We don't need no stinking judges!

Being a middle child isn’t easy. You’re often relegated to the thankless role of peacemaker or simply an involuntary buffer between two warring siblings (getting boogers wiped on you or farted on isn’t uncommon). Middle children strive for anonymity not because they prefer it but because it’s all they know.

Being a middle child isn’t all bad though; from this struggle comes the fuel for artistic expression and creativity. When I think of Belgium I can’t help but frame it in these terms. Wedged between France and Germany, Belgium’s history and identity is often viewed through the lens of its larger, more powerful neighbors. Like the ongoing identity crisis a middle child often faces, Belgium also faces conflict within its borders between the Dutch (Flemish) north and the French (Walloon) south. In spite of these difficulties Belgians have still managed to create a distinct identity for themselves. A major component of that identity is their beer.

Loving Belgian beer is not a prerequisite for loving craft beer, but it’s damn close. Many if not all the great American craft breweries have Belgian-style beers in their arsenal. These brewers aren’t merely paying lip service, all share a deep respect and passion for the true king of beers. While “America’s Funniest Home Videos” didn’t invent the getting-hit-in-the-nuts gag, it did perfect it. The same can be said about Belgium and beer.



One American brewery that has dedicated itself exclusively to creating Belgian-style ales is Brewery Ommegang in upstate New York. Just a short drive from the baseball hall of fame in Cooperstown, Ommegang began operating in 1997. Since that time it has employed the expertise of Belgian breweries Scaldis and Brouwerij Duvel Moortgat (Yes, that’s the same folks that brew Duvel). In fact, in 2003 the founders sold to Brouwerij Duvel Moortgat and since then Ommegang has significantly upped its production and availability throughout the U.S. (Foreign intervention isn’t always bad.)

One thing you should know about me is I don’t place a lot of stock in awards. This stems from a lifetime of disappointments; none greater than when Cuba Gooding Jr. beat out William Macy for best supporting actor during the 1996 Academy Awards for his performance in “Jerry Maguire.” Thanks to Cuba, casino employees around the world have had to endure screaming pleas of “show me the money” for the past 15 years. William H. Macy on the other hand gave us such gems as “What the heck do ya mean?” and “you betcha” from his momentous performance in “Fargo.” I’ve been hurt. But when it comes to beer awards all that baggage mysteriously goes out the window. When I heard that Ommegang’s Abbey Ale Dubbel won a gold medal in the World Beer Cup I had to try it immediately. True, I had no idea what the hell the World Beer Cup was until I read about it, but it didn’t matter, I had fallen under its spell. I drove to the local bottle shop and picked up a 25 ounce bottle for $6.99.

Ommegang Abbey pours a dark rich brown with slight hues of sunset orange. The lively tan head settles to a persistent half-finger coat. This is one of those beers I would order strictly on appearance alone. While not as striking as the appearance, the nose has drawing power as well. Dark fruits at the fore with Belgian yeast and clovey spice playing underneath. Unfortunately, things start to go wrong from there. When I take the first sip the first thing I notice is not any of the dark fruit flavors but a watery flat mouthfeel. I really have to work to pick up any flavors. Bland and muted are two regularly occurring adjectives in my notes. While this beer has been disappointing it hasn’t necessarily been offensive. The finish would change all that. It ends with a harsh alcohol dryness that is infused with a slightly metallic, tinny flavor.

Drinking Abbey Ale is like having an amazing phone conversation before a first date but then the actual date lasts 45 minutes and you’re trying to find your friends at the next bar so you can tell them how horribly wrong it all went. Yes, I know it’s a gold medal winner and has an A- rating on Beer Advocate but I can only go on what I experienced. It’s definitely not a question of disliking the style because Maredsous 8 and Brother Thelonious are beers I thoroughly enjoy.

I really wanted to love this beer, but we just couldn’t make it work. Life is full of disappointments and I just have to accept that this is one of them. I’m glad Abbey Ale has given others happiness -- I’m not bitter because I know firsthand that Ommegang makes great beers like Hennepin and Rare Vos. I just have to stop feeling like I did something wrong, trust my assessment and tell the World Beer Cup judges that I respectfully disagree with their assessment (I’m sure that would shake them to their core). Yet again my distrust in awards has been affirmed. It reminds me of the 1990 Academy Awards when “Dances with Wolves” beat out "Goodfellas."

Brewery Ommegang Abbey Ale
Dubbel
8.5% abv
$6.99 for a 25 ounce bottle
It would be a good deal if I liked it but I didn’t so no $:)s

Getting Savage

Not everything that came out of the 1980s was bad; yes, the decade saw the rise of the mullet (aka The Tennessee Top Hat) and the birth of pegged jeans, the evil ancestor of the current skinny jeans scourge, but it also marked the emergence of several craft beer powers like Sierra Nevada, Boston Beer Company, and Anchor Brewing. These pioneers, along with others, set the stage for what is now the golden age of American Craft beer. Why do I call this the golden age of American craft beer? Number one, because I'm living in it and it’s human nature to attach more importance to any time that you're living in. Number two, there have never been more commercial breweries in the United States than now (that includes pre-prohibition the other golden age of American beer ). Number three, brewers are currently bending and recasting the guidelines of style with amazing results. It's a good time to be a craft beer drinker -- strike that, it's a FANTASTIC TIME to be a craft beer drinker.

One of these '80s pioneers who has firmly established itself as a craft beer power in the Western U.S. is Bend, Oregon's Deschutes Brewery. Founded in 1988 by Gary Fish as a Brewpub, Deschutes has become one of the countries preeminent craft breweries. From their staples Black Butte Porter and Mirror Pond Ale to their Reserve Series that include such masterpieces as The Abyss and Mirror Mirror, Deschutes has shown an innate ability to make beers for both the casual craft beer drinker and the extreme “why the hell are you taking notes in a bar?” beer drinker. Let me drop my pseudo-journalistic tone for a moment and say if I were told I could only drink beer from one brewery for the rest of my life Deschutes would definitely make my top three, after that the decision would be more gut wrenching than when I had to decide between Team Jacob or Team Edward. (I chose Team Edward not because of Robert Pattison’s aura of sexy indifference but because of the hair hygiene issues that a wolf man likely has.)

Deschutes has an extensive roster of beers so choosing one could potentially pose difficulty, but remember this blog is about value. That isn’t to say that I won’t review more expensive beers some time down the road -- value can still be had with more expensive offerings -- but my focus for now is keeping things under the $7-8 per bomber mark. The beer I ended up choosing was their Hop Henge Experimental IPA which I picked up a bomber of for $6.49.

According to the Deschutes website, Hop Henge is part of its Bond Street Series, which “highlights a handful of hop-forward beers that began when Deschutes was just a small brewpub.” I have to say I like the idea of paying tribute to their brewpub origins. Okay, maybe there is a slight marketing gimmick at work here but when a fledgling brewery finds that first hit with the public it is undoubtedly a seminal moment and paying homage seems only fitting.

Hop Henge pours a sharp semi-translucent copper with a two-fingered white head that quickly disseminates to a thin layer. The odor is an enticing perfume of caramel and citrus. The malts are in the driver’s seat but the hops are definitely not passive bystanders. Now this is where things get interesting. Remember that rash of movies where a kid and an adult would switch bodies? Of course there’s “Freaky Friday” but I’m more of a “Vice Versa” man myself. (Savage and Reinhold, no script necessary folks, just switch the cameras to on and let the magic happen.) Hop Henge pulls a “Vice Versa” in that the taste is the inverse of the nose. The caramel malts emerge a little in the beginning but the citrus hops take control from the middle on and build to a sharp assertive bitterness. This beer has a certain rawness to it and I feel like I could be back at the Deschutes brewpub circa 1991 rocking out to some Alice in Chains.

The mouthfeel pulls its own little “Vice Versa”: it is seemingly thin initially but leaves a heavy coat of hops and malts on the tongue. I would be remiss if I also didn’t mention the Kirk Cameron and Dudley Moore starrer “Like Father, Like Son.” The casting of this movie could not have been more of a mismatch. You have a multi-talented comedian, composer, and musician in Dudley Moore and an anti-evolution crusading no-talent d-bag in Kirk Cameron. I hope Dudley had his memory erased of this abomination while Kirk might get trapped on an island of sexually-deprived Neanderthals.

Hop Henge is a beer characterized by its contradictions but ultimately it’s these contradictions that make it a complex and enjoyable brew. While many Double IPAs go heavier on the malts to achieve more balance, Hop Henge embraces the bittering power of its hops while not taking your pallet hostage in the process. The $6.49 price tag isn’t unreasonable, you are getting a solid Double IPA that is almost 9% abv and could make a viewing of “18 Again” tolerable (yet another one), but knock a dollar off and you would have something really special.

Deschutes Hop Henge Experimental IPA
Double IPA
8.75% abv
$6.49 for a bomber
$:) $:)

The Bums Will Always Lose

I swear I intended to review a non-Californian beer this time, but destiny intervened and here I am drinking yet another brew from the greatest dysfunctional state in the union. The town of Kernville, located 200 miles northeast of Los Angeles, defies pretty much every stereotype people have about California. It’s small (around 2,000 people), it’s serene, the people are friendly, the air is breathable, and good parenting isn’t considered buying your teen a new Beemer. I haven’t been to Kernville in almost 8 years but I can guess with a fair amount of certainty that things haven’t drastically changed since then. The main source of entertainment in Kernville, besides laughing at chumps like me who live in the L.A. rat race, is white river rafting on the Kern River. Draining south from the Sierra Nevada Mountains the Kern River has also been referred to as the “Killer Kern” for its propensity to drown people (especially stupid ones).

“Why the hell all this river talk, buddy? I’m here read about beer, not some hackneyed Fodor’s like account of a town I will probably never visit.” The reason I mention the river, smart guy, is because beer is about 90% water, thus the quality and type of water a brewer uses has a profound impact on what the beer tastes like. Just ask the folks at Burton-on-Trent, douchey. Question my meandering narrative again and I’ll box your ears!

Kern River Brewing was founded in June 2006 by a triumvirate of overachievers. One thing you should know about me is there is nothing in this world that I loathe more than overachievers. Overachievers make us all look bad. If it weren’t for overachievers, mediocrity would be exceptional and therefore I would be exceptional.

These three particular overachievers are Kyle Smith, the brewer, who before being a master brewer fought raging infernos in the remote California wilderness for the United States Forest Service. Overachiever number two is Eric Giddens; he has a PhD in Oceanography and looks like a slimmer, handsomer version of the old school Brawny Guy (not the new one who looks like Meat from “Porky’s.”) The final and perhaps most infuriating member of the Kern Brewing team is Rebecca Giddens, she’s just a world champion kayaker and Olympic silver medalist. My theory is that the brewery is actually a cover and these three are really members of a top secret special operations force protecting us from the forces of evil. Maybe so, but they’re still overachievers and for that reason I was really hoping I wouldn’t like their beer.

Kern’s most well known beer is their aptly named “Just Outstanding IPA” which I’m not going to review this time because I’ve always been a person whose taken the road less traveled (or so I thought until I walked into a friend’s room in high school and he had the exact same Jim Morrison, Taxi Driver, and Pink Floyd Animals posters as me.) I said earlier that destiny was responsible for me choosing this post’s particular beer; well destiny in this case was the $5.35 price tag of Kern’s Class V Stout. When I first picked up the bottle I was undecided until I saw the 8.5% abv. I calculated my soon-to-be-patented abv formula that stipulates: if there's a beer you haven't tried and each percentage point of alcohol is less than a dollar, you must buy it immediately. I hip-checked the cute Winona Ryder-looking girl filling her basket with Aventinus (pre-crazy, pre-shoplifting Winona) and bum-rushed the counter.

Like pretty much every stout, Class V is a gorgeous sight, it’s like the Monolith from Kubrick’s 2001 except this Monolith has an active mocha-colored head that leaves some decent lacing. The beer hits the front of the tongue with subtle dark chocolate sweetness and a wee dram of espresso (yes, I said it, wee dram). After that, the roasted barley takes the lead and pretty much dominates throughout. The finish has some lingering roasty and hop bitterness with the 8.5% abv showing itself only slightly. Now I’m going to confess that I actually drank this beer on two separate occasions. (I make many sacrifices for this blog.) The first bomber I drank, which was about a week before the second, Class V seemed more chocolate forward with the roasted barley working more in the background.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me about craft beer is how the same beer can provide such different experiences. People often talk about pallets evolving or maybe you ate a bunch of pigs-in-a-blanket beforehand or possibly the recipe was tweaked or it was unintentionally aged in your friend’s Bronco 2. The list goes on and on. I don’t want to dismiss the impact of such things but I’m of the opinion that one’s mood and mindset play as big of a role as any of those variables. Things like, when was the last time you had a beer: 10 minutes ago or 10 days ago? Were you at your best friend’s bachelor party or his couples baby shower? Did you just river a flush or bet on the Raiders? The perception of a beer, like any work of art, can be heavily influenced by one’s mood and environment.

I remember one night several years ago after getting a job that I thought would change my life (it didn’t): Amstel Light tasted better than Skittles to a meth-head. When I tried to drink it another time it was the same flavorless watered-down beer. Class V on the other hand was excellent both times, just in different ways. To me this is a signature of a great beer, it can come at you in several different ways yet still maintain a consistent thread. I’m not ready to put Class V in my Hall of Fame (that takes years of additional batches and many more hazy memories at its hands) but I see a long-term relationship looming on the horizon.

That finally brings me to my disturbing conclusion: yes the overachievers win again, but I’m used to that. What really disturbs me is they did it making beer. Why do they have to exert their relentless drive and can-do attitude on the beverage of choice for many of us underachievers? Is there no refuge from them? Perhaps not, but at least this time they gave me something to drink away the irritation.

Kern River Brewing Class V
Imperial Stout
8.5% abv
$5.35 for a bomber
$:) $:) $:)

The Squeakquel

When it comes to the hierarchy of the best beer cities in California there’s San Francisco, San Diego and everybody else. In the everybody else category is the Golden State’s capital city Sacramento. Since its founding 22 years ago in midtown Sacramento, Rubicon Brewery has played a vital role in California’s financial meltdown. The more I learn about this state’s fiscal crisis and the politicians who helped create it I can think of no explanation other than drunkenness. The beer at Rubicon must be so good that even the smallest window between votes is seen as an opportunity by legislators to jump into a brewery-bound cab (only a one short mile away from the Capitol building), down 4 or 5 pints, then back to the Capitol for some critical decision making. In fact it's rumored that one politician got so drunk on Rubicon’s ales that he thought Arnold Schwarzenegger was governor.

Before I get to the actual beer review I have to say that I really like the name of this brewery (once I figured out what it meant.) I consider myself somewhat astute on historical matters, I have a degree in history and still read the occasional book, but sadly I had to summon the Google Gods to find out where the word Rubicon comes from. For those of you who are as unworldly as I, Rubicon refers to the small river in northern Italy that Caesar and his army crossed to attack Pompeii thus shattering the Roman Republic and setting Rome on a course of dynastic rule. However, if not for Caesar crossing the Rubicon we may have never experienced Bob Guccione’s monumental “Caligula.” Rubicon’s most common usage, according to Dictionary.com, means “to take a decisive, irrevocable step.” Let me use it in a sentence in case you’re drunk: Heidi Montag’s decision to get triple D breast implants made her cross the Rubicon, ensuring she will team-up with Tila Tequila for a new reality show. (I will try to keep the celeb references to a minimum, but my wife has a subscription to Us Weekly magazine and I can only stare at the bathroom tile for so long.)

I picked up a bomber of Rubicon’s IPA for $3.99 at my local bottle shop. The bottle was dated 2/16/10 so not the freshest but within the range of acceptability. As I said, I love the name but their logo needs an update. A fedora wearing silhouetted figure holding a beer mug seems more fitting for the Godfather’s Pizza chain than a northern California microbrewery. Why not a rendition of Caesar’s fateful crossing or Heidi’s Vesuvius like behemoths? But label aside the possibility of discovering a go-to IPA that doesn’t break the bank is always too tempting to pass up.

The beer pours a light, semi-translucent amber with an active white head. In the looks department I’d give it a solid 7 out of 10. The nose is surprisingly malt forward with caramel sweetness taking the lead and citrus orange hops playing underneath. The nose reminded me more of a barley wine than an IPA. For the most part the taste follows the nose. There’s some mild caramel sweetness and citrus initially that picks up steam and spreads its wings over the middle. The sweetness transitions smoothly to a strong lingering hoppy bitterness that makes for a solid finale. It seemed to pack a little more of a punch than the stated 6.5% abv. The mouthfeel is a little sugar heavy with some noticeable slickness and like the nose seems more reminiscent of a barley wine.

This leads me to a question I often toil with when evaluating beer. If a beer fails to live up to your preconceived notions of style does that mean it’s a failure? I think most reasonable people would say no, however a beer that departs too heavily from our taste expectations can cause a disappointing experience. If you think you ordered “Girls Gone Wild: Sexy Spinners” on pay per view but get “Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel” instead you’re going to be disappointed or in my case destroy your hotel room in a fit of rage that would make Keith Moon proud. But let’s say you decide to watch The Squeakquel and it cracks you up, shouldn’t that be more important than whether you got the right movie or not? Yes, I know this analogy breaks down in all kinds of ways and I should have never started it in the first place but the point is if something is good but not in the way you expected it to be good it’s still good, right?

I know adherence of style is an important component of judging beer but I also believe our preconceptions of what a style should be are often too narrow when you consider the wide diversity within certain styles (i.e. IPA, Stouts, etc.). While I think it’s important to be vigilant of style, it shouldn’t be the overriding factor in evaluating a beer. One additional thought, "The Squeakquel" is a really horrible movie. The fact it made millions of dollars is further evidence that humanity needs a savior more than ever.

Initially, this beer threw me off with its strong malt profile but ultimately it won me over. If you’re expecting a traditional west coast IPA with strong piney grapefruit flavors then look elsewhere. However, if you want an IPA that isn’t afraid to let its malts shine with a solid flavor progression then pick one up. With tax and deposit it will only cost you around $4.50. I didn’t find my new go-to IPA but I did broaden my perception of what an IPA can be and caught a decent buzz in the process. Beer is great.

Rubicon IPA
American IPA
6.5% abv
$3.99 for a bomber
$:) $:)

(Caesar photo courtesy of karenswhimsy.com)
(Heidi Montag photo courtesy of Funnyordie.com via Huffingtonpost.com)
(Rubicon Beer photo courtesy beerandmicrobrews.com)

This Bear Can Run Downhill

For the past 15 years Bear Republic has been brewing some of the finest craft beers in the country. Founded by the Norgorve family in 1995, Bear is located smack dab in the middle of Sonoma County. In a region that produces some of the world’s finest wines Richard R. Norgorve and family held up their collective middle-finger for all the wine snobs in world to see and said we’re gonna build a kick ass brewery in your house! Okay, I just completely made that up, but as far as I’m concerned starting a brewery in Sonoma County would be like opening a Scientology visitor center in downtown Tehran. Perhaps I’m exaggerating a little, but whether they want to or not the Norgorve family embodies the go-it-alone, rebellious streak that most founders of great craft breweries possess.

When people think of Bear Republic the first beer they think of is the ubiquitous Racer 5. Despite its association with Speed Racer, a cartoon that I wanted to like but never could, I consider Racer 5 one of the standard bearers for the American IPA style. Yes, I know you can go on Beer Advocate and find many IPAs that are rated higher, but in terms of accessibility and quality it’s difficult to find an American IPA that surpasses it. But this post isn’t about Racer. I’m here to discuss another beer in the Bear Republic arsenal that packs a bigger punch and is one of the top craft beer values out there.

Before I talk about the actual beer I have to talk about the awesome label. It has a bear on it and bears are really cool. They’re big, powerful, deceptively fast and despite what Silvio Dante said they can run downhill. What I’m trying to say is never underestimate the importance of a well-designed, eye-catching label and Big Bear Black Stout has just that. I’ve had a few people tell me that the label reminds them of the California state flag which they immediately associate with bankruptcy, natural disasters, and famous people with no discernable talents like the Kardashians. Fair enough but I still like it.

When you crack open the bottle and pour it into your favorite glass you’re immediately hit with an enticing bouquet of hops, dark chocolate, and coffee that makes you want to skip any further analysis and get straight to the drinking. I really do love the smell of this beer and if Old Spice decided to create a new Big Bear Black Stout body spray I’d dump my Swagger in a second.

As you would expect this one pours bold, black and beautiful. Throw in the eye-pleasing mocha head and you may start catcalling like a New York City construction worker.

When I finally get to the drinking I pick up minimal sweetness on the tip with the hops and roasted barley taking control over the middle and beyond. Underneath the hops and roasted barley are some well integrated coffee and dark chocolate flavors. The finish is comfortably bitter with some residual dark chocolate. The alcohol is well hidden but exerts itself just enough on the finish to let you know that this is an imperial.

Big Bear is deftly balanced, complex, all the while being extremely drinkable. At 8.1% the abv is calibrated so you can drink a bomber by yourself while catching a decent buzz without feeling too many of the effects the next day. One theory I have related to abv is the difference between an 8% and a 10% beer is exponentially greater than just 2%. I liken it to the Richter scale. The Richter scale is logarithmic; each increase of one unit represents a 10-fold increase in magnitude. When I drink a bomber (or two) that is 10% or more as opposed to one that is 8% I feel much drunker and the next day I’m substantially more hung over.

One of my favorite urban myth drinking stories that relates to this is about a guy who gets blackout drunk one night at home by himself. He wakes up the next morning with a nagging feeling that he did something really, really stupid the night before. He frantically checks his apartment, his car, and the outgoing calls on his cell phone. Everything appears to be fine and he enjoys a tremendous sense of relief between dry heaves. Three days later he gets home from work with a mysterious box sitting on his doorstep. He opens it and inside is the entire series of “Mama’s Family” on VHS. It turns out he didn’t escape his night of drunkenness totally unscathed. I contend that the difference between an 8% beer and a 10% one is with the 10% beer you order the entire series of “Mama’s Family” on VHS, with the 8% beer you order two seasons of T.J. Hooker on DVD. At 8.1% Big Bear is in the optimal abv range and should keep the poor decision making at a manageable level.

Now on to the all important consideration of price. Last year at this time I purchased a bomber of Big Bear for $3.99, this year at the same store I picked one up for $4.49. For those of you who care that is about a 13% increase. (I don’t know whether the increase is driven by the brewer or retailer.) Even with the price hike Big Bear still remains a fantastic value at around $5.00. It can go up against any number of imperial stouts that push the $7 plus mark and walk away the winner on taste alone. Please do yourself and your craft drinking friends a favor and go buy some. In fact buy a lot. Now if you will excuse me I have some “Mama’s Family” VHS tapes to box, another drunk has fallen prey.

Bear Republic Big Bear Black Stout

Russian Imperial Stout

8.1% abv

$4.49 for a bomber

$:) $:) $:) $:)

(Big Bear Black Stout photo courtesy of 30BeersIn30Days.post@blogger.com)
(Mama photo courtesy of mamasfamilysite.proboards.com)

The purpose of this here blog

Hi, my name is Scott and I'm here to answer one simple question, is the beer I just drank worth the cost. Okay, I may occasionally stray from the subject and deal with other meaningful questions like the meaning of life or why Roy Rogers, Hardee's, and Carl’s Jr. are so much alike yet have different names.

Craft beer is getting more expensive. I wish I had a mind blowing stat for you but I speak from personal experience. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing because the driver of these rising prices are more complex and time consuming brewing techniques that have resulted in some truly remarkable and innovative beers. However, with rising costs and more people willing to pay them there inevitably come products that don’t reflect their actual value. I’m sure there's an economic term for this but I barely passed Macro.

As far as my pallet is concerned, it falls on the lower end of the sophistication scale, but fortunately the purpose of this blog isn’t to meticulously dissect flavor profiles, it’s to analyze craft beer through the lens of price. What makes me qualified do this? Very simple, I’m a cheap bastard.

Just to warn you this blog will have a pretty heavy West Coast bias. It’s not because I don’t like beers from other regions (Victory is one of my favorite breweries) it’s just that I buy what’s available here in Los Angeles. I haven’t plunged into the world of trading because attaching the painstaking ritual of preparing and sending packages to enjoying a fine craft beer is something I’m just not prepared to do.

Here’s a simplistic scale that I’ve come up with to evaluate beers in terms of cost.

$:) = Okay deal

$:) $:) = Good deal

$:) $:) $:) = Damn good deal

$:) $:) $:) $:) = Fantastic deal!

$:) $:) $:) $:) $:) = horde this beer immediately even it means getting a cash advance on your Discover Card.

It’s brilliant I know. I think I might try to trademark it like Trump tried to with “you’re fired.” Thanks for reading.