Much has been made of beer cocktails, or “hoptails”, lately. The beerbecue beverage lab has engineered its own. Below are detailed video instructions on the only beer cocktail you’ll ever need (and as a bonus, the Curmudgeon’s identity is finally revealed).
I don’t care how many eggheaded calculator-wielders tell you that temperatures are on the rise, glaciers are melting at an alarming rate, and polar bears can’t swim far enough. Further, I don’t care that a stated effect of climate change is the earlier arrival of Spring and the increasingly delayed arrival of leaf-peeping assholes to New England each Fall. In truth, nothing has actually changed! It’s all in your head, and it’s the craft beer industry’s fault.
Case in point: Dig Spring Seasonal by New Belgium was released this year on February 1. The label has a picture of a Chuck-Taylor-All-Star-wearing hipster casually digging a hole, presumably to plant black cumin, Bordeaux spinach, dragon carrots, or some other similarly ironic- or rare-sounding edible.
One problem: It’s fucking February. It’s no wonder everyone thinks Spring starts early, these a-holes are releasing their Spring seasonal before Punxsutawney Phil has even had a chance to take his first post-hibernation piss.
And they’re not the only ones: Sam Adams Alpine Spring released in January. Flying Dog Garde Dog (Biere de Garde) out in February. Hell, Leinenkugel’s Summer Shandy says, “Screw Spring right in the eye. Let’s skip straight to Summer on February 29th.”
As for Fall, everyone thinks it’s suddenly taking longer for the leaves to change color and fall. Climate change? No! We’re having pumpkin beers thrown at us beginning in August. Of course Fall feels longer. And where the hell do you even get pumpkins in August?
In further support of my theory, Notch Brewing recently had to pull their harvest beer. Apparently if you use actual, fresh, end-of-the-season harvesty stuff in your beer, as Notch does, it will be too late for Fall shelf space. That’s messed up.
Listen, I don’t know if it’s the fault of brewers, distributors, or retailers. I don’t care. Cut it out. My damn allergies are starting already this year.
Brian Strumke, who is the brewer, chief executive, president, receptionist, janitor, mailroom clerk, etc., for Stillwater Artisanal Ales, held a recent email interview with DCBeer.com. After an in-depth discussion of Stillwater’s Premium Post-Prohibition Style Ale, they move on to miscellaneous topics such as Strumke’s thoughts on the state of session-strength beer at the moment. His reply:
“I personally really enjoy lower ABV beers for their refreshment and drinkability. I think there is a time and place for beers of all strengths and don’t want to turn the concept of producing moderate weight craft beers into a trend, I just think the idea of session beers becoming popular again is rubbish.. 90+% of beer drinkers have been and do drink beers between 4-5%. I just think that ’session beer’ hype came as a backlash to the popularity of heavyweight extreme beers that took the scene by storm, and while I love to get down with a case of Prima Pils, I also like to session with Orval (6.5%) when I am in Belgium, but that’s how I roll.”
Then for the rest of interview, Strumke uses the term “session” with quotation marks. Beautiful. That’s how the beerbecue household rolls, too (except we don’t need to be in Belgium to “session” with 6.5%). In fact, some of his thoughts are strikingly similar to beerbecue’s thesis on the ridiculous “session” morass: What is a Session Beer? Who the F$%k Cares?
I enjoy Stillwater immensely, when I can actually get my grubby biscuit snatchers on it. And I have heard anecdotal evidence that Brian Strumke is a cool guy. However, I may now have officially lost all capacity for objectivity with respect to Stillwater and Mr. Strumke (as he will hereafter be known on beerbecue). In fact, Mr. Strumke, you can come over to my house and drink all my beer if you want to. If I am low, I will make a beer run just for you. And you can rest assured, Mr. Strumke, that the word “session” will ne’er be uttered, save in scorn or jest. ;7
This topic is of negligible interest to many, but apparently highly contentious for very few. So, it’s perfect for Scott’s crappy blog. This term “session beer” and the phrase “this beer is sessionable” have been popping up, with increasing frequency. I hate it. I am not sure why, and it’s probably not sane…but here goes:
The term “session beer” appears to be of British origin, and seems to mean that the beer is suitable for an extended, uninebriated period of moderate- to high-volume drinking. In the US, I have never heard anyone use the term “session” to describe any period of drinking. So, why would we start using such a fancy-pants derivative thereof? Maybe the British do, but the word sounds so silly in this context. (It’s OK, British readers (if any). We say silly things, too. I lived in London for a year, and I encountered numerous cross-eyed looks from my American expressions.)
Of course, I have accepted many words of foreign origin relating to beer. But this one is utterly useless. It doesn’t tell me anything about the damn beer that the name, style, and ABV don’t tell me already. And quite frankly, I find it a bit paternalistic.
Even worse, there is no consensus on what it actually means. British beer colonialist, Dingsbeerblog, clings to a hoary notion of the session beer’s Maginot line, which is based in a meticulous analysis of the historical output of British brewers’ lowest strength beers (4% ABV or less). Ding’s logic is nearly the same as that employed by Latin-loving twits who have claimed for years that we shouldn’t split infinitives. Well, I’ll split infinitives if I want to fucking split infinitives. Likewise, if I accepted the term “session”, I would gladly call 21st Amendment’s 4.4 percent ABV Bitter American a session beer.
Beeradvocate tries to draw a somewhat arbitrary distinction, based on what ABV won’t cause the average individual to get loopy (5% or less). Beeradvocate even uses the term in a cutesy sentence that, if actually uttered by a man in a bar, would be deserving of a swift kick to the testicles.
And my favorite is from Aleheads, who essentially conclude that all beer is generally “sessionable”. Although, this begs the question: Why do we even need the damn word, then?
So, no more “session”. Just pick some beer appropriate for your circumstances (lower ABV before a job interview, while operating a front-end loader, or while juggling chainsaws…and higher for any other circumstance). Then, drink your damn beer, and stop fussing about what to call it. Then we can get on with debating more important topics like: Why do men have nipples? Is Khloe a real Kardashian? And are Justin Beiber and Selena Gomez for realzies?
by the Curmudgeon (Pretension Ombudsman)
Hello people who Scott has pestered to support his new blogging hobby. A hobby, by the way, that doesn’t require him to leave the house or consort with others. I wonder whose idea that was? Anyway, I am your guest poster for this evening.
Why am I posting? Because the other day I read this:
“These little beauties have a light to moderate sweetness, some fruit (like apple, banana, pear, or oranges), earthiness, and sometimes a slight peppery, clovey, or spicey flavor from the Belgian yeast.”
If you are anything like me, that shiver you just experienced is known as a douche chill.
I look to the picture I have of Scott in my bedroom and I see a man who fathered a child. A man who was honest-to-god hit with a barstool in a bar fight (don’t worry Scott, I meant honest-to-God). Unfortunately, I now also see a man who is trying to suck all the fun out of drinking. Well, sir, fuck you. Today we review:
Review: National Bohemian has a subtle beer-type taste that, when consumed quickly in quantities of 5 to 6, produces a pleasant buzz that is perfect for enjoying a college football game or forgetting, ever so fleetingly, the disappointment that is life. The fellow on the can appears to have lost an eye or perhaps is winking. Either way, he is compelling enough to have sustained my gaze for an awkwardly long period of time. I better pull my crap together.
This beer is best paired with an unkempt, older gentleman, like the one sitting to my left at the bar. A man who can successfully rationalize a daily drinking habit with one word: “retirement”.
I wish to end my review with a simple thought. Never use words like “clovey” or “fruit” to describe a beer. Better yet, never describe a beer. It shouldn’t matter. If you are not drinking to feel euphoric and better tell tall tales, you are flatly doing it wrong. Don’t be that guy.
Now, from the barstool to my right where she has ignored me for the better part of three hours while reading yet another book about vampires is my haybag for her review.
The Curmudgeon’s Haybag Review: Your post was incredibly disappointing. Not unlike your lovemaking and inability to produce viable semen. A part of me truly hates you.
Soon, beerbecue will start a new guest post series, known as the Pretension Prevention Series. The purpose of the series is to remind us that we shouldn’t turn beer into a douchetastic elite hipster-fest. Also see itsafuckingbeer.
The first post is a review of National Bohemian (Natty Boh) by newly-minted blogger, the Curmudgeon. He is at the far end of the hipster-phobia spectrum, and he may have a drinking problem. His views don’t necessarily reflect the views of beerbecue, but there is some value in his post…somewhere.