The Session: The Golden Anniversary That Nearly Killed Me

For this month's The Session, we are taking a trip down memory lane to a time when Miller High Life and Genesee's Golden Anniversary were acceptable beer choices. This story is from October of 2004 on a trip to visit my friend Javen in Schenectady, NY. It has some graphic medical terminology, so if you are squeamish you may want to gloss over it a bit. Hope you enjoy.

Have you ever woken up with cotton-mouth? How about a sore throat? How about something hanging out of the back of your throat that feels like one of those sticky octopus things you used to get out of a vending machine that you would throw against the wall and it would climb down? No? Well, all you have to do is drink some beer that doesn't mix with your body or your internal food processing mechanisms and voila, you've got it!

This is a story of my swollen uvula. It's a story that's not for the squeamish, which means it's really not even a story for me. It only lasted but 6 hours or so, but friends, it was a six hours I'd like to forget.

The story starts this past Saturday. Visiting my friends, Javen and Justine (aka T.T., still don't know where that nickname came from), in Schenectady, NY, just a two-hour drive from my home in hardcore urban Syracuse, we had gone to dinner and watched a few innings of the Yankees-Red Sox blowout before heading back for a brief cocktail at the apartment and then out to hopefully more bars. Will was already bitter due to the Red Sox taking an 0-3 dive in the ALCS, and I was just happy to be drunk. We went to a small convenience store, where we looked for the cheapest possible selections. I chose my favorite, Miller High Life, the best cheap beer known to man. But what for our second selection? Which beer would serve a dual function as both an economically-prudent choice but also one that would please the tastebuds as well? The choice was simple: Golden Anniversary, proudly brewed in my hometown of Rochester, New York.

Sure it seemed like a great idea at the time, get some cheap brew to get lit up, then walk to the neighborhood watering holes and slow 'er down with the fancy stuff. As Javen and I embarked on a 6-hour political discussion, we began knocking back brew after brew. I started with the High Life, as is my custom. Even though it is summer no more, the best summer brew this side of Milwaukee was treating me just fine. Curiously, someone handed me a golden can of the Golden Anniversary, and it was just fine too. When you're as far in the bag as I was, you can't tell the difference. Interestingly, I felt no ill-effects while conscious. As 4:30 AM rolled around, Javen and I finally agreed to disagree about Bush and Kerry, and decided to fall asleep. I felt great, a little dizzy, but great.

After what I can only assume is the worst night of sleep in my entire life (the air mattress I slept on collapsed under my burly weight), I awoke around 8 AM and felt the curious sensation of having a deflated balloon attached to the roof of my mouth. I swallowed once and felt a large flap of something undulating in my throat. My first inclination was to assume William and Javen had played a mischievous prank on me by placing something in my mouth as I slept, and I briefly looked forward to the sure-to-follow digital photo documenting the hilarity at my expense. But when I realized everyone else was still comatose, I flipped the hell out.

I ran to the bathroom to check the inside of my mouth. It was too dark to see in the bathroom, so I had to turn the light on, but the marquee-style lighting was too bright for my sensitive eyes, so I had to pull of an idiotic-looking maneuver by which I tilted my head back, opened my mouth in the say-ahhh position, shielded my eyes like a visor and stared into the horrifying abyss that was my mouth. I saw two tongues: my actual tongue and the second one where my uvula (the little punching bag in the back of the throat) used to reside. But instead of the cute little cartoonish teardrop-shaped piece of skin or whatever the hell it is, I saw an elongated, misshapen blob that was resting on the back of my tongue. And if you think that's gross, imagine how I felt looking at the goddamn thing. I nearly passed out. In fact, I lied down on the bathroom floor momentarily to get my blood back into my head, and then wondered if blood in my head was good for my amorphous uvula. I actually considered taking steps to get blood out of my head. Not a good idea in hindsight, but this is how my affliction affected my thought-process.

So I did what anyone with such a medical condition would do: I went back to sleep in the hope that my condition would be gone when I woke up, or better yet that it was all a horrible dream. So I fell asleep for another 15 minutes, trying to dream my growth away. No dice. It felt like peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth, except in this case the peanut butter was my own flesh. Now, this didn't hurt, not at all. It was simply uncomfortable, and since I have apprehensions anyway about swallowing and my dubious gag reflex (no jokes, fellows!), it became incredibly irritating and somewhat frightening.

Most people might call a doctor for something like this. Since I hate doctors and hospitals, I did the next best thing and got on WebMD. I had remembered what a magnificient resource this had been when I had a bit of a hemorrhoid problem back in March of '03, and I thought, if anyone could help me, it would be WebMD. Double dang-it! The only thing it suggested to me was to get my tonsils out. I had been planning on doing that anyway, but not now, dammit!

Who is better than a doctor to cure this problem? Who? Think, damn you, think! Of course! My little brother, Mike, aka "Beach Justice." No, he is not a doctor, but he did graduate from SUNY Fredonia in 2002 or so and I remembered he had had a similar condition at one time. So I called him on my cellular wireless telephone. It was about 9AM and Mike is accustomed to waking up at ohhh about noon, so I wasn't expecting him to answer. The phone rang 4 or 5 times before I heard the glorious click and timbre of my brother's surprisingly alert voice answering his phone. I asked him to help me. "Please, brother, please!" He replied, "Calm down, my friend, let me walk you through it." In his most scholarly and medicinal voice, Mike gave me the clinical explanation. I've had a bad allergic reaction to some beer. Something about the wheat or the way they process it. Have I had this beer before? No. Did you drink at all last night? Yes, yes! Well there's your answer. Take some allergy medication and give it till day's end. Oh, thank you brother, thank you! TT, the absoulute peach that she is, drove to the store and got me some Benadryl. Though they didn't exactly perform open-heart surgery on me, Mike and TT saved my life.

I shouldn't have driven back to Syracuse after the Benadryl though. Future reference.

The Session: Independence Day Two-Fer

[Note: We have been remiss in contributing to The Session for a while, so I decided to throw one out there regarding two decidedly un-summer beers I had on the 4th of July.]

I spent the 4th of July with a fellow beergeek by the name of Bruce. In the course of the weekend, he introduced me to two beers to which I had not previously been exposed. (Naturally, we were not confined to only two beers for the day, but two really stood out.) One of these beers was a tremendously nice surprise, the other was a crushing disappointment.

Early on in the day, Bruce forced me to down a beer that he had been trying to convince me to have for months: Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine. It's not exactly barleywine season, but it really didn't matter with this beer.

First, let's see what the folks at Sierra Nevada themselves have to say about this beer (courtesy of RateBeer.com):

Gold Medal Winner, Great American Beer Festival (Ales: Brown, Bitter and Pale 1987, Barleywine 1988,1992,1995). Sierra Nevada Bigfoot is an award winning example of the English Barley Wine style. It boasts a dense, fruity bouquet; an extremely rich, intense, bittersweet palate; and a deep, reddish-brown color. This ale is superbly balanced between an almost overpowering maltiness and a wonderfully bittersweet hoppiness.

Bigfoot is a strong beer, to be sure. It's got all the usual trappings of a barleywine: it's thick (the color of mahogany, in case you were wondering), it's got a major alcohol aroma and flavor, a hard liquor-like burn on the way down and a juice-like thickness. But to me, what sets Bigfoot apart are (and if you know me I'll bet you could have guessed this) the hops.

Where most barleywines are content throwing a bunch of burnt malts and alcohol percentages at you, Sierra -- as they always do -- makes an overture toward those of us who need balance in our beers. The hops make this beer, and they make it one of my new favorite barleywines (Brooklyn Monster Ale, you've got company).

There is a major citrus and grapefruit quality to this beer that I found not only surprising but necessary. The beer has a very high alcohol content (just a smidge below 10%) and strong liqueur and malt flavors. But the hops, while adding a bitter respite, also add a needed sweetness that takes the edge off. It makes a man thankful that the United States expanded to the west coast to get dibs on those wonderful hops. I don't think I could have more than one in a row of this one, but the one to be had is outstanding.

After spending the rest of the day sampling various other offerings (including some nice choices like Wychwood Hobgoblin, Victory Whirlwind and Erie Brewing's Mad Anthony, among others), the time was nigh to get ready to go to sleep. For most sane people, beers at the end of the night are mild and easy to drink, so as to send one off to bed with a pleasant memory.

Of course, my friend Bruce is not at all sane, so he decided -- after midnight, mind you -- to break out the Samuel Adams Triple Bock. I had seen this beer, with its strange rubber-looking cork and 8-ounce bottle but never thought much of it. I have been drinking a few bocks lately but had never really been too familiar with this particular beer.

Again, let's have the fine folks at Sam Adams tell you what they think:

Triple Bock is complex, elegant, and has the depth and complexity of a fine cognac, vintage port or an old sherry. Non-carbonated, ruby-black, and very special, Triple Bock should be sipped from a small snifter in a two-ounce serving. This is a beer to savor, and sip slowly. Triple Bock has a brandy-like warmth and a complex melange of fruity, woody, and toffee-like flavors. Let the aroma fill your mouth and nose with rich malt and fruit overtones. Savor and appreciate its enormous character. Serve Triple Bock as you would a fine sherry, at room temperature, in a small snifter. One bottle generously serves two or three. Recork and store standing up. Once poured into a small glass, the layers of aroma and flavor will continue to evolve as the deep ruby brew warms in the hand.

Before I tell you what I think, let me tell you a few things I read about Sam Adams Triple Bock after the fact:

• It is considered by some to be one of the first "extreme" beers.
  
• It's one of the 25 strongest beers by ABV in the world, at 17.5%.
  
• It was brewed in only three batches, in 1994, 1995 and 1997.
  
• It's one of the most controversial beers on BeerAdvocate.com.

Okay, so what could be a better idea than cracking open this baby at quarter-to-one to ease into sleepytime land? Nothing, that's what. The beers were poured into two 4-ounce tester glasses, which was perfect for two servings. I noticed a couple of things.

First off, there was no head; apparently this beer is not carbonated at all. The look of it is black as midnight. It was very clear that this beer is deep, murky and thick. It is completely pitch black, as if someone poured roofing tar into a sippy-cup.

The smell is what shocked me. There is a scene in the film Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, where Brian Fontana wears a cologne called Sex Panther. Ron Burgundy eventually tells him, "I'm gonna level with you, that smells like pure gasoline." Had this beer come out after 2004, it may well have been renamed Sex Panther. Never have I taken a whiff of a beer that actually dared me to take a sip of it. I don't drink liquor because I don't like the harshness of the flavor. (Any beverage where you have to wince after you have you have a 2-ounce shot of it is not for me.) But this smelled like brandy or bourbon or whiskey. A lot of reviews say it smells like a port, so I'll take their word for that.

But there is one common trait that this beer has in both smell and taste, and it's been noticed by beer drinkers throughout the nation: Soy sauce.

The taste of alcoholic soy sauce permeates every sip, as does some hints of dark raisin and burnt fruit. It's not a pleasurable combination to my taste buds. I know that I'm probably supposed to like this, and admitting that it's not for me, is going to make me look like a bit of a pansy, but my taste buds don't like what they don't like. I hated it. If I had to describe it in one sentence, I would say the following: It's like drinking soy sauce mixed with blood.

One note: about a year ago I reviewed the Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA, and while I didn't really care for it, I was able to sort of appreciate where it was coming from, and why it existed. My taste buds didn't enjoy the complexities of that brew, but it did understand them. I cannot say the same for Sam Adams Triple Bock; it does not seem to me to have many complexities, but rather a "everything but the kitchen sink" ethos. I just can't pretend this beer is good to me.

The epilogue is that Bruce and I had considered going halfsies (or thirdsies or fourthsies or however many people we could get on board) on a $170 kettle of Sam Adams Utopia, the most alcoholic beer in the world. But after having this concoction, I can't see shelling out that much money for a beer, even if just to say I've had it. Nothing against Sam Adams -- and I'm sure Jim Koch could care less what I think, since he has said that he's sold every kettle of Utopia that he's produced -- but that Utopia plan has since been scrapped. (I am a frequent drinker of Sam Adams products, by the way, so this in no way a criticism of the brewery as a whole.)

Not that I need to mention this, but these are strictly my own opinions. Feel free to agree or disagree and leave a comment if you'd like. Am I brave for having the courage to admit I didn't like something that beer geeks everywhere should enjoy? Or was that bad smell I detected simply my own head being wedged where the sun don't shine?

The Session: Barleywines

Barleywines never seemed like beer to me, and maybe that's why I've been so slow to latch onto them. My first real experience with barleywines was a kegger I went to several years ago where the only beer available was Middle Ages Druid Fluid. While Druid Fluid is a fine ale, it is a thick and heavy brew, fit to drink out of a goblet when one doesn't have to drive anywhere. My intoxication level was off the charts, and my mouth was dry and ashy. The night was fun, but the after-effects may have turned me off to barleywines altogether.

It's a new era, however, and in the interest of expanding my admittedly biased palate, I have been trying to develop a taste for barleywines so I can see what I'm missing. Since both readers of this little blog know that I am a certified hop-head, it often takes me forcing down beverages of unfamiliar genre in order to begin the act of enjoying them. Last winter I did exactly that with porters, stouts and brown ales. This year I have decided to jump on the barleywine, Scottish/Scotch-ale and Belgian Ale bandwagons.

Some have questioned the notion of coercing the taste buds into accepting a new vocabulary. A few people have said to me, "Why would you make yourself drink something that you don't like?" My answer is that there was a time I didn't have a taste for craft beer, yet I kept trudging through, trying beer after beer, eventually developing a set of styles that I liked. I hope that others will consider this a humble step on the tall spiral staircase that is a beer geek's journey.

In most cases with me and beer, there is a tipping point. I think mine came several months ago when stopping for a nightcap at the newly reopened Empire Brewing Company in Syracuse's Armory Square. Fellow 'Jangler Willie Moe and I had been tipped off months before that the EBC would be selling a five-years-aged barleywine that had been produced before the original Empire closed its doors in 2003. This brew was phenomenal. Served in a stemmed tulip glass, it was sweet but bitter, with dry hops and a wonderfully pungent sourness. It was perfect, and flipped on the light switch in my head: this is what a barleywine is. It was bittersweet; sweet knowing I had discovered a terrific style, bitter knowing that these things were usually way more expensive than regular beers and I was a cheap bastard.

First, let me talk briefly about the barleywines I'm not quite in love with. This is certainly not to diminish the product of any of the fine breweries I frequent, but rather to illustrate where barleywines do it for me and where they don't. The one barleywine I had a real hard time drinking was the Mendocino Talon, sold in the wonderful Saratoga Brewery tasting room. I chalk my dislike for this beer to my own shortcomings, as it seems like it would be a wonderful beer for a connosieur of barleywines, with its heavy, chunky barley flavor and sour wine components. But for a novice like myself, it was just not something I was ready for. Please note, this is a routinely fine brewery, and Mendocino/Saratoga's Imperial IPA is a five-star brew.

Another stab at the style came from Stone, with their Old Guardian. Much like the Talon, the O.G. has a heavy grainy barley presence, with some sweet cherry and grape accents. And although all barleywines are high in alcohol, this one doesn't hide it. It's fizzy and thick and chewy. All told, it wasn't an easy drinker for the likes of me. Again, I am more apt to blame my own nouveau riche palate rather than the folks at Stone, who know more about what they are brewing than I do about what I am drinking.

There are a couple of barleywines that I have enjoyed thoroughly, and though my opinion probably means very little to the learned barleywine enthusiast. I enjoyed the Clipper City Brewing Below Decks Barleywine from their Heavy Seas collection of stronger beers. This beer has a whiff of mild whiskey, and though it was slightly too skewed toward the cherry-sweet side in my opinion (as opposed to being offset by the malt balance), it was a very drinkable beer with a good, solid texture.

Possibly my favorite commercial barleywine is the Brooklyn Monster Ale, 2006-07 edition. The smell and taste are equally flirtatious, taking the best of cherry and grape notes and combining them with a calming, grounded yeast presence that adds both sweetness and texture. It has a real heavy bite, but in a good way.

Side note: The fact that the Monster Ale had been aged seemed to make quite a difference, in that it tamed the stronger, more abrasive flavors (like the sometimes cloying cherry) and brought out the best in the well-aged flavors (like the yeast). I'm not sure if all barleywines need to be aged to be enjoyed this much, but considering the two best barleywines I had had to date were well-aged, this might be the case.

I think that the best barleywine I have had thus far was one I had only a few weeks ago, at the charming Pittsfield Brew Works, where the Bees Knees Barleywine was on the ridiculously price-controlled beer menu. This beer was smooth and not at all grainy. The harshness of the malt was beautifully balanced by real honey (hence the name). It was probably the best dessert beer I've ever had, which is ironic because it's not meant to be one. Javen and I also sampled the Berkshire Brewing Company's Barleywine Ale and agreed that it was a fine specimen, although my specific memories of it escape me since it was well into the wee hours of the night and an "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" marathon. These things are bound to happen.

I know that I'm in the yellow-belt class of barleywine appreciation, but I'm looking forward to reading more of these session posts and getting some ideas, because although I still wouldn't put barleywines up there with IPAs and Pub Ales just yet in my own personal rotation, I know that a good version can be transcendent.

The Session 9: Beer and Music

Well, this month's Session is upon us. The topic at hand is Beer and Music, and it comes to us from Tomme over at Lost Abbey, who poses this challenge:

For this session, I am looking towards my fellow bloggers to share a music and beer moment with. It could be that Pearl Jam show I attended 7 years ago where I was forced to drink 5 Coronas to stay warm. But more likely, it could be an album or song that you’re always listening to.

===============================================================

In thinking about this month’s Session, which is beer and music, I took some time out the other day when I shut most of my myriad daily distractions down – cut off the television, cut off the computer, and put away the extraneous reading material. I ambled over to my refrigerator, and popped open a bottle of Flying Bison Aviator Red (an Irish Red-style ale), and poured it into a pint-glass. The next step was to rifle through my CD collection. Upon finding my copy of Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits, I was good to go. It was time for the Fleetwood Mac Hour.

The tradition of the Fleetwood Mac Hour dates back to the fall of 1998, when I was a Senior at Le Moyne College in Syracuse. Admittedly, then I was a bit less of a aficionado of good beer: I was indiscriminate in my consumption of a number of indistinguishable lagers, and my palate was as one-dimensional as a Fred Durst rap, ranging from Miller High Life to Natural Ice, and encompassing every Schmidt's, Schlitz, and Blatz along that spectrum. My roommate Jake and I used to, every now and then, take a break from the crazed goings-on of that year by taking a bit of time to sit down together in our dorm room. We’d grab cans of one of the aforementioned cheap lagers from the fridge, pop some Fleetwood Mac on the stereo (it was most assuredly uncool to love the Mac, but we’d found out that it was a shared guilty pleasure), and relax. Some days, we’d talk. Others, we’d just listen. It may seem like a simpler time now, but then, it felt rushed and ominously finite. This was our way of taking a break from that. I don’t think that our other friends had this particular ritual, but I know that others did something similar (my friend PJ still reminisces about a “Steely Dan Hour” that involved hot apple cider and Bacardi 151).

(Yes, there'd be times when other albums would creep in to this ritual: R.E.M.'s "Automatic For The People," Bob Dylan's "Highway 61 Revisited," and Jeff Buckley's "Grace" all got a spin at some time or another during these times - all of them singularly remarkable albums. But there was something about the Mac - as assuredly uncool as they were - that just seemed to fit nicely with what we needed to do. I wish I could put my finger on why.)

Now, though, the Fleetwood Mac Hour is a solitary pursuit. The switch from cans of cheap lager (far too often, it'd be Milwaukee’s Best Ice, which made Milwaukee’s Best seem subtle and refined in comparison) to good beer has been a welcome one. Flying Bison Aviator Red was a good match for this warm late-October day; malty and sweet with a subtle hop taste and a hint of something smoky – which I later found was roasted barley - it was a good bridge between the summer beers I’ve been drinking for a few months and the stouts and porters that will no doubt dominate my palate in the coming snowy season.

(Previous excursions into the Fleetwood Mac Hour - my solitary, almost meditative version of it - have been celebrated with different beers. I've been really lucky - I've tried new beers during these times and have been (by and large) really happy in taking risks. Whether it's Rock Art's Ridge Runner Ale (my new favorite barleywine, from a newly-discovered Vermont brewery) or a growler of Captain Lawrence's Liquid Gold, this is as good a time as any to try new beers.)

After taking the first sip of whatever it is that I've poured for myself, it’s time for the Mac. Track 1 sucks me in – “Rhiannon.” Next thing I know, I’m transported from my current-day worries, and I’m in full reminiscence mode. The tracks of the Mac’s “Greatest Hits” compilation serve as a highlight reel of great tune after great tune – “Go Your Own Way,” “Sara,” “Little Lies,” and “Say You Love Me.” Some great Fleetwood Mac songs are missing (Lindsey Buckingham’s poignant “Never Going Back Again,” from “Rumours,” for one), but never mind. The music’s main function is to help me relax, and it succeeds on every level.

Admittedly, when the disc is over, I’m already back – television blaring, computer up and running (when I can get my blasted laptop to work), copy of “GQ” magazine nearby, and the worries of the current day pulse through my frontal lobe incessantly. That being said, it’s nice to know that I can get a little bit of that serenity back into my life, even if it’s only for a little bit.

The Session #8: Beer and Food - Eat Locally, Drink Locally!

(This is our contribution to the October Session: for more information and to read some previous Sessions posts from around the world, please check out the blogroll to the left...)

We here at Beerjanglin' are not, generally speaking, a socially conscious lot. I mean, we like beer. That's what we do. Anything else is - basically - extra. That being said, every now and then, we keep our ears open for social trends.

One of the more intriguing social developments of the past few years has been the growing push for people to “eat locally” – that is, make a conscious effort to purchase and consume goods produced within a certain radius of your home (generally, 100 miles is an acceptable radius). In thinking about this movement, we’ve read a few things in magazines like “Men’s Health” and on the internet, but haven’t really seen a centralized take on this that we’ve found to be particularly clarifying, so we’ll do our best to explain the tenets of this ethos.

Eating locally is the “right” thing to do because when you buy from regional food producers (the more that you buy directly from them, the better), your money stays in the local economy and helps better the towns and neighborhoods in your proximity. Beyond that, the reasons for eating locally are myriad; proponents of doing this cite reasons raising from the standard “it’s better for the environment because the more people who do this means the less energy is spent in transporting food on planes and trucks” to the simpler thought of “local food is generally fresher.”

Here in the Capital Region of New York, there’s a lot going on that makes “eating locally” an intriguing and delicious prospect. If you were to take a compass and map of the region and place the compass’s center point on Albany, and then draw a circle to approximate a 100-mile border, you’d create an area that included a lot of farms (the full four seasons of the area lend themselves nicely to a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, and even a surprising variety of meat and dairy-related products, including a farm in Rensselaer County that produces fresh buffalo meat). You’d be doing all right at the dining table.

What we’d love to see as part of the “eat locally” movement would be an increased push to “drink locally,” which I will define as making a conscious effort to purchase and consume beers produced within that same 100 mile radius. It falls into that same ethos: better for the local economy, less energy is expended in transporting beer from place to place, and oh, the freshness of local beer!

With that same 100-mile radius around Albany in mind, there’s a lot of phenomenal beer-making going on locally. A quick visit to Beermapping.com reveals a vast number of breweries and beer pubs that makes even the hypothetical proposition of “drinking locally” supremely appetizing.

There are a couple of larger-output breweries in this area which put out a great variety of craft beer. Most prominently, on the western outskirts of this radius sits the FX Matt Brewing Company, which produces a variety of beers, from the unfairly-maligned Utica Club Lager to a wide range of beers under their Saranac brand, as well as doing a great deal of contract brewing for quality brands like Brooklyn. Additionally, to the north, there’s the Olde Saratoga Brewing Company, which produces a great line of beers both under the "Olde Saratoga" name as well as Mendocino beers, while contract brewing quality beverages from companies like He'Brew and Blue Point. If these two were the only breweries in the radius, the area would already be awash in phenomenal beer.

However, there are several brewpubs in the area that satisfy this way of thinking doubly so; by creating a number of fresh beers while cooking and using a variety of locally-produced foods. Some of these even cross their streams, so to speak, creating local beers while using locally-grown produce in the process. Two of these are particularly notable.

C.H. Evans Brewing Company at the Albany Pump Station, which we’ve highlighted earlier in this blog, is located in downtown Albany and offers a menu that includes locally-produced food. One of their recent beer offerings, however, demands special highlighting – the Cherry Brown, a Belgian-style strong Brown Ale brewed with more than 250 pounds of handpicked sour cherries that came from area farms. We were fortunate to sample this recently, and we were pleasantly surprised – the cherry taste was far from extraneous in the beer, serving as an integral part of the taste and making for a remarkably pleasant drinking experience.

Brown’s Brewing Company, located across the mighty Hudson River in Troy, also does a remarkable job of combining a fine menu (that emphasizes the cuisine of Upstate New York nicely, from southwestern New York-style chicken spiedies to Buffalo wings) with a great variety of beers. Of note: the brewers recently released a limited batch of a Wet Hopped Imperial Pale Ale, made with hand-picked hops from the area. This is a tremendously exciting development, to say the least.

In general, Upstate New York is awash in microbreweries and brewpubs that all make a consistent effort to use local ingredients in their brewing process. Whether it's Empire Brewing Company in Syracuse, Rohrbach Brewery in Rochester, Flying Bison in Buffalo, or the phenomenal Davidson Brothers in Glens Falls, there's a lot of wonderful things happening in this fine state of ours.

Some websites advocate having people pledge to eat and drink locally whenever possible; we’re going to shy away from going that far. To be honest, there’s way too much good stuff being made outside our little 100-mile-radius to avoid that altogether. What we would like to advocate, however, is that when you’re at the beer store the next time, wherever you are - whether it's southern California or northern Wisconsin, the mountains of Colorado or the Mississippi valley - stopping to take a look at what’s fresh and local, and maybe trying something new from that group. It’s not much, and it probably won’t save the polar ice caps from melting, but hey, it’s not a bad start.

The Session #7: Brew Zoo

It has come to be that time once again. A new month is upon us and therefore a new "Session" as well. I was honored when the Chief Executive Blogger tapped me, of all people, to pound out the September "Session" for Beerjanglin. The topic at hand is the "Brew Zoo". You may wonder what in the heck that means, perhaps even furrowing your brow a bit upon reading it. Well rather than explain this myself, I will simply have the guys over at "Appelation Beer: Beer From a Good Home" do the honors:

"Have you ever noticed how many animals show up on beer labels? We have lions and tigers and bears, plus various birds, reptiles, fish, assorted domesticated and wild animals, plus a few mythical creatures. For whatever reason brewers have a tradition of branding their beers using everything from pets to predators. The Brew Zoo will celebrate these lagers and ales."

Well, to kind of narrow things down a little bit, I will mainly focusing on beers that are readily available to myself up in the Northeastern United States. But enough Golden Monkey-ing around let's get down to business. I am going to explore several of the more popular beer animals.

[And big thanks to Rick Lyke at Lyke 2 Drink for hosting the festivities this month! You can read the four updated Session collections here, here, here and here, as well as Lyke's own entry here. Please visit all these sites and leave comments.]

DOG-GONE GOOD TIME!
Ah yes, the canis lupus familiaris, or dog, could, I said could be, the most popular animal to grace beer labels world wide. Now if you are expecting to find Red Dog in this post (other than here), than you have taken the wrong exit on the information superhighway. Feel free to turn around at your earliest convenience, and proceed back to the Macro Crap exit. Anyway back to the canine, man's best friend. Dogs are ever-present in the world of brewing, and why shouldn't they be? Go on, tell me. Nothing? Alright then. You see, while the dog is said to be man's best friend, beer has certainly given the canines of the world a pretty good run for their money. I mean, I love both, but dogs don't assault your taste buds or refresh you like a good beer will. But in a dog's defense, beer doesn't fetch or sniff your crotch, so, it's sort of a toss-up. It seems only natural that man's two best friends be joined in beautiful harmony. I think we've all needed a little "hair of the dog" at one point or another. One place that has really gone to the dogs is Flying Dog Brewery in Colorado.

At Flying Dog they work doggedly at making their delicious brews year round, all aptly named to reference the canine. From the In-Heat Wheat to the Doggie Style IPA to the Tire Bite, they offer quite an array of refreshing and delicious brews. Most of the dogs on the labels are crudely drawn cartoons, so it is difficult to see exactly what kind of dogs they are. But if I had to guess, I would say, "friendly and playful". Several different dogs actually grace the labels, not just the flying dog itself.

Now most of the regular offerings don't have that much "bite", topping out just under 6% ABV, with several staying more in the 4-5% ABV range. But if you don't want to be left lapping up their regular offerings, you may want to try and find their annual Wild Dog Series release. The current one is the Wild Dog Barrel-Aged Gonzo Imperial Porter which is 9.0% ABV. Yep, not something to just go wagging your tail at. Interestingly enough, this concoction does not have a dog on the label? Go figure, more alcohol, less dog?

Now, unlike Flying Dog, The Sea Dog Brewing Company in Maine relies on just one dog to appear on it's labels, a dog by the name of Barney.

"Barney was the Sea Dog Brewing Company's apprentice brewmaster and figurehead. Sadly he is no longer with us, but his spirit lives on. A Great Pyrenees, which were originally bred for their dauntless protection of mountain flocks and as official guard dogs for the French court in the 17th century, Barney continued this age old tradition by posting guard over the brew kettle as it boiled. Although, the Great Pyrenees breed usually dislikes the water, Barney loved it and dove right in whenever he got the chance. As a boating "enthusiast" he began sailing at three months and thus acquired his nickname of "Sea Dog". Barney was just as at home on deck as on land."

Oddly enough, much like the pack at Flying Dog, the Sea Dog line is not heavy on the alcohol content, offerering only 4 brews above 5.0% ABV. We're not saying they're dogging it, but I find it interesting that beers with dogs on them do not offer that much bite? Although looking at Barney, you realize that such a nice, sweet dog would not bite you unless provoked. I mean how intimidating is a shaggy dog in a rain slicker, really? Sea Dog seems to offer more in the way of fruity flavor like in their Raspberry, Apricot or Blueberry Wheats. They may not have much bite, but I wouldn't mind taking these dogs for a walk anyday, if ya catch my drift.

Now just because a brewery doesn't have a dog name, doesn't mean they can't put one on the label, does it? No it does not. Take a "Beerjanglin" fan favorite; Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale, for example. This Brown Ale features, in case you couldn't guess, an old brown dog on the label. At 5.7% this brown ale could quickly become your best friend. But what's really interesting here, is that Smuttynose logo actually features a smuttynosed seal-like creature that is, quite possibly, an actual seal. But it only appears on the upper labels of their bottles and never anywhere else. Sounds a bit.....

FISHY TO ME
Ah yes, the wonderful world of sea creatures. I would say sea life is about as well-represented in the beer community as the dog. Don't believe me? Think I'm baiting you? Well, I'm not, my friends, I speaketh the truth. So read on, drink on, whatever floats your boat, and take a look at these offerings that you are sure to fall for hook, line and sinker.

The Smuttynose Brewing Co. is one of the better breweries to use a sea creature on it's bottles and logo. The Old Brown Dog Ale is an award winning brew and pretty much everything they offer is delicious and does that smutty-nosed fella on their bottles proud. Just pick one and drink it, you'll sea what I mean. I'm telling you it does not matter, which one you choose, pick randomly. It'll be good. Of course some are better than others, sure.The Big A IPA, the Smuttynose IPA and Smuttynose Robust Porter are among their top offerings, and you'd be wise to make any one of them your "catch of the day."

But really, why settle for just a dog or just a fish?At Dogfish Head Brewing they've found the common denominator, and trust me it does not get much fishier than the brewing at Dogfish Head. There brews tend to be both "experimental" and "extreme". By "extreme", I mean, they have a tad bit more alcohol in them than your average brew. You know like 18-20% or so, no big deal. Perhaps best known, at least to this drinker, for their I.P.A.s. There's a 60 Minute, 90 Minute and for the ever daring, the 120 Minute I.P.A. Some other more experimantal brews include the Aprihop, Chicory Stout and Fetsina Peche. Some of these "experiments" should, perhaps sleep with the fishes. But say what you will about Dogfish Head, they are not afraid to try new things, they'll do something just for the halibut.

Meanwhile, at Rooster Fish Brewing, located slightly more than a stone's throw away from us here in Syracuse, down in Watkins Glen, NY, is the cock of the walk baby. Okay, sure, I've never had anything from this particular brew station, but it looks like a great place. For the hop heads there's a Hop Warrior Imperial IPA, that has my mouth watering just typing about it. But of course there's more, sillies. It looks like they have about six brews on tap, and I'm sure they are all well above mediocre, and are just begging to be reeled in. And besides you know what they say, "Beer with fish on the labels is brain food", or something like that? Or perhaps that's just a......

BIRD OF ANOTHER FEATHER
If your talkin' birds and brew, then you must be talkin' Mendocino Brewing Company, right? The Mendocino family of brews features a bird, mostly hawks, on every label, and delicious beer in every bottle. Now, trust me when I tell you, these brews are not for the birds. Each beer named for a bird is representative of said birds characteristics:

"We are proud to have a range of impressive imagery on all our labels. The Raptors that represent our ales possess all the qualities that our beers have. For example, the Red Tail Hawk, native to Northern California, combines a subtle strength with an amber allure that is reflected perfectly in the ale that bears its name. Eye of the Hawk, features a magnificent head of a Hawk - its piercing eyes giving it an aura of power and presence. So also, our Select Ale that pays tribute to this Hawk. The Black Hawk that our stout portrays, is a singularly elegant raptor that has a maturity born of confidence - so too our Stout."

That just about says it all, don't it? Myself, I'm partial to the White Hawk IPA and the Eye of the Hawk, but I don't think you'll be disappointed with any of their offerings. These brews are great on tap or out of the bottle back at the nest. Trust me, when it comes to making beer, the gang at Mendocino doesn't lay an egg. So take flight (after you're done reading this post of course) to your local grocer or beer store and see if they stock it!

Another notable bird favorite is Middle Ages' Swallow Wit. Brewed in the style of a Belgian wit bier, it has a fruity taste created by orange peel. One of my personal favs, this is a light and refreshing brew that is very drinkable and a delight to have on a warm summer's day. I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say you'd have to be some sort of bird-brain to not enjoy this. Seriously, I mean it. It's delicious. Maybe not the best Middle Ages has to offer, but it's definitely worth a few pecks. Now don't worry, this brew doesn't fly south for the winter, you can find it year round. Down at Middle Ages they take there brewing seriously and are not about......

MONKEYING AROUND
Possibly my favorite member of the animal kingdom, I find the monkey to be rather underrepresented in the world of beer. But hey, maybe I'm not looking hard enough, who knows?

Victory's Golden Monkey is, well, the "gold standard" in monkey-labeled beers. With a 9.5% ABV, it will only take a few of these to make you go bananas. One of Victory's biggest, um, victories, Golden Monkey continues to be a fan-favorite in the beer community. I know, without question, it's the best monkey beer I've ever had. Sure, it's the only one I've ever had, but don't let that detract away from my statement, because it's still top-notch! Nope, no monkey business here, Golden Monkey is the real deal!

Well that about wraps it up folks. Talk about animal magnetism, right? So, heyI'd love it if you left a comment to let me no what you think (please keep it clean and constructive), good, bad or indifferent. Thanks for stopping by, come back soon, and until then...."Bottoms Up!"

Session #6 - Fruit Beer by Bill

[Note for both of our regular readers: We are proud to put enter the foray of "The Session," which is a day every month -- the first Friday, to be exact -- where bloggers from all around weigh in on a certain topic. To find out more about "The Session," please visit Appellation Beer for the origins. The topic this month is fruit beer. This month's session will be hosted by Beer, Beats & Bites, a terrific Canadian beer blog run by Greg Clow. Please visit BB&B. And to see what a completed "Session" looks like, please see session #5 from July, regarding the best Atmosphere in which to have a beer. For now, grab a pint and enjoy.]

[UPDATE: The Round-up for "The Session" can be found here.]

I was asked by my editor to contribute to The Session on behalf of Beerjanglin'. He told me that this month's theme would be Fruit Beers. Naturally, I headed to the nearest Wilson Farms convenience store to pick up a 30-pack of Busch, swung by the farmer's market for a dozen or so oranges, and began the arduous task of juicing the oranges and mixing them with the Busch in gallons of empty milk containers. Results were mixed, to say the least, but I emerged through the other side with a new appreciation for oranges, and for the resilience of the human gastrointestinal system. Before my opus detailing my experiences could see the light of day, my editor informed me that there were, in fact, beers brewed with the fruit already in them. Naturally, I thought he must be playing a prank on me. He was not.

Not quite understanding the protocol of The Session yet, I simply decided to select three fruit beers and see if I can tap into what makes them either potable, or unimpressive. Fruit beers are somewhat out of my wheelhouse ("My name is Bill S., and I am a hop-head..."), but I must admit a somewhat guilty-pleasure appreciation for fruit beers. Besides, no matter how hard I tried, there was no way to classify a hop as a fruit on a technicality. On a hot August day, sometimes a blueberry- or raspberry-flavored brew is just what the doctor ordered, and not only because of the fact that the American Medical Association recognizes that it fights scurvy.

Rather than try to traverse the gamut of all the Fruit Beers in the galaxy, I decided to stick with three breweries that I know and trust. My selections were Ellicottville (NY) Blueberry Wheat, Blue Point (NY) Blueberry Ale, and Dogfish Head (DE) Midas Touch Golden Elixir. I know I sorta chickened out by doing two Blueberry beers, but we shall see where this is headed.

The criteria I will primarily be using for Fruit Beer purposes will be Consistency (aka Mouthfeel), Flavor and Refreshingness (aka Drinkability). These beers are generally engineered for the summer, except the Midas Touch which I just realized is 9% alcohol by volume. Oops! Well, here we go. Excelsior!:

First up is the Blue Point Blueberry Ale, a seemingly popular blueberry beer around these parts. The first thing that struck me about this one is its thickness. The beer looks very thin and almost watery. It's a clear reddish-orange color (where's the blue???), and though it poured a pretty thick ice cream float head, I didn't expect there to be much body to it. But when I took a sip, there was a surprisingly creamy feel to this one. Yet, the taste of the beer is light enough to appease the lightest of lightweights, as well as satisfy the true beer drinker.

It does taste like a beer, not a fruit drink. It's a golden ale with a top coating of light, but not overwhelming blueberry flavor. In fact, it's a remarkably balanced beer, utilizing the sweetness of the blueberry to offset the dryness of the biscuity malt and the hints of wheat that show up all over this baby.

As far as summer drinking goes, it might be just a tad too much for the Smirnoff-swilling ingenues you might be inviting to your deck party because of its thickness, but it can still be enjoyed for its rich and balanced flavor. And the fellow beergeeks at the party who are sick of Corona and Miller High Life every Saturday afternoon will thank you for this one.

Next up to bat, is the Ellicottville Blueberry Wheat. I was immediately struck by the contrast between this beer and the Blueberry Ale shown above. First of all, the color is a straw-yellow, but not thin-looking; it's got a nice wheaty haze that makes the beer opaque. The smell was similar, with traces of wheat and blueberry, and a curious hint of pepper, of all things.

The differences become more apparent in the taste and feel. Whereas the beer above had a balance between the dry and the sweet, this one is all sweetness. The wheat itself is of a more confectionary variety, which goes along nicely with the blueberry, but doesn't offer much in the way of a counterpoint. It actually becomes a bit tart and sour, moreso as it warms up a bit.

Also, this is certainly not thick; it's more "wet" and watery. Which isn't to say it's a bad beer, but it's more along the lines of a summery, populist selection than the Blue Point ale. This one might be a bit more palatable for those not accustomed to the drier beers or beers with more malt presence. This is also a fine selection, and some might say it's actually summery...er than the Blue Point, but it appears that the Blue Point appeals more to the geek, and the Ellicottville is brewed for the cool kids. Also, the Ellicottville is unfiltered, just so you know.

And finally, one I've actually been wanting to try for a long time. Dogfish Head has made some great brews (the 60/90 Minute IPAs are the gold standard) and some interesting misses (Burton Baton). I ignored the sticker shock of the Midas Touch Golden Elixir and went for it. Here goes.

The color of the Midas Touch is, predictably, pure gold (and yes, it was like that before I touched it, in case you were wondering). It looks actually like apple juice. It's got a nice color, but looks like it has very little body.

Now, the smell of this Elixir is a whole 'nother story. It's one of the most complex-smelling beers I have ever experienced. If I were a bloodhound, maybe I could deconstruct all the aromas I'm picking up, but as it is, I am detecting mostly a deep red-wine grape aroma, along with some of the usual characteristics of a regular ale. There is a very sweet, sugary honey accent on top as well, and some other berries which I can't quite identify. It's like a symphony of different smells, a menagerie of different fragrances. A tiny bit of perfumey Belgian saison flavor comes about as well.

The taste is almost anticlimactic. There are all sorts of berries and grapes and round, nickel-sized fruits. All traces of malt and hops, while present, fade in the background of the strong panoply of fruits and berries. As it warms up, the rounded flavors become a bit sharper, with some of that heavy alcoholic kick (9%, remember). Also, the sweetness turns to more of a puckery sour toward the bottom of the glass. It evolved right before my eyes -- although I would also claim that it was intelligently designed.

The feel is not what I would call "summery." It's thick and bubbly, like a belgian farmhouse or saison ale. It's thick and strong, and pungent. It leaves a tart film on the tongue in the aftermath. It's a fascinating brew, really. Complex and one-of-a-kind. This doesn't mean I could have more than one every couple years, but it's worth having that one.

Thanks for wasting a few minutes reading our little blog. If you feel like it, take a gander back over the past few months and see if there is anything you like. Or hate. Feel free to stop back and see us again, or leave a message.