Tag: avery

Mixed Feelings

Before beer was beer, it was blended. The first fermented drinks were mixes of fruit, honey, and grains. Sugar was scarce; anything sweet went into the pot. Even when brewers figured out how to malt and mash barley effectively enough to make wort, fermentation remained a mystery, and sluggish batches were jump-started with fresh wine or mead. The Hymn to Ninkasi mentions “brewing a wort with honey and wine.” In the Kalevala, Osmotar’s beer—a dud—is saved by a bee.

Today the lines are blurring again, even as the TTB struggles to keep up with style names like wheatwine. We had an excellent braggot from Atlantic Brewing Company at their roadside barbecue shack on MDI—sweet, but in a rich, barrel-aged sort of way. Dogfish Head’s Noble Rot is a mix of beer and wine; soon they’ll release a blend of beer and cider. Avery makes some grape-grain hybrids too, though barrel herder Andy Parker doesn’t like the term. The Sumerians called it kaš-geštin, a combination of their pictograms for beer and wine. I don’t know how to pronounce it either.

Beer cocktails are trending and beer-beer blends are catching on. But Pils in your Pinot? Samuel Pepys, who’d try anything, was unconvinced.

…and to Mr. Hollyard, and took some pills of him and a note under his hand to drink wine with my beere…

[later]

They gone, I to my office, and there my head being a little troubled with the little wine I drank, though mixed with beer, but it may be a little more than I used to do, and yet I cannot say so…

The Blend Is Near

Nothing is sacred, not even beer. Prove it: order a pint of the latest over-hopped, over-hyped IPA, down half, and top it off with a simple pale. See? It gets better.

I wrote about mixing beer in this month’s GQ, but it’s been going on for ages. In eighteenth-century England, savvy drinkers ordered half-and-halfs or three threads: old, stale beer livened up with some fresh from the brewery. (Porter started out as one of these mixes.) Flemish brewers carbonate their gueuze the same way, adding a bit of new beer to a flat batch of sour lambic to wake up the old yeast. Beer aged in barrels is almost always blended because each cask ferments a little differently. When a smoked beer by Boulder’s Avery Brewing Company lost its edge after sitting too long in a rum barrel, they made an extra-smoky batch to mix it with. Germans—lest you think them Reinheitsgebot-thumping purists—mix their beers with Coke and banana nectar.

Beer cocktails are getting common, but beer blends are still underground. “We hide our blends on the other side of the menu,” Avery’s taproom manager Phil Vaughn says. “Not recommended, but not discouraged,” according to North Coast’s vice president Doug Moody. “Don’t tell the brewers,” warns an anonymous source at Cleveland’s Great Lakes. Fine, we get it: Craft beer is perfect straight up, but a little alchemy can go a long way.

Some blends to try:

Belgian Strong Golden + Pilsner
Wheat + Scotch Ale (or just Scotch)
IPA + English Pale Ale
Russian Stout + Pale Ale
Saison + Mescal
IPA + Rye Whiskey
Wheat + Lemonade
Brown Ale + Port
IPA + Espresso (We learned about this at Founders in Grand Rapids, where our Midwestern favorite MadCap Coffee made just such a blend.)

Stoaked

When we drove from Brooklyn to California, we took the essentials: brew kettle, fermenters, grains, beer books, a raincoat. Everything else we left in a storage unit. We were just in New York for a week of book promotion, and we visited our unit, flung open the door, and felt that strange relief you feel when absolutely nothing has changed. More specifically: when your barrel of beer hasn’t exploded over all your belongings.

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…But Is It Green?

In honor of St. Patrick, some Guinness rumors we uncovered in our research:

It’s brewed with beef bouillon. It used to be brewed with rats (these have been replaced by beef bouillon). It’s mixed with old, stale beer. Guinness brewers were some of the first to practice sparging, or rinsing their grains to extract more fermentable sugars. Guinness brewers used to power parts of the brewery with a steam engine that ran on old beer. Guinness tastes better in Ireland. (This last rumor was “confirmed” by “researchers” in the Journal of Food Science this month.)

Break free of your shamrocked chains! Today, drink American: rat-free, and obviously more delicious here.

See my picks of the best American dry(ish) stouts in the Wall Street Journal: North Coast Old No. 38, Avery Out of Bounds, Anderson Valley Barney Flats.