Schmaltz Brewing – He’Brew R.I.P.A. On Rye

HE’BREW RECENTLY collaborated with Cathedral Square Brewery of St. Louis to produce St. Lenny’s, a Belgian-yeast fermented version of He’Brew’s formidable Bittersweet Lenny’s R.I.P.A. It was a startling effort and powerfully composed, considering how many threads it tried to draw together. Less surprising, though, when weighed against He’Brew’s precedent in supercharging Lenny’s with other bold flavors. To wit, their fourth batch of R.I.P.A. on Rye, which doubling down on the rye kick of this imperial IPA by aging it in Redemption Rye whiskey barrels.

The beer pours a tawny pour with decent head formation, a touch less robust than the St. Lenny’s plume but still generously formed from divers grain proteins and high-AA hops. With the base beer as a starting point this version’s aroma is naturally more distinguished by caramel and vanilla notes from the Redemption Rye barrel-aging. The panoply of hops is still there, this time even further diversified with Saaz, though no longer making the first impression on either nose or tongue. Rye is prominent in both, meanwhile, more conspicuously spicy and peppery on the tongue than was St. Lenny’s, and trading out bready sweetness for the corn-driven kick of bourbon booze. The rye remains strong enough to almost lend a sourness near the midsection before the remaining malts of the full body start to reassert a modest caramel sweetness. Hops contribute a citric fruity tang and underscore the rye’s spice.

The finish combines alcohol slickness (showing all of its 10% ABV), moderate barrel char, and again the rye tingle in a complex if slightly coarse interplay. Fans of bourbon-forward barrel-aged stouts like Goose Island’s BCS (don’t overlook Central Waters Bourbon Barrel) may be intrigued by this beer’s integration of stout’s robust features. But its first impression may also be its best—spending more time with R.I.P.A. on Rye will begin to draw out those slightly ragged edges. Best to share around a table in smaller doses.

Served: 750 ml bottled 1/7/14

Rating: 89

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

Southampton Publick House – Double White Ale

THE IMPERIALIZATION of styles has spread widely throughout beer, often with compelling results. But ‘more’ does not always mean ‘better’ and for some styles can actually mean ‘much worse’. Witbiers, with their wintry translucence, light wheaty bodies, and uplifting zips of spice and tartness, are one such case—juicing them up seems anathema to their inspiration.

Not that brewers haven’t tried it before. Boston Brewing’s Imperial White was perplexing and overwrought, for one. For two, here’s Southampton’s Double White Ale, a 6.6% ABV attempt that offers “a little more of everything.” Overall it’s milder that Boston’s, but “a little more” is still an understatement.

Double White pours a cloudy light gold, rather like honey diluted in water, with a slightly suppressed white head. Appearance is not its strong suit. The aroma is more of peach than orange—an occasional consequence when Witbiers prize robustness over refreshment (see Kronenbourg)—with some extra dosing of yeast in the background. Its flavors and body are rather thick, meanwhile, not showing too much of the wheat that should distinguish its texture via a little extra snap. Spices, too, are a little underpowered for its strength and can’t quite hang with the bits of alcohol that emerge in the finish and linger alongside the first hint of citric sourness. Effervescence is only medium.

All of these notes sound like shortcomings and, technically, they are. Yet it’s worth being reminded that Southampton intentionally set out to fortify Witbier’s fleet-footed flavors and has ultimately followed through, however unevenly. While Double White is far from legitimizing ‘imperial white’ as a style at large, it’s still a more sensible effort than Boston Brewing’s and, grudgingly, rather drinkable.

Served: 22 oz bottle

Rating: 83

Brooklyn Brewery – Post Road Pumpkin Ale

WHILE MANY BREWERIES across the US embrace pumpkin ale as an excuse to put pie into a pint, those in the original Thirteen Colonies seem especially obliged to whip up a batch each autumn. After all, it is the most widely enjoyed historically American style. But not all East Coasters approach it with equal zeal, and some are downright redundant. One of the more tentative offerings is Brooklyn Brewery’s Post Road Pumpkin Ale, though it’s still unmistakeable for its radioactive orange clarity, half-frothy, half-bubbly head, and bouquet of spices (nutmeg assuredly, allspice and clove suggested). Added wheat contributes to impressive head retention and provides another layer to the mouthfeel, still subtle enough to overlook without prompting.

Post Road’s IBU of 24 is a little high for the style and bit of fresh bitterness is apparent in the aroma. But the impression doesn’t linger and isn’t substantiated much in the flavor, where fairly dense and moderately caramelized malts run together a little indistinctly. The body itself retains solid form, though, and is appropriately medium at a bit over 4 Plato. Carbonation is clean and clear, meanwhile, appropriately strong if a little characterless.

The pumpkin flavors are naturally derived, not especially pronounced on the palate and a little thinning in texture; to keep the ABV at a sensible 5% more pumpkin fermentables necessitates less malt. The spicing is strong enough to enliven the mouthfeel, though, ensuring an overall impression more up on the roof of the mouth than sweet stickiness in the back recesses. Many pumpkin ales err on the side of excess, so some credit is due to Brooklyn for their discretion. But even if it is one of the more amenable pumpkin ales available, safe shuffling amidst strident company is scant cause for acclaim.

Served: On tap (Emmett’s Tavern, Palatine)

Rating: 80

Southern Tier Brewing – Oak-Aged Unearthly IPA

AFTER VARIOUS OTHERS among Southern Tier’s upsized beers were toppled for lack of balance, it’s both a pleasure and a relief to discover their Oak-Aged Unearthly IPA. The base beer is a year-round imperial-grade IPA of around 10%, hopped prolifically cross the spectrum (with the usual American ‘C’-uspects) and boldly effervescent. It mayn’t be quite unearthly in its quality, but at least one atmospheric layer or two above most Southern Tier offerings.

Gladly, a few months in oak barrels sees it considerably further along in its journey to the stars. Here at last is a Southern Tier that can be both strident and seductive, succulent at the edges while still sturdy at its core. Darkened nearly to an English bitter by the tannins and barrel char, the Oak-Aged Unearthly still maintains a considerable tight head and visible carbonation. Traditional IPA aromas of florals, pine, and bitter citrus join smoothly on the palate with tangerine, oak, medium dark caramel, and a little vanilla later on. The body is still medium, albeit more creamy than resinous, and its finish accentuates the floral notes over the bitterness found in its un-aged counterpart. The 9.6% ABV never spikes, per se, but rather sneaks in for a cleansing rinse before the finish, enhancing the red wheat’s refreshing pepperiness on the roof of the mouth. And though malts are not particularly spotlighted, their steady presence is sustained throughout to substantiate a host of more compelling flavors.

That said, a more complex base than 2-row and Carapils would have helped the Oak-Aged Unearthly springboard even further into space; but given how straight Southern Tier seem to prefer their malt bills it can hardly be expected of them to change now. One step at a time; better for now to focus on encouraging Southern Tier’s other offerings to be so considerate of the bigger picture as this.

Served: 22 oz

Rating: 91

Southern Tier Brewing – Crème Brûlée Imperial Milk Stout

BEERS SUCH AS Crème Brûlée confound critique. On the one hand, it executes its objective to perfection as a tooth-knackering, cola-colored concoction of liquefied chocolate, whipped crème, vanilla, and whole milk, all with a candied cherry on top. On the other hand, the combination is so intense that a snifter is hardly palatable, much less the entirety of a 22 oz bottle. Splitting it between four parties may not even be

Perhaps, then, best to think of the Crème Brûlée as a bottled chocolate smoothie, concentrated root beer float, or perishable liqueur. Under such circumstances its minimal bitterness, just medium carbonation, lactose-emboldened mouthfeel, slight coffee-blackened aftertaste, and sugary grit would be ideal: drizzled over ice cream, acting as a lower ABV substitute for sweet rum, or suckled on to placate a sweet tooth (which would surely soon rot and fall out with any sustained administration.)

More troubling is that Crème Brûlée is yet another high-gravity Southern Tier that lacks for the taste of alcohol to balance its bigger flavors. Nowhere would that spirituous warmth be more appropriate (indeed, called for) than in a dessert stout of this magnitude. Alas, the beer finishes as thick as it begins with just a hint of its 9.5% ABV’s glow. The aromas are no less chock full of sweet things—potent enough to ward off some would-be tasters. It’s said that the beer mellows considerably over time, but when so many other nightcap alternatives are already better fresh (Old Rasputin, Yeti, BCBS, Plead the 5th, to say nothing of Belgian–style quads), who can be bothered to wait?

Served: 22 oz bottle

Rating:

– As a dessert: 86

– As a beer: 72

Southern Tier Brewing – Compass

IF SOUTHERN TIER’S 2X Steam were to play the straight sweet malt rhythm for a West-by-East Coast take on Belgian tripel, all the jazzy licks and spicy lead notes would come from Compass, their imperial summer seasonal. Generally termed an American Pale Ale, Compass is more specifically a rose hip-sweetened ale bottle-conditioned with a champagne yeast. The result is a highly effervescent, light-bodied, and playfully tart beer that reflects some of Belgian beer’s appealing zest without the yeasty side flavors. Compass pours a muted honey gold with bountiful carbonation visible throughout its translucence and a respectably silky head draped on top. Its aromas show a little pepper, clove, and the gentle tart florals of the rose hips judiciously slotted into the background. Centennial hops were used for bittering and dry-hopping but contribute only secondary notes. Southern Tier can occasionally go overboard with their adjunct flavors (Crème Brûlée, Pumking), but had a lighter hand here and it served them well. Biscuit—a Southern Tier staple—is again prominent on the palate, nicely cut by some lemon citrus and a little pine from the hops that sneak in towards the back end and remind us that this is an American ale after all.

Also customary to Southern Tier, alcohol is not a bold flavor even at 9%. True, Compass is a fine beer already, needing no additional flavors to make it one of Southern Tier’s most complete offerings, but a little more assertiveness in the finish would seem appropriate for a strong seasonal brewed with champagne yeast. Either way, this Compass is one worth following. Or its polarity is true. Or some other hackneyed pun of good-natured but not overwhelmed approval.

Served: 22 oz bottle

Rating: 88

Southern Tier Brewing – 2X Steam

‘2X’ IS THE denomination Southern Tier uses for a small family of imperial-strength ales, usually in complement to a standard-level counterpart in their regular rotation. Thus this offering, the 2X Steam, is an outlier in two respects: it is the only California common beer Southern Tier brews, firstly, and moreover seems to be the only imperial-strength common on the market.

A skeptic might say that Southern Tier merely tried to goose some extra life into steam by just upping its alcohol content. Admittedly, doing so would probably have met with modest success, and this 2X’s looks are certainly no different from the common common: steady amber in color, a finger-and-a-half of head, reasonable lacing and a medium head of smallish bubbles supplied by slightly boosted carbonation. Ho-hum. In truth, though, there’s a little more to Southern Tier’s equation that comes through on the palate and makes this 2X worth sampling by any fans of Anchor’s archetypal Steam. For the rest maybe less so.

First, the body is decidedly fuller than standard common beers and with roundness that invokes smooth, somewhat neutral textures such as cream and corn (separately, thankfully—not creamed corn). It’s no surprise that malts outnumber the hops in the recipe, as honey and caramel are far more prominent than any hop flavor beyond a mildly generic bitterness in the finish. Southern Tier suggests pairing the beer with lighter desserts in acknowledgement of its sweeter qualities, but that might be overkill. In fact, it’s hard to think of what the 2X Steam would pair with especially well…aside from Nilla Wafers.

Although alcohol is marginally present as a flavor, the biscuity girth of 2X Steam is enough to suggest that its gravities are fairly elevated. So in a sense the 8% ABV plays a role in the beer’s character, but only secondarily. There’s hardly any slickness in the finish and very little warmth, either of which would have elevated the beer’s role as a dessert-appropriate drink. Southern Tier often seems satisfied with sweet, though, and found in the common a style perfectly willing to submit to a few more smears of malt sweets without having to cope with ale yeast’s fruitier byproducts.

Indeed, it’s a little perplexing why brewers keep throwing their energies and resources at such a nondescript style. Perhaps they find its hybrid qualities compelling, or desire to craft a uniquely American style that needn’t rely on hop aggression. Both motivations are sound, but an extra layer of frosting can only do so much to improve a mediocre cake.

Served: 12 oz bottle

Rating: 77

Goose Island – 312 Urban Wheat Ale

AS THE FLAGSHIP BEER of Chicago’s Goose Island Brewery both before and after Anheuser Busch-InBev’s 2011 buyout, 312 has been an icon of its area code and the face of Chicago brewing for years. Now distributed in snazzy cans and recently rolled out into all 50 states, the beer has undoubtedly been influenced by the buyout in terms of production scale if nothing else. And while no evidence has surfaced yet of a recipe change, one more thing is undeniable: the Goose Island website now errs in proclaiming ‘brewed and bottled by Goose Island, Chicago, IL’ at the bottom of every page. 312 is being produced largely in area code 315, which for those keeping track is about 670 miles away in central New York State. (In fairness, the bottles themselves do reflect their brewing location.) So even if the mash bill remains the same, some have wondered how the change of scenery, water, and equipment would impact the flavor—concerns that has gone largely unaddressed. Assuredly, delivering a desired product to an ever-increasing audience is fundamentally sound economics. But altering that product and thereby diminishing it to achieve growth objectives is fundamentally alienating and counterproductive.

Will that happen to 312? Has it already happened? The buyout is two years old now, but still recent enough to spark debate and speculation that has yet to be resolved. Whatever the case, this is the baggage Goose Island must have known they were taking on when the deal was made and they’ll bear it till journey’s end. Enough editorializing (for now).

Poured from one of those aforementioned new yellow cans, 312’s color is a little akin to the UV-resistant aluminum surrounding it, albeit with a paler straw hue that ironically looks nearly sun-faded. The head is sizeable, a little sudsy, with hints of residual lacing through the first half. The aromas are airy and not especially concentrated, but it’s easy enough to pick out a light grain base of 2-Row Pale and wheat with a bit of hop tartness, lemon, and a modicum of spice. As of tasting it had spent a mere week in its can.

Unfortunately, despite the beer’s freshness its flavors seem to reflect its faded color. There is wheat present in the body, but it lacks definition—the resemblance is almost more of adjunct grains that blunt the mouthfeel and diminish the refreshing bite of Cascade hops. Too, it lacks the sparkle of carbonation that should really enliven summer/wheat ales. The finish is clean and rather nondescript. None of the 4.2% ABV is present, making 312 an easy companion for summer festivals and copious consumption, which is exactly the direction Busch has taken the brand. And the beer is indeed serviceable: light, inoffensive flavors that escape (excessive) wateriness and a modestly more complex palate than the typical macrobrewed canned lagers on the market. But if that’s now the market 312 is going up against, what is the point of it being a craft wheat ale in the first place? Aside from buying street cred, that is.

So 312 is ultimately an average wheat ale and a notch above that when placed on the full continuum: better than Bud, Coors, Miller, Becks, etc., and also better than Blue Moon and even some legitimate Midwest craft efforts (Boulevard’s Unfiltered Wheat, for one). Yet also worse than Oberon, Gumballhead, or A Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ from Lagunitas, whose new facility in Chicago may make them the new big brother in town to admire.

Let’s now step back and consider this from another perspective (i.e. editorialize). A recent Chicago Business feature on Goose Island argues that the brewery has ‘held onto its cred’ since the buyout, highlighting an array of behind-the-scenes improvements that most consumers wouldn’t consider. These include increased purchasing clout and funding for experimental brews, better wages, and even a much improved safety record, all of which are irrefutable benefits of the conglomerate buyout. Drinkers also reap benefits, mostly via more small-batch brews like Bourbon County Brand Stout (BCBS), regarded as one of the world’s best, and further development of their Belgian-inspired line (Matilda, Sofie, etc.), which has retained its creative and cultured edge.

And yet 312 remains unresolved. Can a product retain its carefully ‘crafted’ qualities even as it’s commoditized? Palates more familiar than mine with the beer’s history will have to make that judgment. The unsettling feeling remains that some sacrifice has to be made upon the altar of macro-mash-management and that 312 is the obvious child. On the other hand, the news that 312’s move to New York allows for a fivefold expansion of BCBS may have fanatical beer fans whetting the ceremonial blades themselves.

Served: 12 oz canned 7/6/13

Rating: 77

Sixpoint Brewery – Resin Double IPA

IN AMERICAN IPA’S perpetual quest for the pure, uncut stuff that pops pupils and pulverizes palates, it seemed only a matter of time before ‘just hops’ would no longer suffice. Thus the pitch behind Resin, Sixpoint’s fifth addition to their year-round stable, which aims to move beyond mere hop buds to extract their quasi-mystical, concentrated essence—the resin. If the reverent video on their website is any indicator, collecting this liquid gold is akin to tapping the plasma in blood, essential oils in cologne, or the eternal soul locked within this mortal coil.

Frankly, though, the brewery has mixed its messages a little, on the one hand highlighting its resinous streak by saying “you’d better be ready to pucker up,” as if daring us to enter a hop monster battle royale, while on the other hand acknowledging the balancing role of malt and their desire for the beer to go down almost on its own.

Though not formally labeled as a Double IPA (Sixpoint resists stylistic appellations in general, preferring to put the relevant specs on the can for consumers to construe on their own), Resin’s 103 IBUs, 9.1% ABV, and SRM of 9.5 all line up neatly within the DIPA profile. A clear and rich amber (seems darker than its rating), the beer makes an attractive first move: its medium body works well in tandem with carbonation sitting just at the front of the mouthfeel while the head, nearly creamy in flavor, is a plentiful and resilient plume of white with substantial lacing. Aromatics are clearly hop-centric, grassy, bitter like tapped roots, and with some slick oils from both the resin and faintly fumey alcohol.

Surprisingly, once actually tasted Resin is not the elixir of a flagellant cult or a masochistic rite of passage that dismisses balance as false gospel. Its triple-digit IBU is a little startling, yes, but in the full context of a thoroughly-malted body it tastes considerably less bitter, almost more in the range of a contemporary non-imperial IPA. A 6.5%, 80 IBU version would probably have tasted no worse.

The best analogy Sixpoint has for Resin is that of a parade: a celebration of hops with many on vibrant display, but proceeding in an organized fashion, leaving no major casualties in its wake, and kept respectably in line by sturdy barricades of crystal malts. All the C hops form the basis for the aromas and bittering while Amarillo poses triumphantly on the center float, bringing a tart red grapefruit focus to the grassy and slightly more diffuse oiliness of the other hops. A thicker cereal kind of malt feel moves in thereafter before splitting the finish evenly with another bitter swell. Alcohol and carbonation keep the aftertaste in line, plenty strong but not overpowering. All in all Resin is a fine beer, if perhaps a little puffed up. What else is new, Brooklyn?

Served: 12 oz can

Rating: 89