New Belgium / Dieu du Ciel! Collaboration – Heavenly Feijoa Tripel (Lips of Faith)

TRADITIONAL BELGIAN tripels are remarkable for many reasons, not least among them the complexity they extract from a modicum of ingredients. Heavenly Feijoa, a recent Lips of Faith collaboration between New Belgium Brewing and Dieu du Ciel!, is the antithesis of such economy. With hibiscus, feijoa juice, pungent New Zealand hops, and even a small dose of black malt, this 9.4% ABV tripel risked being a garish waste of ‘artisanal’ ingredients. Yet all these strange tweaks share a common thread, revealing the conscientious craftsmanship that drives this series—a refreshing reminder after a string of seemingly haphazard disappointments—and the results are rather charming.

The beer’s looks are traditional, if a little underwhelming: golden, a little hazy, and with a thin layer of white head but no lasting bubbles. The aroma blends ginger snap and lemon with an unexpected twist of tart berry coming from the feijoa juice, presumably bolstered by almost winey Nelson Sauvin hops. That bouquet presages a surprisingly tart, forward-focused flavor that shifts its focus from citrus early to berries late. Yeast and malt are more apparent in between, though more for the other flavors’ waning than their own waxing. Marked as Best Before March 2014, the beer’s has clearly smoothed considerably since its bottling—at that time a spicier midsection and more assertive effervescence would likely have helped keep its distinctive corners pinned up neatly. Carbonation remains fairly high, though, with small and creamy bubbles carrying smoothly from front to back and leaving the finish fairly clean, if not especially lasting. The beer’s body is likely a little fuller than most tripels, too, and the juice likely didn’t ferment out quite as cleanly as the traditional adjunct of candi sugar. Perhaps that aging has also diminished the alcohol presence, since a 9.4% ABV is rarely so unobtrusive, especially in a tripel. The ultimate balance is well-struck between mild titillation and simply good refreshment.

Served: 750 ml bottle best before March 2014

Rating: 85

New Belgium / Half Acre Collaboration – Avoine IPA (Lips of Faith)

AFTER NEW BELGIUM’S awkward Lips of Faith collaboration with Cigar City, one had hoped their follow-up with Half Acre would put the avant-garde series back on track. Unfortunately, Avoine (derived from French for ‘oat’) sees them wandering even further afield. While not as conspicuously odd as the Cigar City chile ale, putting oats in an IPA is far from the conventional choice. And now we can see why.

The beer’s initial features are appealing, pouring a somewhat hazy yellow with a reasonably frothy, thumb-wide white head. The aroma is predominantly tropical, heavy on Citra’s mango and supported by Amarillo’s grapefruit, with lemon and a bit of pine further back (presumably the Centennial). The flavor shows a similar procession, hugely fruity in the midsection with notes of lemon and pineapple playing around the edges of commanding Amarillo. The oats are hard to place in the flavor, but do explain the slightly bulging midsection and its blunted mouthfeel. Malt contributes some generic honey sweetness while the fuller body tamps down the carbonation (a little too low to begin with) and leaves the finish a little flat. Centennial’s piney bitterness becomes considerably stronger in the finish (reckon around 50 IBUs)—somewhat disjointed from the previous fruit dominance, it also lacks for a clear malt character to effectively execute the transition from tropical hop flavors to more straightforward bitterness in the finale. Avoine makes a reasonably good first impression and has some appealing characteristics, taken piecemeal. But overall it feels too obviously like a prototype, a late-night epiphany—an act of faith, misplaced.

Served: On tap (Clementi’s, Arlington Heights)

Rating: 73

Schmaltz Brewing / Cathedral Square Collaboration – He’Brew St. Lenny’s

BASED ON He’Brew’s Lenny’s R.I.P.A., St. Lenny’s was brewed in collaboration with St. Louis’ Cathedral Square. Unsurprisingly, the latter tends to focus on abbey-style beers, and so this imperial IPA(-ish) was made with Belgian yeast. It took some hubris to add yet another layer of complexity Lenny’s already fulsome recipe, and perhaps genius, too, since somehow it manages to work out.

St. Lenny’s pours a dark orange/amber with an unexpectedly generous head for a 10% ABV beer. The aroma is dense and aggressive, sprinkling signature Belgian yeast sweetness and lighter fruit notes (e.g. pear) atop caramelized grains, some dry rye, spice, and an almost overwhelming hop bouquet: piney, perfumey, herbal, citric, floral, resinous…aside from ‘dank’ or ‘catty’, just about every adjective associated with West Coast hops can be found here. And small wonder, as Lenny’s R.I.P.A. added fully seven different cultivars to the boil and used three for dry-hopping. The malt bill is equally packed, spanning conventional pale malts, two kinds of rye, wheat, and several caramel varieties. The rye’s midpalate kick helps balance the beer’s sweeter Belgian notes against the hop bitterness; no doubt it’s even more a presence in the base beer. The percentage of other darker malts is high enough to almost push St. Lenny’s into amber territory, as it has a fair amount of caramelization and toasted notes at the edges. Its color is also dark enough to defy standard DIPA expectations.

Too, despite its bales of hop flavor St. Lenny’s is actually not too profoundly bitter. Perhaps the barrage of malts mitigates the alpha acids somewhat, but the body is still only off-medium, tapering from midsection through the finish. Carbonation is relatively quiet, allowing the hop flavors plenty of space to develop without provoking their acidity. Relatively little space is left for rye spice on the back end, which is predominantly leafy and a little warm from the (otherwise hidden) 10% ABV.

The absurd excess of St. Lenny’s recipe is a direct contradiction to one of abbey-style ale’s most fundamental tenets: effective simplicity, drawing a wealth of flavors from a select handful of ingredients. But it remains a compelling expression of hops, and a fittingly immoderate homage (they call it “obscene”) to an equally contrarian spirit. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Lenny Bruce.

Served: 750 ml bottle

Rating: 90

New Belgium / Cigar City Collaboration (Ale Brewed With Chilies) (Lips of Faith)

OF THE MORE THAN two dozen beers in New Belgium’s Lips of Faith series, this collaboration with Cigar City is one of very few not to have its own name. Perhaps after tasting it the brewers didn’t feel it was worth the extra effort. Though not quite bad, this effort just seems to have missed the target—especially given the firepower on hand.

It may just be a result of trying to do too much—with too much: Belgian yeast, two kinds of peppers, and hops from three continents. At 8.5% ABV and golden-hued, this might could have had a generally Bière de Garde kind of profile, but the elevated IBUs (50) and exotic herbal flavors just don’t come together very well. Its first impression is friendly, even clement, showing some lemongrass in the aroma, pale grains, peach, and a complex mélange of globally sourced hops (Target, Centennial, Cascade, Pacific Jade, Wakatu, Simcoe)—herbal, perfumy, and tropical with a dose of pine. The midsection is then a little citric and begins to show some of the grain base, but the beer’s real statement comes late, where the light herbal notes get funkier and the peppers underscore a pronounced bitterness.

Fermentation was allowed to be rather complete, giving the beer a light body and high effervescence that does little to center the stronger flavor tangents of its back end. The finish is grassy, a touch vegetal even. Perhaps this makes it a good partner in spicy dishes—Thai curry, maybe—but one might as well cook with this beer as drink it. Though New Belgium’s Lips of Faith can indeed be funky, herbal, and quirky, they usually still strive to be alluring. This one is just peculiar.

Served: 750 ml bottled 9/1/13

Rating: 78

Upland Brewery / New Belgium Collaboration – Synthesis Series

THE LIGHT AND DARK SYNTHESIS is a collaboration aptly named. Conceived by Upland Brewing of Bloomington, Indiana and completed by New Belgium of Fort Collins, Colorado, the project joins large with small, east with west, and mature with nascent markets; the resulting beers are as distinct as they are complementary.

Each beer contains 50% of one of New Belgium’s ‘house’ sours. Named Oscar and Felix after the Odd Couple, these two lagers serve as the basis for essentially all of New Belgium’s wild ales. Oscar is the darker of the two (1554 minus some black malts) and thus the foundation of Dark Synth, while Light Synth is based upon Felix (an unspiced Biere de Mars). Their remaining halves are handled by Upland, who blend in two more beers from their public portfolios in 40/10 ratios to complete these fruited lambic-style ales.

Dark Synth

Dark Synth’s second half is 40% Dantalion and 10% Raspberry Lambic, giving it a russet color and a thin but lasting head. The Dantalion contributes assertive lactic sourness, moderately yogurt on the midpalate with a bit of Brett arriving late for texture. The beer’s darker malts and year-plus of oak barrel aging enhance the raspberries’ tartness, making them seem more like cranberry or blackberry. The finish is correspondingly tart and dry, astringent even, with a penetrating depth and touch of alcohol warmth. A bit of yeast funk combines with bright carbonation for an expansive finish with plenty of residual tingle. A little akin to an Oud Bruin baked into raspberry scones, Dark Synth is powerful and balanced.

Served: 750 ml bottle

Rating: 92

Light Synth

Light Synth is an even more complicated blend, as its 40% component is from Upland’s Sour Reserve, itself a well-matured cuvee. The last 10% is generally their Cherry Lambic, though the version brought to FoBAB instead contained 10% Boon Kriek. The result is an orange-gold with a finger or so of pure white head. Cherries are present in the aroma, though its overall impression is airy and perfumy. The flavors are more penetrating, strongly tart with a bit of solvent or fusel burn, but still considerably more delicate than Dark Synth and with a lighter body. In fact, with its shorter finish, more restrained carbonation, and broader array of fruity esters, Light Synth is nearly dainty. Strong yet subtle, though not quite as memorable.

Served: 750 ml bottle

Rating: 91

Hoppin’ Frog Brewery / Fanø Brygghus Natasha Røcks America

TAKE  A DEEP BREATH before reading aloud: a bomber-only monster of the Midwest (Hoppin’ Frog) joins forces with cult Danish islanders (Fanø Brygghus) to deliver their second collaboration brew (European Tour Series – 2 of 3), a 7.5% ABV Chocolate Rye Imperial Stout called Natasha Rocks America. Sound like a mouthful? So is the beer.

Natasha pours with an oily consistency and moderately tan thin head with sizeable bubbles. Its color is not quite as opaquely black as expected, rather more like loam, but the aroma still bursts with nearly all the trappings of the blackest stouts: dark chocolate (though the brew contains none), coffee, vanilla bean, some earthy rye spice, roasted malt, and a bit of smoke. It even implies some barrel qualities without actually having aged in one. Dry-hopping helps keep the nose from being cloying, but the hops’ overall impact is likely less than the brewers intended. No matter—there’s plenty else to consider even before taking a sip.

Unfortunately, all that decadence in the aroma seems to have distracted from the beer itself. The glut of aromas is manifested in the flavor, but due to lowish carbonation and a stuffed body they lack the robustness and definition of truly regal imperial stouts. That’s not to say the beer’s claim to richness is inaccurate; to the contrary, in fact. Natasha started at 20 Plato, but bottled at only 7.5% ABV the bulk of fermentable sugars remaining means a Plato of 7.5. It’s fit to burst, in other words, and if fully fermented might have brushed up against 10%. Double digit ABVs are hardly a guarantee of quality, but chances are that more time in the fermenter would have helped Natasha mature and distinguish its flavors, making it more of a beer and less of a sweet syrup. Still an indulgent adventure.

Served: 22 oz bottle

Rating: 88

Mikkeller / Three Floyds Collaboration – Hvedegoop Wheatwine

THOUGH THE HVEDEGOOP was evidently revived by Mikkeller in 2012, it’s difficult to tell whether this sample was from that solo effort or the original 2008 collaboration with Three Floyds. The former seems more likely, as it was served on tap at the Mikkeller pub in 2013, but the chalkboard draft list named Three Floyds as collaborator, and Mikkeller is renowned for serving up barrels of boggling rarity. Case in point, their debut draft list for Mikkeller & Friends, their second bar in Copenhagen that opened in Nørrebro earlier this year. The kind of stock that can nonchalantly slip Westvleteren XII in at #18. Moving on.

The Hvedegoop comes from a series of high-gravity ‘goops’, each based on barleywine brewing technique but subbing out the barley for different grains. Think of it as the mad-scientist counterpoint to Mikkeller’s Single Hop series. Hvedegoop (Hvede meaning wheat) is the least extreme of these, given that wheatwine is also an extant style whereas other recipes in the series for ‘ryewine’ or ‘oatwine’ are decidedly not. And regardless of vintage, be it ’08 or ’12, this beer is characteristically complex and off-kilter, even considering the two breweries involved. A moderately orange/gold pour with a lively head and unexpectedly light body (once again suggesting the ’12 version). Call it a shade up from amber ale, somewhere around apricot. Smells more like a Mikkeller than Three Floyds, moreover, but with some extra honey blended in and darkened a bit from a standard ale. On the hoppier side, grassy-like despite its wheat-based grain bill, and with brushes of lighter fruits (bit of peach, pear) here and there. Caramel malts push through the bitterness about 2/3 of the way through, while alcohol heat (10.4%) increases throughout the drink. Wheat gives some aromatic fluff, but doesn’t deepen the flavor much; too many hops for that softer grain to really come to the fore. Spiciness at the end is more peppery than herbal. Interesting, but a marginal misfire for the style. Assuming they ever intended it to fit into just one.

Served: On tap (Mikkeller Bar, Copenhagen)

Rating: 85

Mikkeller/Grassroots – Wheat is the New Hops Pale Ale

FITTING TWIST ON THE IPA from these alchemists and a sentiment I would gladly see pursued. Traditional in appearance—golden, translucent, strong carbonation, pure white two fingers of lacy head—but with unique additions in judicious amounts to add a layer of intrigue to the flavor. Wheat smooths the palate entry exquisitely almost to invisibility, followed by a brief pale malt backbone (Maris Otter, fittingly ‘gamey’) before citrus and Centennial hops close in assertively in the final third. Alcohol of 6% is noticeable but fairly tame in a mix that also includes brettanomyces, which plays an almost sweet vs. sour role in this finish, allowing the hops (fundamentally grassy, but with some tropical spark around the edges) to be assertive without becoming puckering. Aroma reflected this: slightly musty and pungent without being funky or too thick. Complex without being busy, doesn’t overplay its hand.

Served: On tap (The Rover, Gothenburg)

Rating: 86

Grassroots Brewing/Duck-Rabbit

COLLABORATIVE CAROLINIAN EFFORT producing a good and slow-sipping satisfying brew, but one that doesn’t quite commit to its full potential. 15% rye in the mash bill with Simcoe and Nugget hops give this a thoroughly American profile, though its 7.5% is more subdued than some other American brewers might have chosen. Pumpernickel/rye  coloration, medium head in size and bubbles. Expected chocolate (high but not overpowering cocoa content) and toffee towards the beginning, but the rye conclusion pushes the final impression aside, either blunting or smoothing it, depending on opinions. Picked back up a bit for the hops in the finish, but these neither are established too particularly. Moderate body in the finish, which the rye lengthens considerably, and on the drier side. Would have again, but probably not first.

Served: On Tap (Mikkeller Bar, Copenhagen)

Rating: 86

Stillwater Artisian Ales/Mikkeller/Fanø Brygghus Collaboration – Gypsy Tears (Red Wine Barrel-Aged)

FIRST THINGS FIRST: let’s break down the divers ingredients of this patchwork beast. Base beer: Gypsy Tears, a sour stout of 8.5%. Concocted by: Stillwater Artisinal in collaboration with Mikkeller. Brewed at: Fanø Brygghus. The Special X: Aged six months in red wine barrels.

Second things second: let’s allow each of those potent morsels to sink in. Take your time.

Third things third: with appetites whet, let’s turn to drink itself. As is obvious by now, the Barrel-Aged Gypsy Tears is a new and unorthodox take on a stout, nearly unrecognizable as such for its twin variations on the theme: 100% brettanomyces fermentation and a lengthy bath in red wine barrels from Brunello. Yet for all its eccentricities the beer keeps itself in order from head to toe dregs, beginning with a deep, deep red pour that turns blackened-brown at the core with a sturdy tan cap of fine bubbles. Its animating spirits intensify from there through an aggressively vinous bouquet with plenty of lambic-style funk lurking underneath. The malt and chocolate-heavy tones of most high-gravity stouts can also be peripherally discerned, teasing the flavor into several tangents without resolving around any single motif. A little perplexing, admittedly, but not overwhelming. The body, though fairly full, is still lighter than most big stouts and rather dry indeed through the brett-heavy midpalate. Oak, tangy grapes, and some roast malts poke up towards the finish before the carbonation spikes, ushering in in a tannic flourish and further sourness. Hops are somewhere in the mix, but sandwiched between the wine at the front and the dry bite at the back they’re difficult to isolate. Likely for the best, given the complexities at work.

Arcane collaborations of this sort often result in a messily stitched-together monster, loveable to its makers and unpalatable to the rest. Happily for us, Stillwater, Mikkeller, and Fanø are more adroit surgeons—their product is more pleasingly proportionate than its pastiche of parts would suggest. And though it’s naturally preferable to try a base brew before experiencing its barrel-aged variations, these wine-tinged Tears seem to flow more freely than the others. Do not shy away.

Served: On tap (Mikkeller Bar, Copenhagen)

Rating: 92