Drinking It All: #’s 43 & 44 Southern IPAs

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

Lots of stuff to catch up on. I’ve made some beers. I’ve tried some beers. I’ve joined a brewclub, so I’ve met some folks who also make some beers. I’ve also decided to start whittling away at the beers I’ve gotten and saved for this particular blog. When I went to the beer-fridge just now, I noticed that I’ve got two IPAs made by southern breweries: Abita’s Jockamo IPA and Good People’s IPA. So I figured I’d just knock both of them out at once in one thematically coherent post. I’ll start with the Good People (based in Birmingham, AL) IPA, which as you can see below comes in a can. Canned IPA. Why the shit not?

southern IPAs

This IPA is about as good an example of the style (at least my preference within the style) as I can think of. It’s super bitter, but the flavor of the hops comes through pretty well. And even coming out of a can, you get a smell of the hops way easy. (I’m trying it right out of the can and in a little 4 oz taster glass.) There’s not too much malt character at all–this beer seems like, as they say at Dogfish Head, a hop-delivery vehicle. And it’s good at it. Which is to say that this beer’d be like the UPS overnight of hop delivery versus Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale being the USPS Priority. Analogies!

Can’t really say enough good things about Good People Brewing Co. Being so close to Birmingham, I’ve tried a good bit of their beers, and I’ve not only never been disappointed, but I’ve always been super excited about the beers. They truly know their shit. Pick it up if you can.

My other southern IPA is Abita’s Jockamo IPA. I’ve had this beer plenty of times before now, so I’m somewhat familiar with what I’m getting into.

It’s not really fair to compare these two beers, or maybe it is, but I’m going to try not to even though I’m basically trying them at the same time. The Jockamo IPA (brewed by Abita Brewing Co. in Abita Springs, LA) is a mildish IPA in terms of the hop character. It’s certainly got hop bitterness and the hop flavor stands out from the malt base, but the smell (if I said aroma I’d basically have to drink the beer with my pinky aimed at the sky) seems more of the malt than the hops. All that said, this is a hoppy beer. And a hoppy IPA. And it tastes good. But it’s just not quite as dry as I like an IPA to be–it’s a little sweeter than what I want an IPA to be. It’s a full-bodied IPA, and if that’s the kind of IPA you like, then this is your kind of IPA.

So two good and different IPAs from the good old southern states. Louisiana is one of my most favorite places in the States for lots of reasons, Abita beers being just one (Walker Percy and Cooter Brown’s being two others). My wife’s from Birmingham, so it’s automatically an awesome place, but they also have a kick ass beer fest each year, and aside from Memphis, Atlanta, and New Orleans, they consistently get the best bands (have seen Man Man twice and the National once in B’ham). We here in the south might be last in lots of the categories we want to be first in, but we’re damn sure not last in the making good beer category.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? One thumb up for Good People and one thumb up for Abita.

Brewed Slowly: #17 Kitchen Sink Belgian Blonde

The last beer I made, about 2 weeks ago, was what we’ll call a kitchen sink beer. I had a smack pack of Irish Ale yeast and a bunch of different types of hops around the house, and I figured if I could just get some grain, I could throw it all together and make something maybe, possibly, just maybe possibly worth drinking. When we were in Birmingham for the beer festival, we stopped by the homebrew store and I explained my ingredient situation to one of the guys working there. He suggested using the Irish ale yeast, Saaz and Northdown hops, and some pilsner grain to make a basic Belgian blonde. Fantastic, all I needed was the pilsner grain. So I picked up 12 pounds of it and had a potential beer on my hands. (I was concerned somewhat about the pilsner grain’s level of modification (because I’m not yet comfortable with multiple step mashes), but the guy assured me it was fully modified (hope he was right).)

I don’t really know what to expect from the beer because it’s actually still in the primary. But it sounds good in theory. Hopefully light and malty with mild Saaz hop flavor.


12# Belgian Pilsner (2-row)

2 oz. 40L Crystal malt

28g Northdown hop pellets

28g Czech Saaz whole leaf hops

1 tsp Irish Moss

Wyeast Irish Ale starter


1. One-step mash of the grains at 152 F for 1 hour in 3.75 gallons of water.

2. Batch sparged with 4.25 gallons of water at 175 F. Vorlaufed and added to brewpot.

3. Added Northdown hops at boil.

4. Boiled for an hour.

5. Added Irish Moss with 15 minutes left in boil.

6. Added Saaz hops with 5 minutes left in boil.

what a setup for cooling wort

7. Cooled down the wort overnight and pitched the yeast starter the next day.*

*This has become pretty much my SOP with regard to yeast pitching. It’s probably not the safest way to pitch yeast because the wort sits around for so long, but so far (4 beers in) it’s worked. I either stop up the carboy with sanitized foil or a stopper and airlock overnight.

My 10 plate chiller just doesn’t quite bring down the boiling wort to the temp I need to pitch at (which this could be because of my brewing practices, I’m not completely sure–but I’m also not sure what I could do differently. Ideas?).

fermentation beneath an SDRE t-shirt

This beer was the first I’ve fermented with any kind of temp control system (see above). What amounts to putting a t-shirt on the carboy and sitting the whole thing in a tub of water is what I’ll say is my temp control system. Guess what. It works. (The t-shirt soaks up the water and cools the entire carboy.) This setup kept the wort down to about 68 F when it would easily have stayed around 75 F without the t-shirt. And also, you might have noticed (but you probably didn’t) the carboy rocking a circa 2000 Sunny Day Real Estate t-shirt–scored at an awesome July 2000 show at the House of Blues in New Orleans. The shirt’s always been a little big for me (uninteresting story), so I’ll let the carboy have the honor from now on.

On Yeast Starters

As you already know, loyal reader, I made the switch to all-grain brewing recently and have had to upgrade my brewing practice and system accordingly (read: I got new toys). Some of the upgrades have made the brewing process easier, some have made it more time-consuming but not necessarily harder. In theory, all the upgrades have made the beer more consistently good-tasting, predictable, and fool-proof. I’ve written about some of these upgrades already (e.g., the mash tun, converted keg pot), but there is one upgrade that isn’t related to equipment at all that I’ve yet to say anything about: the yeast starter.

just a wee little beer

*Disclaimer* This post is about yeast starters (as if the previous paragraph and title don’t make that obvious, as if), and so much-to-most of what follows may not be extremely interesting to the general reader who isn’t brewing beer or familiar with the process. But it will make sense. So even if you don’t need to make a yeast starter, you should be able to read this and wrap your mind around the existence and benefits of this thing called the yeast starter. That is, if you are actually interested in reading the rest. And if you’re still reading this far, let’s just say you are. Interested that is.

Ok. I’ve made yeast starters for the last two beers I made. Only the last two. This means a couple of things:

1. I haven’t yet actually tasted a beer I’ve made with a starter.

2. I ain’t exactly Einstein on the subject.

Also, yeast starters are only applicable to liquid yeast. If you’re using dry yeast, you should rehydrate it (which will be another post altogether).

I learned about starters by reading posts on the Northern Brewer and Home Brew Talk forums and by watching youtube videos. I’d like to say I read up on the subject in The Joy Of Homebrewing, but I didn’t. In any case, youtube is a great place to see how other people make starters and see what fits your capabilities best. In particular, I like Don OsbornJoe Polvino, and BrewAcademy (didn’t catch the guy’s name, but his explanations are accessible and fun to watch).

With that in mind, I’ll get on to what I’ve got to say about yeast starters. What I have to say is basically that starters are easy–but do require a tiny bit of planning–and can ease the doubt and fear that sometimes follows brewing (at least when I do it) by ensuring fast proof of fermentation.

Here’s how I make my starter. First I get a 1 gallon wine jug clean and sanitized. My wife occasionally makes wine, so we’ve got some empty wine jugs around. While the jug is getting sanitized, I bring half a gallon of water to a boil. Actually, let’s just do this as a list.

0. I take the liquid yeast out of the refrigerator and smack the pack if it’s Wyeast.

1. Clean and sanitize a 1 gallon glass jug (or milk container, or pretty much anything that holds a gallon and can be fitted with an airlock or tinfoil lid).

2. Boil half a gallon of water.

3. Add half a cup of dry malt extract to water. (Light extract would be best, but for reasons not completely germane here I’ve been using dark.)

4. Boil for 15 minutes. Call it wort. This is basically a tiny little half-gallon beer.

5. Cool down the wort as quickly as possible. I use an ice bath in the sink.

6. Go back to before step 1 and make sure I’ve taken the liquid yeast out of the refrigerator.

7. When the wort’s below 80 F, pour it into the sanitized jug and shake the damn shit out of it (yeast needs O2 to do its thing).

8. Pour in the yeast and cap it with sanitized tin foil.

Shazaam. Yeast starter.

Now, the other extremely important point is that this entire process needs to happen at least a day before you make beer. Here’s why:

A yeast starter is a way to cultivate a proper amount a yeast to pitch into a given batch of beer. The amount of yeast in a Wyeast smack pack or White Labs vial is adequate for pitching straight into cooled wort, but it isn’t ideal (when pitching a vial or smack pack, the yeast has to grow itself first, which can stress out the yeast, which can cause off-flavors in the beer, which just isn’t good for anybody, which etc.). Making a starter ensures that the amount of yeast pitched into the beer is sufficient to start fermenting wort quickly without unnecessarily straining the yeast. So giving the yeast you plan to pitch into your wort a little warm up wort to get started helps it do a better job when it gets to the 5 gallon (or whatever size you brew) batch. It’s like a practice before the actual game. It’s important to give the yeast at least a day to work in the starter before pitching it into a full size batch of beer. And if you can plan it so the starter is made a few days before the beer, you can chill the starter down the night before you pitch it. Chilling down the starter settles the yeast at the bottom of the jug so that when it’s ready to pitch, the wort can be mostly poured off (decanted) and just the yeast can be pitched into the 5 gallons of wort. (That way you’re not adding the malt extract beer from the starter to the real beer you made.)

The other big benefit of a starter is that fermentation starts extremely quickly. The two starters I’ve used have gotten serious fermentation going in less than 12 hours. I’m talking about 1 inch krausens (thick foam at the top of the wort) and all kinds of little yeast particles floating around. No more worrying that the yeast isn’t working.

Like I said, I haven’t actually verified the results of using a starter by tasting the beer, but going on what I’ve read about yeast strain and starters and what I’ve seen in the fermentation of my last two beers, I see no reason at all for anyone making beer, all-grain, partial grain, or extract, to not use a yeast starter.

Birmingham Magic City Beer Festival

A few Saturdays ago, my wife and I went to the Magic City Brewfest in Birmingham, AL. We’d been to the festival for the first time two years ago and had an awesome time. Last year we missed it, so it was nice to make it this year. While the festival has grown, it’s still a manageable event. There were certainly way too many beers to even think about trying them all, which was good, but there weren’t so many people that it was a pain to have to wait in long lines. It did seem like there were more breweries this year than two years back, and that’s always good, too.

I didn’t have a list of the beers to use as a checklist for the beers I tried because the little programs ran out pretty early on. When we went to pick one up, one of the festival volunteers told us they hadn’t gotten enough copies of the program, which is, I guess, understandable. But then he added “We’re a non-profit, so we mess stuff up all the time.” Quote of the day. All this to say that I didn’t actually keep track of the beers I had as I had them. But, I did look up the beer list when we got home and was able to put together a reasonably accurate list of what I tried. I’m sure there were some beers that didn’t appear on the list that I tried but don’t remember, but maybe not too many.

It’s not annotated, but here’s what I had:

Anderson Valley Hop Ottin IPA

Avondale Battlefield IPA

Ayinger Celebrator–got a souvenir plastic goat that they hang around the neck of the bottles

Bell’s Oberon

Big Al Brewing Irish Red Ale

Blue Pants Corduroy Rye IPA

Boulevard Tank 7 Farmhouse

Choc Beer Last Laugh White Ale

Cigar City Maduro Brown Ale

Good People Dark Farmhouse–one of the best I had–I’ve been on a saison kick lately

Good People El Gordo

Great Divide Colette Saison

Lazy Magnolia Reb Ale

Left Hand 400 Pound Monkey

North Coast Scrimshaw Pilsner

Ommegang Witte

Rogue Brutal Bitter–one of my all-time favorites, beer fest or no

Sierra Nevada Northern Hemisphere

Sprecher Pipers Scotch-style Ale

Straight to Ale Monkeynaut IPA

Straight to Ale Stop Work 689 Kolsch–another one of my favorites for the day

Yazoo Hefeweizen

I know it looks like a lot of beers, but if you haven’t been to a beer festival before, be aware that the beers are poured as 2 oz. samples. So you get to try lots more beer than you’d be able to if you got a whole beer each time.

The festival was definitely a good time. The beers were good, and even though it was hotter than eight hells, it was a pretty nice day. I’ll take an afternoon outside drinking good beers any old damn day. One other nice touch to the festival was that there was a complete lack of Big Three beers. I wanted to say a ‘noticeable lack,’ but I’m not sure I really actually noticed they weren’t there at the time. Read into it whatever you want. To me it reads: Awesome.

One other thing that seemed worth noting was that I saw a guy with a tattoo on one of his legs from the knee to his ankle. Not just any tattoo. A tattoo of an argyle sock. That’s a statement. Of something.

Also, Raise Your Pints (the MS group pushing for higher alcohol limits in MS) was at the festival, and we met a fellow homebrewer, Wick (take a look at his own homebrew site here), that lives here in town. Wick stopped by when we brewed the Big Swell IPA and dropped off a few of his own beers, two of which were 1st place winners in a homebrew competition. These beers were good. Right now, I’m drinking his Chocolate Hazelnut Stout, which has a strong hazelnut taste that fades into a dark chocolate flavor at the end. Pretty damn good. The others (a brown ale and a Scottish 70 Shilling) were equally good.

chocolate hazelnut stout–it’s hard to see, but it’s dark. way dark.

Counting down days to the next beer festival whenever and whereever that will be.

Brewed Slowly Catch-Up: #15 Dry Stout and #16 Maui Brewing Co. Big Swell Clone

Recently, I’ve made some beers I haven’t told you guys about, and since I’m sitting here with no power (there’s a thunderstorm going through), I figured I’d write about some beer while I drink a beer in the near dark—the laptop’s got about 4 hours left of battery. Earlier, around the middle of May, I made a dry Irish stout, and just last week, I made a clone of Maui Brewing Co.’s Big Swell IPA.

I made the stout because I had some dark specialty grains and various hops sitting around that I wanted to finally get rid of and a couple packs of dry yeast that needed to be used. So I ordered some grain and made it on the cheap. It’d been such a long time since I’d made a stout that I figured it was time to try it out again. The Big Swell IPA was a kind of request of a friend who’d just come back from Hawaii and had the beer there. We went in together to split the cost and then we’ll split the beer when it’s bottled.

I’m going to rework my standard recipe explanation and basically give you the ingredients and basic steps I used to make the beer—basically less talk and more specifics.

So, first the stout.


9 lbs Maris Otter 2 row pale malt

2 lbs flaked barley

4 oz roasted barley

18 oz chocolate malt

19 g Warrior hop pellets

1 tsp Irish Moss

(2) 11.5 g packs of Safbrew S-33 dry yeast


1. One-step mash of the grains at 152 F for 1 hour in 3.5 gallons of water.

2. Added the specialty grains during batch sparge.

3. Batch sparged with 4.5 gallons of water at 175 F. Vorlaufed and added to brewpot.

4. Added Warrior hops at boil.

5. Boiled for an hour.

6. Added Irish Moss with 15 minutes left in boil.

7. Cooled down the wort and pitched the yeast.

I rehydrated the dry yeast and before pitching, and I only actually say bubbling the very next day. After that, it seemed like nothing was happening. But I let it sit in the primary fermentor for 2 weeks. When I went to keg it, I took a reading, which was 1.020, and figured that I might have pitched the yeast with the wort a little too warm. In any case, the beer tasted alright and fermented most of the way down. So I kegged it up and will carbonate it this week. (I got lazy and have just let it ‘age’ in the keg for the last week or so.

Now, the Big Swell IPA.

big swell IPA after a couple of days


14.5 lbs Rahr 2 row pale malt

14 oz Munich malt

7 oz 40 L Caramel/crystal malt

16 oz 10 L Caramel/crystal malt

1 oz Columbus hop pellets

0.75 oz Centennial hop pellets

1 oz Chinook hop pellets

1 oz Citra hop pellets

1 oz Nugget hop pellets

1 tsp Irish Moss

Wyeast American Ale II starter


1. One-step mash of the grains at 150 F for 1 hour in 4.68 gallons of water.

2. Added the specialty grains during batch sparge.

3. Batch sparged with 2.5 gallons of water at 175 F. Vorlaufed and added to brewpot.

4. Added Columbus and Centennial hops at boil.

5. Boiled for an hour.

6. Added Irish Moss with 15 minutes left in boil.

7. Cooled down the wort overnight and pitched the yeast starter the next day.

This was actually my first time making a yeast starter. I basically boiled half a gallon of water with half a cup of dark dry malt extract (DME) for 15 minutes, cooled it down, then pitched a somewhat expanded smack pack of yeast into it. I let this set for just over 2 days before I pitched it into the wort. I was a little concerned about decanting off the weak wort, especially since it was made with dark DME, but ended up pitching it all in. The color still looks fine. And there’s not way I’m going to not make a starter again—the wort was bubbling heavily after about only 10 hours. It’s been fermenting for about 5 days, and it’s still pretty active.

Drinking It All: #42 Berliner Style Weisse, Brettanomyces Lambicus Special Edition

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

champagne pretending to be beer

I’ve finally gotten around to trying the Brettanomyces Lambicus I picked up in Atlanta about three months ago. I’d read about these brettanomyces (which is the type of yeast used in the beer), or brett for short, beers somewhere, I don’t remember where, and how the wild yeast that ferments these beers is such a monster that most breweries won’t let it anywhere near their regular fermentation tanks for fear of contamination. Basically, this type of yeast produces a sour flavor and smell in beers and can easily contaminate and ruin other tamer strands of yeast and beers. I usually like sour stuff alright, so I’ve been wanting to try these sour beers for a while, especially since they are made with what amounts to wild yeast.

It’s a 3% ABV beer, which means I can’t keep it around too long before it goes bad, so I’ve opened it today, hoping that it’s not already past it’s prime.

The beer is a little sour, just like I understood these beers to be, but also fruity tasting. It tastes a little like champagne. And the super light color of the beer kind of reinforces this taste characteristic in a visual way (i.e., it looks like champagne). I’m trying to think of a situation this beer would fit well, and, not to harp on the champagne thing, all that comes to mind is pouring it into champagne flutes and making toasts–it’s a super light (in color and taste) beer that, I think, could fool lots of macrobrewery drinkers into drinking a somewhat fancy Belgian style lambic.

One more thing about this beer–it is heavily carbonated. So much so that when I opened it, it kind of popped. The head could be called foam just as easily as head. So even more champagne characteristics. The carbonation does seem to take away from my ability to taste it–so I’m swirling the beer to try to get rid of some of the bubbles.

That’s a little better, but it’s still pretty tart tasting. And, one more time, champagne-y.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? This particular brett beer–I’ll pass on next time. But I will definitely look for other brett beers.

Drinking It All: #41 Guinness

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

guinness draught can

One word: yes.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? Ditto.

Drinking It All: #40 Sierra Nevada Pale Ale

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

Today I’ve got Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale, which damn near unarguably holds the place as America’s standard pale ale. It’s a beer you can find at most restaurants/grocery stores that carry more than just the big three domestics, and it’s green label makes it pretty instantly recognizable. So it’s not necessarily a rare find as far as beer goes, and the tendency may be to discount its quality because of its familiarity. But to discount this beer would be a very silly thing to do.

Sierra Nevada’s one of the big, important craft breweries in America. They were/are an integral part of the craft beer movement, and they make a solid little line-up of beers, of which the Pale Ale is probably the most well-known. I’ve already lauded their Torpedo Extra IPA, but somehow still haven’t written up the Pale Ale any of the times I’ve had it at the house. Blame familiarity and the fact that I always just put it off until the next 6-pack. Not anymore.

This pale ale is a solid work-horse of a beer. It’s hoppy the way good pale ales should be, and, to be honest, it’s borderline hoppier than many IPAs. The beer features Cascade hops pretty prominently, and the hop flavor heavily resembles grapefruit. This is the kind of fruit beer (i.e., a beer that’s fruity without using actual fruit) that I can get into. And there’s just enough malt character to balance out the significant amount of hop flavor that the beer is known for.

The color is pretty standard for a pale ale (which may be due, in part, to the fact that Sierra Nevada has had such a hand in establishing the standard in American pale ales), and the smell is a strong, fruity hop smell–again, Cascade hops.

(A good friend of mine has told me more than once that he’s not a fan of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. He’s a bartender, so I’m always (even though I’ve heard the story before) interested to know why. (His response to the question brings up an issue that I’ve not yet really addressed on this here blog, so let’s get into it briefly here with the agreement that we’ll tackle it at length later.) As a bartender, his experience has been that some beer drinkers (of the slightly higher-held nose variety) will ask for a beer that the bar doesn’t have. (Given the place I live, it’s not hard to imagine a bar not having whatever specific beer you want to drink–we’re pretty limited by alcohol level in this state.) When they can’t get what they want, they’ll apparently ‘settle’ for just a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, usually with the stipulation that they be given a glass. And while this seems like a perfectly reasonable request, the problem is that it’s always presented as the kind of third-string, ‘if you don’t have anything else’, last resort of the beer drinker instead of a good alternative to whatever beer they’d initially had in mind. This kind of passive aggressive snobbery is likely to be enough to turn anyone off to a beer, and it’s not exactly a positive reflection of Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale in terms of quality. I’m not sure I’m explaining this that well…

Basically, Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale is a first rate beer. To have to condescend to drink it implies a certain amount of insecurity on the beer drinker’s part (yes, I’m talking about being an insecure beer drinker). Sorry that the bar doesn’t carry the specific style of beer you had in mind when you sat down. Life’s a real bitch, ain’t it? Guess you’ll just have to pick another beer and suffer through it. If you can’t order a good, well-made beer without indirectly pouting about it not being your first choice, well, then I’d rather not hear about your first choice, much less actually drink a beer with you. I have a feeling you’d make my brain hurt.

To get back to my friend, I think a large part of why he doesn’t like Sierra Nevada’s pale ale is that he’s just not nuts about the way it tastes. Which, good. If you just don’t like a beer, then just don’t like it. That’s the inarguable position that is every beer drinker’s right.)

So this pale ale is a good, solid example of what’s really good about American beers.  And in particular, American pale ales.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? Thumbs up. This is the Fender Telecaster of American pale ales–does exactly what it does just as well as any other beer (guitar) and does it simply without a bunch of hoopla. There it is: this is a hoopla-free beer.

Drinking It All: #39 Stone Brewery’s Oaked Arrogant Bastard Ale

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

modesty's overrated

Today I’ve got another Stone Brewery beer to talk about–the Oaked Arrogant Bastard Ale. The Arrogant Bastard Ale is one of the more renowned craft beers, as far as I know, and I’ll admit my own lack of broadness in beer drinking because I’ve never actually tried the Arrogant Bastard Ale before. But my buddy Scooter has gotten pretty interested in craft beers lately and brought back a load of good stuff from his last trip to Louisiana. I traded him a Dogfish Head Palo Santo beer for this Oaked AB Ale. So I actually get to try a special type (i.e., the oaked version) of the AB Ale as my introduction to it.

The Oaked Arrogant Bastard Ale is a strong, malty ale that doesn’t skimp on the hops. The malt gives the beer a heavy feel and taste, but the hops (I’m not sure what kind they’ve used) add a little bit of bitterness (not too much) and a little bit of floral-ness that kind of breaks up the heavy sweetness of the malt. Think of how when Mario busts bricks on Super Mario Bros. and the blocks pop into 4 (I think) little smaller bricks that explode out. Mario’s the hops, and the bricks are the malt flavor–it’s still there, but it’s broken down into smaller pieces that are easier to comprehend. It’s practical, applicable deconstruction within a beer tasting–don’t tell John M. Ellis. Or do, I don’t know. (Apologies for the wide gulf between references that may or may not add anything to the review itself. And for any mixed metaphors I manage to toss in.) The alcohol level’s at 7.2 ABV, which isn’t that crazy high. We’re still in the range of a beer you can drink one or two of in a sitting, but the alcohol, to me, for whatever reason, seems to add a warming character to the taste of the beer. In this case, it’s a good warming character.

The beer is a good rich wood color–somewhere between a red ale and a dark brown ale. I’m not up on my Lovibond scale quite yet, but I’d say it’s about the color of a Newcastle. But it seems darker. The smell, to be honest, I can’t give a good report of. (The pollen’s been gone for probably a month here, but nobody gave my nose the memo. So I have to basically try to inhale the beer when I lift the glass and I still can’t get a good idea of what it smells like.) I do think it smells like oak a little bit though.

Quick editorial aside: the AB ale bottle makes it clear that the ingredients of the beer are “[n]othing but the finest Barley, most aggressive Hops, clearest Water, our proprietary Yeast strain and abundant Arrogance…all with oak chips” (capitalization and lack of terminal comma sic), which fuckin’ awesome. Good beer, like good food, is 95% a result of good starting ingredients–it’s the brewer’s job just to not mess it up. But then I noticed this odd little caveat on the bottle: “WARNING: Some materials used in the colored decorations on this container contain cadmium [,] a chemical known to the State of California to cause birth defects or other reproductive harm.” I guess as long as it’s not known in other states to cause these effects, we’re good to go. Maybe that gargoyle is ominous for a reason.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? Thumbs up. Arrogance is not a deterrent in the case of it being well-founded.

Drinking It All: #38 Terrapin Rye Pale Ale

Drinking It All is a document of my attempt to try every beer in circulation. It’s a Herculean and tragic attempt at best. But it’s the means, not the end that counts here.

a modest IPA

Even though I know I said I was taking a break from IPAs and PAs, I’ve got a fantastic Pale Ale to write about today.  A friend brought me back a few Georgia beers a few weeks ago, 2 0f the 3 I’ve already written about here and here, but he also brought me back a couple Terrapin Rye Pale Ales. I’ve had these beers before on tap in Birmingham and possibly Atlanta, and I’ve always liked them. I’ve just never picked up a 6-pack of them.

I’m going to try to start getting these reviews in under 750 words, so I’ll forgo the rest of the background/context.

The Terrapin Rya Pale Ale is a basic pale ale (e.g., Sierra Nevada’s Pale Ale, Anchor’s Liberty Ale) but with a nice little addition of rye grain. This rye grain might seem at first inconsequential, but it adds a good bit to the beer. And the first thing you’ll notice is the smell. The hops are super-prominent and the rye grain adds a little sharpness to the smell, I think. When your nose gets inside the glass, you can’t help but notice how this beer smells. It smells good. It smells like a pale ale should smell, and I’ve had several many pale ales that I couldn’t really provide a clear description of a smell. (Since so much of our sense of taste relies on our sense of smell, it seems important that a pale ale (i.e., a beer that kind of lives or dies by its hop profile, much of which is identified by smell) actually has a noticeable smell. Terrapin’s RPA has it covered.) The hops are up front, and the rye is a definite part of the smell. You don’t even really have to try to smell this beer when you take a drink–I’ve gotten very used to having to actively smell the beers I drink, so I like not having to in this case.

But what about taste? Well, it ain’t all nose on this beer. The beer has a very clean taste, like Sierra Nevada’s PA, that shows off the bitterness of the hops, and the sharp rye taste lends a kind of woody taste that fits well with the grassy hop flavor. The beer has enough of a malt profile to leave a sweet taste in the mouth, so the amount of hops do well to cut the sweetness.

My one, arguable, criticism is that I’d say there are more hops in the beer than are necessary for a standard PA. It seems hoppy enough to be an IPA. But then, don’t misunderstand this as a complaint–I’m just taking issue with adherence to the form. Which I could easily be completely wrong about, but, to be honest, I’d rather it be exorbitantly hoppy anyway. So it’s not like I’m unhappy with how the beer tastes.

So the beer’s a good one. If you find it on tap, it’s worth a try. Like I said, I’ve had this before on tap, and I liked it then. There’s no reason I shouldn’t like it out of a bottle. Ergo, assuming you find your own beer-liking tendencies rather comparable to mine, there’s no reason you shouldn’t like this beer on either tap or in bottles.

(Kept it well under 750 words. Look out now.)

Thumbs up or thumbs down? Way up. Try this beer before any other PA that you don’t have strong feelings about if it’s (i.e., Terrapin’s RPA) available.