Posted on March 8, 2016
7 Beers for 7 Years
As of a couple of weekends ago, my wife Kamina and I have been married for seven years.
That’s not a short amount of time. I mean, it’d be longer if we were dogs—then we would have been married for 49 years, apparently. But even as humans, seven years is a fair chunk of time. (Of course, not many dogs get married, so it’s hardly a fair comparison.)
We celebrated our anniversary by going to the Sunshine Coast for the weekend for fun and relaxation. And as you may guess of a couple of people who share a passion for craft beer, we decided to include drinking some tasty brews in our celebration.
After an hour and a half on the road, we rocked up to our holiday apartment and did what anyone in their right mind should do—dumped our bags and headed straight to the bar.
‘The bar’ was our favourite Caloundra watering hole: Blackwater Trading Co, at Moffat Beach. It’s a cafe/craft beer bar that’s also recently become home to the Moffat Beach Brewing Co. Great little spot.
It was a hot afternoon and we were ready to melt straight into holiday mode. So after our little road trip to the coast, I had myself a big Road Trip, by Holgate Brewing.
It teetered between a sweet start and a bitter finish—a gentle brew to lap away at the weariness of the day while the waves lapped away at the sand in front of us.
After our switch-off beer and some of Blackwater’s signature handcut chips, we headed back to the apartment with some takeaway (Nepalese food for Kamina, chips for me)(have I mentioned I like chips?) and settled down in front of Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a Dark Red IPA by Six String Brewing Company, the first of 6 beers we’d brought with us.
Now, if you haven’t tasted this drop before, you need to get onto it. This was the end of a six pack I got for Christmas, and the moment I finished it I felt ready to go buy some more. The bitterness starts the moment it hits your mouth, but isn’t overpowering. The caramel malts have a stand-off against the hops, and it’s not clear who the winner is. It all plays beautifully together. And because, for some reason, red ales and red IPAs are generally harder to get your hands on in bottle shops than they should be, it’s nice that Six Strings always has a six pack of these bad boys waiting for me on a shelf somewhere.
The next day, 20 hours into our 40 our holiday (really never long enough, is it?), we cracked open a Brown by Mornington Peninsula, and a Red Smoke by Red Hill Brewery.
I’d had the Brown before, but was again surprised at how smooth it is. Caramel and toffee and raisins and milk chocolate and cola all roll over your tongue together, and you can’t help but close your eyes.
The Red Smoke almost has the opposite effect: rather than relax you, it puts your senses on high alert. It’s an opaque burnt orange colour—you can almost see the smoke, which emanates from the glass with gusto. It fills your nose with savoury smoke tinged with sweetness, like you’re smelling a plate of bacon smothered with maple syrup. The smoke in the flavour is a little less intense, and comes through more as peat, while the sweetness is more like dried fruit. This was a beer that gripped all of your attention and wouldn’t let go until you were finished, and even then hung around in the background for as long as it could. Nice flavours, but perhaps a little too much of an assault on my tongue for my liking.
A few hours after those, we were ready to see the water again, so after a little beach time we headed back to Blackwater for some Modus Operandi Pale Ale.
Is it just me, or does Modus Operandi have the Midas touch? Their Total Eclipse and Former Tenant are two of my favourite beers. Now, granted, those are more the kind of big-flavoured beers I go for… but here they’ve taken the humble pale ale, and ensured that it’s a pure wash of hoppy goodness. Great stuff, MO! (And of course, more handcut chips. Because… why not?)
That evening, the temperature finally dropped a little, which brought a perfect opportunity for a spa. Read: the perfect opportunity for spa beers!
We began with Erik the Red, by Mikeller.
I heard of Erik the Red quite some time ago, and I’ve had it on my wishlist ever since. But when I finally got a chance to try it, it didn’t hold up to my expectations. I’m actually hoping it was a bad bottle, and not how it usually is. The nose was very promising: sweet fruits, red berries, beautiful red ale pickings. But the drink itself delivered mostly just bitterness. Not what I’m after in a red ale. I’ll certainly give it another try if I get a chance, just in case. But for now, at least, it was a let down.
The Santa Paws was also a little bit of a let down. It wasn’t bad. There was nothing negative about it. The flavour was nice enough, but it lacked body. It had whispers of a complex and boozy scotch ale, but I reckon it could’ve done with another 3 or 4 percent ABV to give it some more oomph.
The next morning, as we packed up to leave our apartment and head home, I remembered that we’d only had 5 of the beers we’d brought.
“How do you feel about a morning beer in the sun?” I asked Kamina. Her face lit up much in the same way a child’s would if I asked it, “How do you feel about ice cream, puppies, and going to the movies?” (Well, let’s be honest—those things would make me pretty happy too.)
So we sat outside and cracked it open. The smooth subdued toffee and soft bitterness brought on a satisfied “Ahhh…”, as the warmth from the morning sun washed over us and the cool beer trickled down our throats. The occasional morning beer sure does work wonders for the soul.
With our final bottle finished, we headed home (stopping off for some final chips before we left the beach, of course!)(okay I might have a problem). But just because our time at the coast was over doesn’t mean our anniversary weekend was over. That evening we got together with some friends of ours to taste our way through the Stone & Wood range. That’s just the way we roll.
With love and laughter and concentration and light-heartedness, we enjoyed the soft floral notes of Garden Ale; the cloudy, ripe banana goodness of the Green Coast Lager; the rich apricot smell, and soft apricot flavour of the Cloud Catcher, chased up by its gentle bitterness; the passionfruity twinge of the classic Pacific Ale; the smooth chocolatey caramelly Rolo-tasting velvet of the Jasper Ale; and finally, the spice and tang of the Forager.
And that was the end of our seventh anniversary celebration weekend.
From before I even sat down to write this post, I thought ‘7 Beers for 7 Years’ had a really nice ring to it. But there was just one problem: whichever way I tried to bend it, however I tried to justify or categorise it, I couldn’t make it total 7 beers any way you look at it. We took 6; we drank 2 out; we had 6 once we got back to Brisbane. I decided to stick with the title out of sheer stubbornness and creative frustration, but alas, the ‘7 beers’ part of the title is false.
However, the ‘7 years’ bit is true. And for all the hard times that come in a marriage of 7 years to date, there are also really good times, including anniversary weekends where we hang out and drink great beer together. And while I won’t get all gushy, I wanna say I’m pretty stoked to be married to Kamina, and plan on hitting a number of anniversaries that are multiples of 7. (And probably the ones in between, too.)
P.S. After thinking about this title for over two weeks, I just realised while writing this post that we tasted 7 beers on our actual anniversary (the last day). Whaddaya know—the title works after all!
Posted on February 15, 2016
Beer: My Valentine.
Nowadays, people often celebrate February 14th with chocolates and cartoon love hearts, while forgetting the humble beginnings of the tradition of Valentine’s Day. History tells us that in 273 A.D., on February 14th, Saint Valentine fell from his horse when he was struck by a stray arrow fired by a local hunter, Ignatius Cupid. The wounded Valentine, in thorough agony and basically just having a very bad day, dragged his sorry self to the nearest tavern for a meal and several tankards of ale. After losing an awful lot of blood and imbibing much nasty ancient beer, he proceeded to vomit in a rosebush outside. The kindly barmaid helped him in his time of need, and when he awoke to see her by his side at the local physician’s house, he subsequently fell in love with her. They married exactly one year later, and February 14th was remembered and celebrated for its great contribution to their romance. (Note: Please do some fact-checking before quoting me on the details.)
My wife Kamina and I like to adhere to the traditional origins of such holidays, and so we decided to do something nice and simple: she would prepare a tasty meal for us to enjoy, and I would match it with a few choice beers from our beer shelf. Low fuss, but hey, we’re low fuss kinda people.
Aperitif
First, we wanted an aperitif while the food was being prepared. It was a hot day, so I wanted something that would be light and refreshing, but since we weren’t eating anything with it, I wanted something flavourful that would open up our tastebuds. (A little trivia for you: the word ‘aperitif’ comes from the Latin ‘to open’, and is indeed meant to ‘open’ the appetite… although earlier usage of the word denoted a laxative, and referred to ‘opening’ something else. Isn’t language fun?!)
I picked the intriguing Knappstein Reserve Lager, “a super premium Bavarian style lager crafted by a master winemaker and brewer to reflect wine characteristics in style, structure and complexity”.
It poured a clear soft lemon colour, and the head dissipated immediately. We breathed in, and were rewarded with a sweet, floral aroma (very fitting for Valentine’s Day), which I wasn’t expecting from a lager. Our first sip then confirmed that this was no run-of-the-mill, singlet-and-thongs lager. This was more a suit-and-tie-French-accent kind of lager. It drank like a well-balanced white wine, equal parts sweet and dry. Close your eyes, and you’re walking through a field of flowers with a glass of crisp Riesling. A pleasant experience indeed. Good pick, Mick.
Entree
We swilled the last sip of our wine-flower-lager, and it was time for our salad. Wifey had made a rocket/fennel/asparagus salad with grapefruit, walnuts, and balsamic, so I decided I wanted something crisp and fresh that wouldn’t butt heads with those strong flavours. I chose a Courage blonde ale by Cavalier Brewing, poured us a couple of glasses, and we sat on the floor of our living room with some Parisian music playing (okay I swear it was much more low key than it sounds).
At first, when I saw the sediment and persistent head, I thought the Courage might be a stronger tasting beer than I’d expected. But it turned out to be just what I was looking for: a salad in beer form, like crunchy lettuce and subtle croutons. (Kamina described it as “subtle malt flavour with some fruit coming through”… I’d just figured that was the grapefruit!)
Main
Right. A salad and salad-y beers are all well and good to begin with, but now I was ready for something substantial. Something you can chew. Our main dish was conchiglioni (big ole’ pasta shells that you could totally fit a golf ball into) stuffed with pumpkin, tofu, spinach, and shallots, and all blanketed with ajvar (tangy red capsicum relish) and fried cherry tomatoes. This was going to need something with a bit more punch than a lager or blonde ale.
I decided to go with a tried and tested beer: Shepherd Neame’s India Pale Ale. This was the only beer of the night I’d tasted before (and talked about in more detail in a previous post), but I thought the caramelly maltiness would kick through the bite of the ajvar. I think the sweetness was slightly lost among the ajvar and pumpkin, but it wasn’t a big problem—it just brought more of the biscuity character out to play. It definitely still worked.
Dessert
Now, we were originally going to have strawberries and dark chocolate for dessert (with just a dusting of cliche), and so I’d picked an appropriate dark beer to match: Little Creatures’ Return of the Dread. As it turns out, our chocolate had weevils in it. Personally, I thought stout would go well with weevil, but Kamina thought we should just throw the chocolate out. (Wasteful.) So instead, we walked to the local gelateria (okay it turns out the second half of the night definitely was a living breathing cliche after all) and had some fantastic it-tastes-exactly-like-fruit-except-cold sorbet. Unfortunately, I made the call that the gelati place probably wouldn’t appreciate us smuggling in a beer, so we waited until we got home to have our Dread.
It was dark and roasty, quite smooth drinking, and definitely would’ve done well with some dark chocolate. (But I shouldn’t complain—at least we didn’t end the night with an arrow wound, vomiting into a rosebush.)
Friends, I can certainly recommend the multi-stage dinner with matched (in some way) beers as a way to celebrate some minor calendar event. Particularly if you can snag a great conversationalist to share it with.
Just go easy on the cliches, okay?
Posted on January 27, 2016
Newstead Brewing played a crafty trick on me
I accidentally had a carefree night drinking beer the other night.
It wasn’t the plan. It just sort of snuck up on me. I’ve had a mixed sixpack of Newstead Brewing beers sitting on my shelf for a while (courtesy of Newstead Brewing’s brand ambassador, Darren, who also runs 250beers.com), waiting for the day I’d sit down with a friend and to taste our way through them. We’d take notes, compare, pick our favourites, and walk away with a detailed record of the event. We’d have six new entries in our palate encyclopaedia.
We started off on the right track. I got a photo of all 6 beers, all artsy-like.
I figured out the order we’d drink them in, and cracked open the 3 Quarter Time Session Ale. We meted it out between three of us, sniffed, and tasted, and discussed how fresh and crisp it was. I jotted down a few notes, of course.
But straight away, the cracks began to show. Problem #1: We started to have meaningful conversation.
When we finished that, we moved on to the Mayne Thing Golden Ale. I wrote a single word to describe it—malty. (“Just one word? Surely it deserves more nuance than that!”)
Kept chatting. Problem #2: Someone told a joke, and the rest of us laughed (we’re all to blame, I suppose). Then—and I can’t believe I’m admitting to this—we took a break from our tasting, and had dinner. Tasty dinner. It was at this stage, when the beer clearly lost our undivided attention, that I should have noticed the disaster closing in on us. We were having reckless fun instead of focusing only on our beer tasting experience.
After this we had the Out and a Bout Pale Ale. I have vague memories of delicious hoppiness, but these are crowded out by memories of enjoyable times sitting on the carpet, sharing stories, trying to find something comfortable to lean back on.
Next up was the Liquidambar Amber Ale. The sweet caramelly goodness wasn’t appreciated in its own right, but only as a positive augment to a delightful time hanging out. And even then, I only had a few sips of it before it was knocked over by a child (“The children weren’t locked away? The beer wasn’t kept out of reach, guarded, and watched at all time? What kind of beer-tasting was this?!”) Luckily, the shape of the glass meant that a single sip was salvaged.
By the time we opened the Two to the Valley India Pale Ale, there was not even a semblance of note-taking. (Interestingly, I ended up accidentally deleting the sparse notes I had taken of the first few beers. So I have nothing written down—only my memories of the tasting, which are tainted by flashes of smiling and warm feelings.) At this point we even started to play a game, throwing aside any farce of having the beer as the centre of the social engagement.
The 21 Feet 7 Inches Porter managed to join the conversation for a little while, interjecting with its robust cocoa flavour. But as it didn’t stick around for as long as the other people in the conversation, it soon faded into the distance as other, non-beer topics took over.
And that was that. Apart from the lovely pyramid that the bottles made a little later (with the help of one of Instagram’s favourite lasses, @beergirlworld ), the beer tasting was over.
I remember enjoying all six. I remember a few of the delicious flavours rolling over my tongue. But unfortunately, Newstead Brewing’s core range beers implanted themselves on my mind not solely by the delicate balance of flavours, but because they assisted me in having a great night with my friends.
So beware. You may think you’re safe, because you have discipline and discernment and focus, but if you get those beers, you might find yourself in the same pitfall as I did—lured into an enjoyable and memorable night with good people, with great beer only featuring as an accessory to fun.
You’ve been warned.
Updated on December 30, 2018
5 tips for enjoying beer this Summer (like you need any!)
I have a complicated relationship with beer in Summer.
“What’s so complicated?” you ask. “Summer is hot. Beer is cold and delightful. Therefore, drink beer!”
I’d like it to be that simple. I really would. And perhaps one day I will be filthy rich and live on a tropical island and Jeeves will source my beer from around the world and bring it to me as I lounge on my inflatable crocodile. But until this is the case, it’s not a simple time for me.
It’s hot and sunny, and so I want to drink plenty of beer. But I need to conserve money for a lot of Christmas expenses, and for the multitude of social engagements I’m a part of throughout December and January, and so I try not to buy too much beer.
I get a lot of opportunities to spend time with friends and family, so I want to share beers with people I love. But I also know I’m going to be eating a whole lot more food and drink than usual, and so in the interests of not doubling in size, I try not to drink too much beer.
Then of course there’s the dilemma that faces every beer lover all year round, but is exacerbated during Summer. “I love drinking beer with people. But I also love drinking beer peacefully on my own.” I have the joy of community and relationships tugging at one of my arms, and the blissful meditation of enjoying a chilled brew in solitude tugging at my other arm. This means that I need to employ some discernment, restraint and delayed gratification if I’m going to avoid making some unwise life decisions (ie drinking a beer every time I think, “Mmm, a beer would be nice right about now”).
See what I mean by ‘confusing’?
So in order to keep my bank account from getting too small, my belly from getting too big, and yet still take great pleasure in a can/bottle/glass, I have a few guidelines that I try to keep in mind.
Schoonerversity’s 5 tips for enjoying beer this Summer (like you need help to enjoy beer!)
1. When someone asks you what you want for Christmas, say, “Beer, please.”
When people ask me this question, I used to say, “I don’t really need anything.” I mean, most of us don’t really need anything, do we? And when we get given presents by people we really love, who are really generous and well-intentioned, we often say, “Thanks so much!” while thinking “…but I don’t really want this.”
If you want to appreciate your presents more, feel much more genuine gratitude toward loved ones, and get plenty of great beer all at the same time, it’s quite simple—ask for it. Gift vouchers for your favourite bottle shop or bar, six-packs or cartons of your favourite beer, or assortments of beers you haven’t tried before. It’s up to you how broad or specific your requests are, but take it from someone who’s enjoying them right now: these will give you great joy over the coming weeks and months.
(I know it’s a little late to hear this AFTER Christmas, but it’ll serve you well next Christmas, and it holds true for birthdays, too!)
2. Really, truly enjoy your beers.
Tell me if you’ve done this before: you’ve got a new beer in your hand, and you drink it over the course of the next 10-30 minutes while talking with friends or watching TV or eating a meal. But by the time you’ve finished it, you think to yourself, “…I don’t remember what that tasted like.”
I kick myself every time I do that. Because it generally means I’ve just consumed a beer without actually enjoying it. Which was the reason I got the beer in the first place.
When you get a beer, stop for a second. Have a smell of it, and savour the first and second sip. You don’t need to make a big deal of it, or spend ten minutes ignoring the people around you so you can record the experience. But taking that moment to reflect on and appreciate what you’re drinking will make a memory of that beer, and when you get to the end, you’ll be able to relish that beer in your mind for a lot longer than you did in your mouth.
3. Lower your standards (sometimes).
Now, this might seem like a contradiction to the last point. And I know it’s bordering on heresy for some of us beer snobs. (If you think reading this point may tempt you to burn me at the stake, please skip to the next one!) But it’s all about context.
I reckon there’s a time and a place to drink bad beer.
There are two contexts I’m thinking of when you can wring a good beer experience from not-good beer. The first (less important) one is the it’s-so-hot-that-any-beer-would-go-down-well-right-now. This is also sometimes called the after-mowing-beer. You know the scene: you’re sweating like a pig, your mouth is dry, and that icy cold liquid gold brings on a whole body feeling of euphoria. It might be a micro-batch single-hopped IPA that was brewed lovingly to Beethoven’s 5th… or it might be a Tooheys. Yet somehow, somewhere between the 90% humidity and the blazing ball of fire watching your every move, the playing field has been levelled just enough that any beer is worth drinking. It’s primal. It’s tradition. It’s Australian. (It’s also economical, if you’ve kept your eyes peeled for dirt-cheap beers in the bargain bin at your local bottle-o!)
The second context is the more important one. It’s called the people-are-more-important-than-beer principle. This is when you’re with friends or family and someone says, “You want a beer?” and you say, “Yeah, cheers” and knock back the Hahn Super Light that’s been offered to you. In this case, the enjoyment of the beer experience may not come from the beer itself, but from the act of sharing a beer with people you love. Of course, it’s perfectly acceptable to say, “No, thanks” and have some Coke or water. But it’s never okay to say, “I refuse to touch the peasant swill that you find acceptable! Begone, Sewage Swallower, before I glass you with my Spiegelau!” Because it’s better to be a beer connoisseur than a beer jerk.
4. Take on a couple of habits to help offset your beer intake
As much as it saddens us all to remember it, beer isn’t a health food. And you don’t have to be a super health nut to wish to keep the beer gut and liver damage to a minimum. If you’re drinking more beer than usual, try to match that with a few habits or activities to offset some of it. Whether it’s going to the gym or going for walks in the evening, guzzling iced water at every opportunity or sticking to light breakfasts, any of these can do their bit to extend your life and reduce your guilt—even if it’s only a little bit!
5. Drink a beer in the pool at least once over the course of Summer.
Seriously. Do yourself a favour. There’s nothing like it.
If you have any more tips for enjoying beer over Summer, I’d love to hear them! (If you don’t—I don’t need your help. I’ll enjoy it all on my own.)
Updated on November 18, 2015
Eight that are great to share with a mate
Over the past couple of weeks, among all the decent beers, I’ve had the pleasure of trying a number of stand-out beers that I thought I’d recommend—two pales, two reds, two darks, and two strongs.
Of course, my preference would be to sit down with you and drink them together with you (ideally with a bowl of chips). But in place of sharing the beers with you, I’ll share my thoughts on them. Hope you get your hands on a few of them, and that they bring you the joy they brought me. (And if you want to bring me in to re-live the delight, hey, I won’t say no.)
Pale
American Pale Ale by Bacchus Brewing (pictured far right)
This APA is all about the gentle hoppy sweetness. It’s a perfect afternoon beer. (Reminded me a bit of James Squire Hop Thief 7, which I tried recently and was pleasantly surprised by.)
Kraken IPA by Bacchus Brewing (pictured second from left)
Big aroma of tangy fruit, followed by bigger flavour of bright fruit and smooth spiced rum, coming together in this beer of legendary greatness. I will tell tales about this allegedly mythological beast. This wasn’t the first time the Kraken has risen up to attack me, and I hope it wasn’t the last. Drag me under, O Mighty Kraken, and drown me in a sea of you.
Red
Red Trolley Ale by Karl Strauss Brewing
Wowsers. All of the strawberry jam in the nose. And it tastes of creaming soda. An incredible, sweet red ale.
West Coast Red Rye IPA by 4 Pines
Another exciting Keller Door from 4 Pines. A little spice from the rye, and plenty of sweetness from the red. Goes well with onion rings, that’s for sure!
Dark
Oatmeal Stout by Bacchus Brewing (pictured far left)
Oh so creamy! Like melted ice cream straight out of the tap. Fills your mouth with dark hazelnut and chocolate.
The Bollox Black Double IPA by Bacchus Brewing (pictured second from right)
It’s big and dark, but the darkness doesn’t hide the hops. Strong hops and dark liqueur on the tongue, with an incredibly silky mouthfeel.
Strong
Original by Innis & Gunn
Drinking this is like drinking a bourbon boilermaker. It is a confusing and magical experience.
Dirty Bastard by Founders Brewing
This. I could drink this all night. It starts with Snickers slash peanut brittle on the nose. But then when you sip it, it’s all thick and boozy all the way through. This scotch ale (like many scotch ales) is close to the perfect beer for me.
P.S. On the same night as the Dirty Bastard, there was a close runner-up: Curmudgeon Old Ale, also by Founders. Sweet bourbony goodness. Both of these were recommended by the bearded and beautiful Nick, at the Scratch. If you’re ever looking to try something new and great, he’s a good person to ask.
