentation School. The session was called Beer is Divine, and it was led by Chris O’Brien, the author of Fermenting Revolution: How to Drink Beer and Save the World. O’Brien talked about ancient beers and how early peoples used beer to get all, well, transcendent—or, as some might call it, closer to god.

We first tasted three pleasant beers from Delaware’s Dogfish Head Brewery. The Dogfish Head Pangaea, made from ingredients from every continent, struck me with its traditional hoppy smell and flavor. It’s a beer I could probably enjoy one right after the other, preferably over some good conversation. I liked the Dogfish Head Midas Touch Golden Elixir a little less; it had a very light grape-y flavor, apparently attributable to the presence of Muscat grapes in the recipe. (If I’m going to have grapes, which aren’t one of my favorites, I’ll just have wine, thanks.) My favorite of the Dogfish beers was the Chateau Jiahu, based on an old recipe from northern China. The Chateau Jiahu also smelled a little grape-y to me, but I got more honey and citrus flavors on my palette. It’s what I’ll want to sample when I visit Dogfish’s brewery in Milton, Delaware.

I probably enjoyed three European beers a bit more. Particularly appealing to me was the kick of the strong Paulaner Salvator, a beer I’ve had before. Salvator is a doppelbock—in other words, it’s a Lenten beer, meaning it was designed to be strong and hearty enough to keep the monks going when they were fasting. I also savored the Eggenberg Samichlaus, a beer featuring Christmas spices that was deliciously paired by Tria with chocolate. My favorite beer of the evening, though, was probably the Orval ale, the product of a Belgian Trappist brewery. It had an incredible, complex smell (floral and citrus-y, I suppose), and it offered just about the right amount of bitterness in the finish. Highly recommended.

Ironically, though, for the second time in a row, it was a mead—once again, Makana Meadery‘s ¡Qhilika African Herbal Blossom Mead—that I loved best. O’Brien talked quite a bit about mead, particularly the meads (or t’ej) he drank during travels in Ethiopia. Honey, O’Brien noted, might have been the world’s first fermented product.

I’m keen on trying out several different meads. The ¡Qhilika, which is profoundly spicy, is probably not that representative. I can’t imagine, though, that there’d be enough interest to justify an entire class devoted to meads.

Apparently, there are some beers I’m just not going to love.

I hit another beer-tasting tonight at Tria Cafe’s Fermentation School. This session was “Exotic Brews from Abroad,” and the speaker was Matthias Neidhart, the owner of B. United International, an importer. Neidhart was knowledgeable and entertaining, and he brought along six particularly potent (and certainly unusual) beers, a sake, and a mead(!) to taste.

Unfortunately, I can’t say any of tonight’s beers particularly appealed to me. That’s completely abnormal for me, of course. But the finish on Kiuchi Brewery‘s Hitachino Nest Japanese Classic Ale was so bitter, so long-lastingly bitter, that I can barely remember what the beer actually tasted like. The Aventinus from G. Schneider & Sohn was just too blah (i.e., mild) for me. And Birreria Baladin‘s Xyauyu’…well, what to say. Although I enjoyed the Xyauyu’s light, almost-cognac smell, the taste was something I wouldn’t want to experience again anytime soon. In my notes, I described it as “nauseatingly sweet” and “sort of like sweetened cough syrup.” Sound yummy? Nah, it really wasn’t.

My two favorite beers from tonight’s event were the L’Abbaye de Saint Bon-Chien from Brasserie des Franches-Motagnes and the Stille Nacht Special Reserva 2000 from De Dolle Brouwers in Belgium. The Abbaye de Saint Bon-Chien offered a nice caramel smell and a light, tart flavor. The Stille Nacht, which has been rarely tasted in the States, struck me for its mild, delicious cognac notes. (Yes, that’s two cognac references in one sitting. Maybe I just had a cognac smell stuck in my head!) I don’t think I liked either the Stille Nacht or the Abbaye de Saint Bon-Chien enough to seek them out again, though.

Strangely enough, what I really, really enjoyed was the mead. Mead, of course, is a fermented honey beverage, and Neidhart brought along a cool example from South Africa—Makana Meadery‘s ¡Qhilika African Herbal Blossom Mead. ¡Qhilika is a semi-sweet, yet spicy mead. I enjoyed the anise, apple, and cinnamon flavors that predominated. Very, very nice. In fact, I’m thinking I should purchase some for the apartment, but I can’t imagine where I’m going to find it (in Pennsylvania, the state-owned liquor stores are anything but customer-friendly).

P.S.: I just realized there’s an International Mead Festival. Unfortunately, I just missed the 2007 iteration. Bummer.

Malty = Delicious

I attended another Tria Cafe beer-tasting tonight. That makes six over the past few months, I think, plus I attended one of Tria’s cheese-tasting…. Am I a good customer or what?

Tonight’s session was titled Imbibing History, and it was led by Chris LaPierre—a brewer at one of Iron Hill Brewery‘s local outlets. LaPierre talked about the history of beer and, well, how beer may have altered the course of history. There’s a theory, for instance, that some hunting-and-gathering populations settled down so they could grow grains and make beer. (There may be a chicken-and-egg problem there. Did early people settle down to make beer, or did they make beer because settling down made it easier?)

Anyway, of the beers LaPierre presented, I was most fond of the Thomas Hooker Octoberfest, a malty beer that offered pleasant caramel notes. The Octoberfest is brewed in the German Marzen style, which originally meant that a beer was prepared in March (at the end of the brewing season) in a manner ensuring it would last (over the yeast-unfriendly summer) until the end-of-the-harvest festival.

I also enjoyed Iron Hill’s own Baltic Porter, particularly the pronounced chocolate flavors it boasted. Baltic porters, I guess, were originally made strong, to withstand the long journeys from western Europe. Zywiec Porter, which I blogged about a couple of months ago, is a notable Baltic porter. I need to figure out how Baltic porters are different from Russian Imperial stouts….

I also liked (if a bit less so) Traquair House’s Scotch Ale. Historically, Scottish brews haven’t featured hops, which didn’t grow well in Scotland. So this was yet another malty treat for me to enjoy. In fact, I’d say that was tonight’s theme for me: I was in a malty frame of mind.

Question of the Day: [this is so good]

I’m smitten with this Belgian raspberry Lambic beer. To my palate, Lindemans Framboise is more raspberry than beery. And while I’d usually regard that kind of thing as a failing, I just can’t help myself. I love the raspberry smell and flavor, and the pleasantly sour afternotes keep the beer from seeming too sweet.

If I have any more beer, will I qualify as an actual lush?

I attended my fifth Tria Cafe beer-tasting tonight. This event featured more Belgian-style beers, primarily beers produced by New York’s Brewery Ommegang and its Belgian parent, Duvel Moortgat. Of tonight’s six beers, I particularly liked the Ommegang Abbey Ale Dubbel, which offered anise flavors and a complex spiciness, and a Rodenbach Grand Cru. The latter veered dangerously close to being vinegary, yet I loved it.

Actually, one of my favorite flavors tonight came in a small bit of chocolate, a piece of Neuhaus Madagascar vanilla bourbon milk chocolate.

Sadly, the man I flirted with in early December was nowhere to be seen at this beer-tasting. Sigh.

More Beer (Sans, Sadly, the Flirtation Chaser)

Tonight, I attended my fourth beer-tasting sponsored by Tria Cafe. This one featured eight(!) Belgian beers. Philly, as you may not know, is a hotbed in the United States for Belgian beers. We can thank Monk’s Cafe, the Belgian beer “emporium,” for that. One of the founders of Monk’s, Tom Peters, led tonight’s session—which, by the way, was delicious.

My favorites tonight were (i) a very citrus-y Cantillon Gueuze that’s a special blend available at Monk’s and (ii) an incredibly sweet Lindemans Framboise, which is flavored (and colored) by raspberries. I don’t think I’m supposed to be ga-ga over, or at least entirely respect, the Lindemans—mostly because it seems to have some of the hallmarks of mass-produced beers. For instance, it’s actually apparently made with raspberry syrup rather than the actual fruit. But the Framboise was so damn sweet and so damn tasty that I just couldn’t help myself. It was like the best Kool-Aid ever. And Kool-Aid offers no, um, delightful buzz.

The only disappointment of the evening is that I didn’t see the handsome man I flirted with at the last beer-tasting. (Ok, maybe “flirt” isn’t the right word. Is there some word between “flirt” and “accost”? Nothing immediately comes to mind.)

P.S. I managed to stay awake during the entire trip home on the train. Soon, Dad will be able to take the training wheels off my bicycle, too, I bet.