TravelSips

August 30, 2013 · 10:07 pm

The Best Beer for Aussie Meat Pies (Boston)

I live above a restaurant in the center of the best food and drink available in the Boston region. Which is to say I live in Cambridge. (If you think Boston is the center, check out the Eater map.) And while I’m not officially in the industry (as people who work in restaurants like to call it) I have thickly tangled myself in the fringe by being a regular at as many places as my paycheck will allow. One of the many perks of this is getting early information about really cool events, such as a tip from Darren at MJ Curley’s.

A meat pie throw down. Twelve chefs, 12 pies, one Australian kitchen called KO at the Shipyard. (Which is technically in Boston! See? I’m willing to give a deserved nod.)

The story starts with a boat (see above)- because on a day this beautiful you don’t really want to take the T to Eastie (as East Boston is known to locals).

We drank, we ate, we graded, we ate more. Below are the before and after shots of the 12 pies.

As you can see, the perfect pairing was Dale’s Pale Ale. And lots of it.
My dining companion is authentically in the industry at another (Boston based!) true craft beer destination called Picco. So I was judging with a pro.

The event sold out with over 100 people. The real Aussies at our table- working on a yacht for the summer in Boston Harbor- ordered an extra dozen pies “just to be sure.” Winning pie: short rib and kimchi by chef Chin Kau of Saus. But the braised oxtail, shallot confit, bone marrow pie and the Moxie chicken wing pie, and the Cuban pie were all amazing. And so was the tomato and corn pie. And the rabbit and mushroom! Oh my. I think the cross section shot below is of the lamb, madeira, feta, minted pea puree pie. I wish they could all win!

KO at the Shipyard has lots of other craft beer choices, too- which makes it my new favorite find in Boston. Repeated trips via boat will add up quickly- you can also take the blue line T to Maverick. Just look for the giant green cleaver outside.

I was a little distracted at the start because a short story I wrote had made it to the final 10 at the annual Bukowski Pint & Pen contest, and the announcement party was going on at the same time. There were probably 11 entries. My story didn’t win place or show, so I ditched the device I’d been checking obsessively and applauded my evening’s destination decision. If you’ve already gotten this far and fancy spending time in airports you might as well read it. (rules: fewer than 700 words, the use of words pint, pen, Harpoon, and Dig.)

By the way, the irony that all the decent restaurants listed in this post are located in Boston is not lost on me. Just wait- I’ll write about my own ‘hood soon enough. And it will be a lot longer.

Still Not Sure

I set down my pint of Harpoon- the only decent beer I could get at Logan- and checked my departure status on the board across from the bar. On time for 7:34pm.

It was 6:20. I like to be at the airport early. I like being at the airport period. Some people say they like to travel when they really mean they like to exist at a destination away from home. But I dig it all- being picked up by the cab, checking my luggage (which I always do because of the beer presents I take everywhere), finding the growing craft beer offerings at various airports.

And I like the other regular fliers I meet. We understand the Code. We know that moving walkways are not rides. We never wear laced shoes. We know we don’t really have to bother with the quart-size plastic bags. We never stand up when the plane arrives at the gate. We occasionally display a subtle scorn for those who haven’t figured out the unwritten rules of frequent travelers.

That scorn-glance was the first one I sent her. I mean really- who talks that loud on the phone anywhere, especially at an airport bar?

“I think I left it on the kitchen table.” She was nearly screaming.

The second glance was a fast double-take. I knew her. But maybe not- it had been years. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d run into someone while on a trip. Once the guy I occasionally saw in my building’s elevator but never spoke to showed up in the seat next to me on a flight to Dallas. We ended up bonding at Deep Ellum Brewery. And then in my hotel room afterwards. This wasn’t going to end that way.

“Did you look on the hall table? Maybe it’s under last week’s Dig. How about next to the sink?” Meanwhile she’d been rummaging her bag- a real multitasker. She even managed to order a Harpoon as well. Sort of impressive- although I think all she did was point to mine. Everyone was watching her; she was completely unaware of us.

Suddenly she was waving a blue passport in the air. “I found it! I found it! I’m all set for tomorrow- phew! YesOKsorrybye.”

Silence. Finally. She looked around suddenly remembering where she was and focused on me.
“Oh my God- how are you?”

Shit! Who is this? I smiled as if I knew exactly who she was.

She was shaking her head. “I’ll never forget that day. One day we’re all in class, the next day those two professors and that student are dead and news crews are all over town. Did you stay to graduate? I just couldn’t go back.”

That narrowed it down. Before I could respond the bartender interrupted us.

“Would you like a shot with that for $3 more?”
“No thanks. Oh wait- I don’t have time for two beers- so yes please. Whatever whisky you have.”

She was growing on me. And while normally someone who doesn’t wait for me to answer would annoy me, I was grateful. I’d been having an affair with one of the professors killed that day. She just kept talking. The bartender put both drinks in front of her.

“My flight is scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes, but from what I can see people are still in line to board at my gate.” She paused to finish her shot in one gulp, then started searching her bag for her wallet.

“No no” I said, “Let me get it- you really should catch your flight.” I put some cash on the bar. In one long sip she emptied half of her glass.

“Thanks- you’re probably right.” She dove into her bag yet again. “Let me get your number so I can return the favor if we’re ever in the same city.” She gave up and reached for her beer, handing me the coaster. “Have you got a pen?”

I scribbled down my number even though my phone was sitting right on the bar. She tossed it in her bottomless bag, downed her beer, and dashed towards the empty gate.

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Tagged as Boston, Dale's Pale Ale, JM Curley's, KO, Picco, short story

August 6, 2013 · 8:27 pm

The Making of a Beer Judge (Cambridge)

The first time I judged a beer competition I was paired with Judge #1. As in, he wrote the original BJCP Beer Style Guidelines that are still used around the world, including at a brown ale competition I eventually judged at Baladin Brewery (above- you may recognize some of the other judges) in Piozzo, Italy. (My number, to give you some perspective, is F0264. It had arrived in the mail with my passing score the week before).

That judge, Pat Baker, taught me a lot in one flight of beer judging. But at the time I had no idea who he was. It’s normal to match a newbie with a veteran at competitions. He was old. That’s all I really noticed. I was telling him about my recent BJCP exam experience in Savannah, Georgia while looking down at my score sheet. I told him that I had studied for months, attended a series of style-sample-Sundays at Bob Sandage’s home (who now owns Wrecking Bar Brewery in Atlanta), that it was way harder than the bar exam. That’s when I looked up from my score sheet and saw that his eyes were welling. He didn’t cry- but I’m telling you- they were red-rimmed and pooling. He put down his pen (Pat only uses pen to judge, while us mortals all use pencil) sat back, and told me the story. He said the test was written so that anyone from a high-school graduate (remember when the drinking age was a reasonable 18?) to a- well, a lawyer- would be evenly challenged about the making and appreciation of beer. About the five stages of yeast and the flavors they impart, understanding the impact of boil length, decoction mash temperatures, what can be done during the brewing process to make a hefeweizen yeast lean more towards banana than clove, name three styles (and historical locations) with high bicarbonate content in the water and how it impacts final flavors, dryness, and other properties… Lordy. The exam, he explained, was meant to be an egalitarian yet challenging and serious threshold to a meaningful credential to judge beer. A bar in its own right, if you will.

I am not exaggerating about the relative difficulty to the bar exam- especially for a non-scientist such as myself. (It’s the time management that kills the engineers- they often don’t finish the first time they take it.) Hey- you try answering ten essay questions in three hours while being interrupted four times to taste and evaluate a beer! And the questions- name three beer styles with a starting gravity over 1.070 and provide details: history, SRMs, IBUs, OG, FG, describe the aroma, the flavor profile, the mouthfeel, compare the malt bills, the hops, the yeast- oh and write an all grain recipe for one of them. It’s wicked.

A few years later, with dozens of competitions under my belt and a confident palate for evaluating beer, Pat and I were paired again at a regional Sam Adams Longshot competition (above). It opened with a calibration beer. We didn’t speak- we just sniffed, sipped, wrote, and exchanged score sheets. We had both given the highly visible, successful commercial beer a 21 and 22 respectively (out of 50). He smiled. “You’ve come a long way [grasshopper]”. (The beer was perfectly drinkable, but not to style- which is what we’re supposed to judge.)

I was reminded of all this because I’m preparing to teach a class this Friday (August 9, 2013) at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education: Belgium v. Germany. (NB: I waive any compensation for teaching- I do it for passion alone. And fun!) We’re going to be sniffing, tasting, comparing, contrasting- with the aid of maps and history books- some of the finest examples from both countries. (Including some that I brought back in my suitcase because they are not available in the states.) I’m told they will make room for few more- join us!

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Tagged as Beer Judge, BJCP, Cambridge, Cambridge Center for Adult Education, Pat Baker, Piozzo

July 30, 2013 · 6:14 pm

Craft Music (Newport)

I’ve always had a thing for upright bass players. I think it started when I saw Christian McBride break a string mid-set at a small supper-club style venue in a strip mall in Baltimore called the New Haven Lounge in the early ’90s. A fan- an exuberant high school student- ran home and brought back his own bass (take a moment to picture that) which Christian humbly accepted and played for the rest of the night. Everyone was so excited- the room was glowing with bass player affection.

But the bass is not what I expected to focus on when I went to see JD McPherson at the Newport Folk Festival. I was there to see a live performance of the music I’d been listening to ever since I first heard it the week before in Bamberg (see previous post), and to interview JD himself. I will get to that.

But wow! Do you see how the man above is standing and holding his bass? He moved with it like a dance partner- sometimes like a lover- tickling, slapping, absolutely flirting- in front of everyone. I was mesmerized. They were having so much fun! The look on his face was disbelief of a windfall- like he couldn’t believe she was dancing with him; that he was surprised they were so good together. Don’t get me wrong- the whole band was fantastic. All the buildup of the week before was amazingly surpassed by the performance. Even in the rain with my feet squishing on the soggy ground. But I could not take my eyes off the couple – man and instrument- moving around up there. I had to remember to close my mouth a few times.

And of course I must mention the beer. Newport Storm’s IPA is an excellent attitude adjustment for a dour day of sideways rain.

The bassist is called Jimmy Sutton. I did not interview him. In truth I feel like I witnessed something I perhaps wasn’t supposed to watch- I was a music voyeur. I would have been too shy to talk to him anyway (yes, me) so it’s just as well.

So on to the interview with JD, pictured above.

Me: When I first heard you, I thought you were a heavy middle-aged black man.

JD: Thank you.

I liked him right off the bat. Getting to him wasn’t easy. I went through the press contact on the website, got a reply from the manager, got his tour manager’s text number who sent me to a special place to meet. He gave security a knowing nod and I was whisked back to a secret area. It was really just a room with some coke machines and plastic tables, but I dug the pomp. And that it was dry, since at that point nothing else was.

Me: (I handed JD a couple of decks of playing cards with maps on them. A gift. I wanted to give him a beer but you’re not allowed to bring it to the fest.) I understand you earned graduate credit for performance card magic, or something like that. Tell me about it.

JD: (Immediately opening one of the decks and doing some kind of complicated walking-shuffling thing.) It was really a one hour of credit with Professor Godsey, an elderly teacher. A magician, a fiddler- a true Renaissance man.

Me: Has the smartphone changed anything about your music or how you relate to fans?

JD: Yes. We don’t try out new material in front of audiences anymore because it will be on YouTube the next day. We wait until we record it.

Me: What would you be doing if you weren’t involved in the arts?

JD: I’d be a rancher or a farmer. No- I’d own a restaurant. But not if I had to work in it. It would have wirwar (a Tulsa hodge podge), zucchini soup, a Hank Williams jukebox, and [craft- I’m sure that’s what he meant] beer.

Me: (To myself, in my head) I’d eat there.

Me: (Out loud) When will your next album be out?

JD: Aiming for early spring.

Me: Super! Will you please play in Bamberg and make a beer with Stephan at Mahr’s? He’s a big fan.

JD: Sure. Maybe with the new album.

Me: Groovy. Who is your favorite pre-bop jazz violinist?

JD: Stephane Grappelli

I don’t know anyone else (believe me, I’ve been searching) who can even name a single pre-bop jazz violinist, let alone state a favorite. Impressive. I also learned that he does not play bridge, he hates the creative process (especially delivering material on demand), his birthday is April 14, 1977, he is just as creative when his life is calm as when it is chaotic, he loves St. Bernardus 12, and he does not ever, ever, ever drink when writing music or performing. Although he does enjoy beer. He had just come from a gig at Ommegang where he had plenty of Maredsous 8, which he prefers to the 10. I like that.

What a swell guy!

A couple of days later, while harvesting heather with a dozen others for Cambridge Brewing Company’s annual Heather Ale (which is to say outside hunkered over tiny plants for a few hours of trimming, sweating, and being bug food) I put on JD’s music. It was a diverse group: an opera major, metal fans, a few indie rock folks. They all loved it. It’s hard not to. Keep an ear out for this one- I don’t think that restaurant will be opening anytime soon.

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Tagged as JD McPherson, Jimmy Sutton, Newport Folk Festival, Newport Storm

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Alten und Neuen (Bamberg)

Bamberg has so much more than smoked beer, although that was my initial reason for planning a trip.

Armed with several maps, Steve Thomas’ Good Beer Guide: Germany (only available in England if you’re trying to find it), a rental car, and a reservation at Alt-Ringlein in the city-center, I approached Bamberg a day earlier than planned. I knew I was off to a good start when my hotel not only allowed me to arrive early on a moment’s notice, they upgraded my room. The view from my window is above.

Bamberg sits on top of a hill (or seven…) and is composed of narrow cobbled streets. Charming, but hard to know where cars are allowed. (I still confuse the “no parking” signs with the “do not enter” signs) My hotel had parking, but on my way into town the GPS sent me down a pedestrian-only street. Many non-English speakers enthusiastically made me aware of this. I chucked the misleading device onto the passenger seat, smiled sheepishly, backed up, and navigated with my internal compass across the river to my hotel. I had to then back the car downhill onto a metal suspended contraption inside a parking garage too short to stand in. I told myself I’d fetch the car the next day to explore the beer destinations outside of the city. I didn’t get into the car again until I left for the airport five days later.

And I definitely needed a beer.

After a house helles at Alt-Ringlein (they don’t actually make it there anymore) I ventured out to find what I’d been told is the finest example of Rauchbier in Bamberg: Spezial (above). I was skeptical. I mean how different can smoked beer be?

The beer garden was full, but with what I soon learned is usual Bamberg hospitality, a couple of sippers invited me to join their table. Over my visit I ended up doing this a lot, and always managing to join locals in spite of the dense crowds of tourists.

It turns out smoked beers, like any other style, can be quite different from one another. I tried several other rauchbiers in Bamberg, but I returned to Spezial daily for what I thought was the best to keep my beer-barometer in tune. The smokiness is different than all others: subtle- not choking or charred, somehow a little sweet like mesquite or hickory. The finish is soft and refreshing, even on a hot July day. It makes you crave another sip after each swallow. Really quite fine.

Most of the beer destinations in Bamberg open at 9am, and are fairly
full by 11. Definitely my kind of town. I started early the next day with the longest walk from my hotel (a little over 2 kilometers) to Café Abseits.

This place boasts a 100 rating on RateBeer.com, meaning one of the finest beer bars in the world. It’s easy to understand why. The menu features rotating local craft beer on draft and several exceptional bottles; the service is knowledgable and sweet; if you write things in a notebook while drinking you will get a visit from kindly Gerhard Schoolmann. He will explain everything and make recommendations on where else to go.

The “Bierprobe aller 5 Faßbier” above includes Gänstaller-Bräu Kellerbier, Mönchsambacher Lager, Keesmann Herren pils, Huppendorfer Weizenbier, and Huppendorfer Vollbier. Schoolmann told me about a local brewer who makes the Gänstaller, and said his bar is worth a trip because it has a lot of wonderful local beers I won’t find elsewhere- music to my ears! I had planned to go the next evening for a special beer dinner, but as the time approached to leave I just could not imagine myself navigating back on the tricky streets to the hotel in the dark after sampling beers when I could barely do it sober in the daylight. Nope- too risky. It is my one regret of the trip that I didn’t go.

Below is a shot of the lovely bridge I crossed each day and the river it spans. (No cars allowed!)

Over the next few days I hit more beer destinations than I should probably admit- all within walking distance of the Alt-Ringlein: Ambräusianum, Fässla, Greifenklau, Kachelofen, Kaiserdom, Keesmann, Klosterbräu, Mahr’s, Pelikan, Schlenkerla, Stilbruch, Stöhrenkeller, Torschuster, Wilde-Rose-Keller, Eckert, and (thanks to a kind local with a car) the grounds of the Altenburg castle.

Each one had a story, but I’ll keep it to three.

Thomas Grube (above, with his gal Martina) is a cool cat. He presides over the beer and the music (all on vinyl) at a tiny gem called Torschuster. Unlike most bars in Bamberg (and Europe) there are seats at the bar, and people are encouraged to belly up and chat with Thomas. I love that.

After an evening of fine beer and bonding, I suggested that I return in 10 years to take over. He didn’t laugh. I’ll keep you posted.

Later that week at an outside concert I ran into Thomas and his family again, and he invited me to their home around the corner, below . Do you think I could take over the house too? I’m ready to move now!

The biggest surprise was that in this bastion of German brewing tradition, with an older beer purity law by 25 years than the 1516 Reinheitsgebot, the two best beers I tried were completely non-traditional.

The first was at Greifenklau, made by Siggi (pictured above with his tanks) who can point back to many generations of family brewers here. He made a dry-hopped pils for his sister’s wedding. The wedding was the next day, and somehow I got to try it. (Below) Unlike many American dry-hopped beers that lose all sense of proportion, this was elegant and clean. The dry-hopping added a refreshing bouquet to the underlying pils.

The story of the other great beer- and the best beer of my trip- is a bit longer.

I love wine. The marketing hype of beer drinkers pitted against wine drinkers is ridiculous because a well made fermented beverage is delicious- Period. I find brewers who say they don’t like wine a little suspicious- just like chefs who smoke. It’s not a deal breaker, but to me it’s a strike against their palate judgment and credibility that the beer (or food) will have to overcome. In my experience it often does not.

On the other hand, brewers who embrace wine making (BFM’s Jèrôme Rebetez and Russian River’s Vinnie Cilurzo come to mind) take beer to another level, often with cult followings and connoisseurs’ accolades.

This is all to say that when I visited Mahr’s lovely little beer garden, I literally ran smack in to brewer Stephan Michel (below). I hadn’t told him I was coming. Stephan is a person with a certain reputation, as am I. I made certain both remained intact.

He handed me a glass with his little experiment, not yet in bottles. Fest Cuvée. Fermented in wine barrels, dried out with champagne yeast. Super soft finish and bone dry- one of the ten best beers I’ve ever had. Stephan told me the price he plans to sell these limited bottles for, and I said I’d gladly pay double. Probably not smart, but trust me you would too!

And both of these edgy beers from Bamberg. Let’s just say that things are changing. Now if I can just convince him to put the U in cans…

One more thing really struck me about this gorgeous city- the sounds of it. The church bells. The non-stop tourist leaders taking their little crowds around. The evening hum of people drinking in the narrow streets. The live music in the plaza- from African drumming to modern oom-pah bands that sneak in Mancici tunes. I am especially grateful to have been introduced to JD McPherson on someone’s car stereo. Give it a listen. He’s playing at the Newport Folk Festival next Friday (July 26). Join me!

As I write this from Cambridge USA, accompanied by a bottle of Weyermann’s Pumpernickel Porter given to me Gerhard Schoolman on my last day at Café Abseits, I need to thank several people. Will Shelton for convincing me to book a room well in advance and suggesting the best places; Yvan de Baets for giving me a book called Brauns Brauerei Atlas – Franken that contains the most useful pull-out map of Bamberg beer destinations; Bernard from 12 Apôtres in Strasbourg (See October 2012) for sound advice and local literature. And of course I’m grateful to all those mentioned in this post for making my first exploration unforgettable. Danke sein!

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July 20, 2013 · 2:29 pm

July 16, 2013 · 7:05 pm

Hamburg Special (Hamburg, Germany)

The rumors are true: I crashed a bachelor party in Hamburg to get in on a craft beer tasting. But there is more to the story. Really!

The truth is that I went to Hamburg to visit dear friends for a few days. In between the cartography conference in Helsinki (see previous post) and beer in Bamberg (upcoming post if I can get it together) I decided not to research the Hamburg beer scene at all. I inteded all of my attention to be on my friends; none on my own interests- that was the plan.

You can see why. They’re adorable! And even nicer than they look. Knowing me as they do (but not necessarily being craft beer people) they did their own investigation. And brought me to Altes Mädchen.

We ordered the cute mermaid-paddle sampler. Still- I suspected nothing. Even though the tag line on the menu (in English) is “Real Craft”. I can be thick sometimes. Then I sniffed the Pale, then tasted the Zwickel- and I finally figured it out. The brewery behind the restaurant – Ratsherrn- is quite special.

Once I’d finally been hit over the head with it, I asked our server a bunch of questions. That’s when she asked if I wanted to join the tasting and brewery tour that was about to start. Of course I did! But I swear I didn’t know it was a bachelor party. That’s just my usual luck.

The groom and his brother are below:

They didn’t seem to mind me crashing their tour. We were all quite giddy. And after the tour and fassbiere, I tried the cumin schnapps called Helbing (super!) and got a tour of Hamburg nightlife with dancing silliness. Next day a boat tour of the harbor, an afternoon at the wonderful smelling Jenisch gardens sipping a rhubarb juice/sparkling water combo called rhabarberasaft-schorle, a visit to my friend’s secret dress shop, fabulous sushi across the street from their place, many aperol spritzs. All before returning to- you guessed it- Altes Mädchen! To be clear- I mean that it was so fantastic, in three days we went twice. And when I return it will be my first stop.

That last shot is of me with their son, a delightful little boy. For those who know me well, you can close your mouths now. He only speaks German; I only English (in spite of my attempts at French) but we bonded and I will be back to continue my role as the family’s eccentric American friend. I do it so well!

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Tagged as Altes Mädchen, Hamburg, Ratsherrn