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Beer Review: Flying Dog Dead Rise Old Bay Summer Ale

May 21, 2014 · by Oliver Gray

Wooden mallets strike claws, sending fissures through crabby chitin, exposing the sweet, seasoned flesh beneath. Soft hands meet sharp shells, poking, probing, splitting, snapping; a modest labor for a morsel of meat. Twelve spices form a homogeneous cocktail with light lager and briny boil, resulting in a liquid unique to the summers of the Chesapeake watershed. The crustacean covered newspapers lining the tables tell a new story now, a story that to the outsider sounds like barbaric ritual, but to the native sounds like hallowed tradition.

Despite my international birth, I’m a Marylander. All of my education – from Jones Lane to Johns Hopkins – unfolded in the Old Line state, and I’ve called the marshy lands north of the Potomac home for nearly 25 years. There are those in other parts of the country who don’t understand Maryland’s insistence on maintaining a unique identity; those who find such cultural fervor from a small state cute, or quaint, or some combination there of. But the people of Ocean City, Baltimore, Annapolis, and Salisbury don’t just mindlessly crab and boil or Raven and Oriole, they hold high their state standard, proud that 9th smallest state boasts one of the biggest personalities.

A veteran of the picking art shows a tourist where and how to lift the plate to get at the blue gold in the body, like the master teaching the neophyte who reached the peak all the simple secrets of life. A little girl takes her time, building a mini-mountain of crab to eat all at once, while her older brother yanks white chunks out of cartilage lined crevices with the only tool he needs: his teeth. Corn on the cob sits cooked but idle, waiting for the pile of dusted red delight to give up the spotlight.

Maryland suffers from poorly built sandwich syndrome; its thin landmass pressed between the top bun of Pittsburgh, Gettysburg, Lancaster, and Philadelphia, and the bottom bun of DC, Shenandoah, Richmond, and Norfolk. New York City is only a 4 hour drive from our naval-steeped capital, and a brief jaunt south would have you in North Carolina before the sun fully lowered itself into a western bed. There’s a lot of artisanal bread for Maryland’s meat to contend with, and it knows it needs to taste damn good to get any attention when someone takes a bite of the East Coast.

The notes that haunt the humid air are distant but familiar – bluegrass, country, possibly Jimmy Buffet. The giant stock pot – already full of potatoes and garlic and onions – sits on open flame, slowly rising to boil as a bushel awaits fate. On the shore, seagulls have taken note of the feast, and caw their dinner bells to nearby friends, hoping to snag some scraps after the lungs, mustard, and empty shells have been tossed. As the sun begins to set, the hiss of bottle cap sighs fade into the backdrop of ten thousand cicadas.

You might expect a beer brewed with Maryland’s favorite crab seasoning to be nothing more than a well-marketed gimmick. But Flying Dog, after moving to Frederick after a few years in Denver, is one of the oldest functional breweries in the state. Like Heavy Seas and their nautical flair, Flying Dog understands what it means to be in this state, but also what it means to live in Maryland. What it means to wear purple during football season. What it’s like to contend with a parade of transient traffic as I-95 shuttles people to states external. What it’s like to pay a tax on rain.

Deposits of seasoning get stuck under your fingernails. Little cuts from shards and spikes sting when hands meet soap. The entire process means a lot of work and a lot of clean up, but the rewards, tangible and tantalizing, make the effort seem minor. Those who partake in the rituals of the bay go to bed satisfied, dreaming of food and friends and family and future.

The beer isn’t perfect; the smell hits you like a fishy breeze off of a populated wharf, and the Old Bay spikes a flag into your tongue, marking its savory territory despite the summer ale’s crisp attempt to quickly wash it down. But Maryland isn’t perfect either. It’s a hodgepodge of DC politicians and career fisherman, a swampy land swarmed with mosquitoes and mariners. Its weather can be extreme and unpredictable and relatively slow speed limits lead to some of the worst traffic in the country. But it’s a state that knows who it is, where it stands, and what it likes, by virtue of geographic necessity.

Flying dog tried to brew and bottle Maryland itself. Did it work? That ship’s still at sea. Either way, it’s a flattering homage, and I’m willing to bet a lot of Old Bay junkies just found the perfect partner for a summer romance.

"Have you ever watched a crab on the shore crawling backward in search of the Atlantic Ocean, and missing? That's the way the mind of man operates." - H. L. Mencken

“Have you ever watched a crab on the shore crawling backward in search of the Atlantic Ocean, and missing? That’s the way the mind of man operates.” – H. L. Mencken

The Six-Pack Project: Maryland

June 26, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

6pack logo

Maryland. The seventh state. That tommy gun shaped piece of land stuck between Virginia and Pennsylvania and Delaware. The state that gives the Chesapeake Bay a big, perpetual hug. The land of a million blue crabs and powdery mountains of Old Bay. Neither North nor South. Rural, urban, disturbingly suburban. My home.

Bryan over at This Is Why I’m Drunk tasked me with creating a collection of Maryland beer to be part of his Six-Pack Project. Most who intimately know Maryland summers think of Corona for their crab or Natty Boh for their, um, masochistic self-loathing rituals, but I have taken it upon myself to show you, visitors of our City by the Ocean, lore-seekers to our myriad Civil War ruins, what beer you should drink when you’re adventuring around the Old Line State.

I also had to beer-spar with Doug at Baltimore Bistros and Beer, in a Maryland, no-holds-barred, beer choosing free-for-all. I’m pretty sure he won, but I did OK. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t understand sports, especially not football. Check out his post for a full(er) description of the Fantasy-Beer draft process.

The other bloggers (who you should definitely go check out, because they are awesome) in this round are:

Lacey @ Once Upon a Stein – New York
Tom @ Queen City Drinks – Ohio
Douglas @ Baltimore Bistros and Beer – Maryland
Grant @ Hop Brained – Illinois
Tom and Carla @ Hoperatives – Kentucky
Max @ The Beginners Brew – California

1. Flying Dog Old Scratch Amber – Frederick, MD

oldscatchlagerDo you like Yeungling? Do you wish it was something more? Something bold and flavorful and confident in its grain bill? Have no fear, Flying Dog Brewing of Frederick, Maryland has you covered. Old Scratch Amber is everything Yuengs is – amber, light, easy to drink – while also being so many things it’s not – deliciously malty, slightly citrusy in its hoppage, mellow with no sour aftertaste.

Old Scratch isn’t going to send your socks flying from your feet with its taste or hops, but at 5.5% ABV, this is a smooth, refreshing lager, that you should definitely have around for those wild, humid Eastern Shore nights. It’s a perfect BBQ or lounge-on-your-neighbor’s-porch-on-a-perfect-summer-evening beer.

This amber has packed all its crap into boxes and moved full time into my fridge. You can find it pretty much anywhere in MD that carries Flying Dog. Definitely a go-to beer for me. Shit, I’m drinking one while I type this!

2. DuClaw Bare Ass Blonde – Bel Air, MD

bareassblonde

No list of Maryland beer would be worth anything without a DuClaw bubbler gracing its bulleted numbers. DuClaw, of Bel Air, just northeast of Baltimore, has a pretty impressive line up that includes some pretty unorthodox beers. A spiced Belgian. A toffee nut brown. The infamous Peanut Butter porter. And then there is this little gem, hiding behind a cheeky name and an understated appearance.

Duclaw is not shy with the malt. Bare Ass blonde is bare in color only; it carries an incredibly decadent malt flavor that comes through in the nose and taste of the beer. Seriously, so grainy. It’s like walking, mouth open, through a field of barley during harvest as a thresher hacks it all up.

This pale blonde ale is like Old Scratch in that it won’t come at you with any aggressive hopping; its Fuggle and Goldings are barely there. But it’s amazingly refreshing for a beer that rocks so much cereal flavor, making it a great beach brew. At 5% ABV you can drink a few and not be worried about being caught with your pants down.

3. Evolution #3 IPA – Salisbury, MD

"Natural selection, as it has operated in human history, favors not only the clever but the murderous." -Barbara Ehrenreich

I went to Salisbury University for my undergrad (SU English majors, holla!), but graduated well before Evolution set up shop a few miles from campus. It’s probably a good thing. A craft brewery basically in my back yard would not have been good for my GPA.

Would have been great for my IPA, though. I first bought Lot #3 on a whim; the green label caught my eye and I like things that are green. Imagine my surprise when I was hit with rapturous wafts of Columbus, Centenial, Cascade, Chinook, Amarillo that are so well balanced in the heart of this golden IPA.

This brew is so well done, I’m loathe to describe it, as I’m worried I won’t do it justice. The smell is one that will haunt you in the best way, like the perfume of your date hanging in the air long after she’s gone home. The luxurious head sticks around even after a calm pour, adding a smooth, opulent texture that I can only compare to a freshly buttered croissant. In Paris. While sitting across from a very attractive French person. Who is saying very sexy sounding things you don’t understand.

It’s very good and you should drink it.

4. Heavy Seas Small Craft Warning Uber Pils – Baltimore, MD

heavyseasEveryone – aside from those punk-ass ninjas – loves pirates. Everyone. They’re jolly and rambunctious and constantly living life to the fullest, even if it means they getting shot by a cannon or eaten by a massive, ornery octopus.

It’s appropriate that Heavy Seas (brewed by Clipper City brewing) is from Baltimore, a city sunken in nautical lore. All of their beers are a play off some sort of pirate theme (like Peg Leg Imperial Stout and Loose Cannon IPA), playful cartoon label art included.

But pirates take their booze seriously. It wards off scurvy and instills confidence where perhaps discretion is a better idea. They go all out. Small Craft Uber Pils is the embodiment of that cannon-balls to the wall mentality. Unlike its pale-golden Czech and German brethren, all content with sort of tasting the same except for a few minor tweaks, Small Craft unfurls its flavors like three sheets in the wind of a coming hurricane. It’s bold and hoppy, but appropriate for the style, reminding me a lot of Victory Prima Pils and Sam Adams Noble pils, just decidedly more…piratical.

Remember, it’s not the size of the pilser in in the glass, it’s the motion of the flavor ocean.

5. Pub Dog Hoppy Dog Ale – Columbia, MD

hoppy dog

There is some magical voodoo surrounding pizza and beer. When the spell of salt hits the potion of pale ale, fireballs fly across the room at random and things turn into frogs. That’s science. You can’t argue against science.

Pub Dog is part brewery, part pizzeria. As a result, we can agree that these people know a lot about human psychology, and are fully invested in the business of making people happy. They not only brew and serve their own beer (with plenty of options, to boot!) but they bake and serve hot cheese on top of tomato sauce on top of bread, with additional toppings available as requested. Brilliancy.

Hoppy dog, is as it says, hoppy. It’s bitter and angry about life, vexed that at times it has to be a mere sidekick to a pizza-pie. Don’t be mean to the Hoppy Dog though, he just wants to be a happy dog. He is aggressively full of hop flavor, appropriate for those with heads built and aimed towards enjoying hops. This beer can be hard to find outside of the Federal Hill and Columbia brew pubs, but do you really need another excuse to eat a good pizza and drink good beer?

6. Baying Hound Lord Wimsey Mild Ale – Rockville, MD

lordwimsey

I had to include a rookie Maryland brewery. These guys seem to get a bad rap on BeerAdvocate and Ratebeer, but I have yet to be turned off by one of their beers. Sure, they’re not perfect when compared to some of the masters out there, but they are doing some interesting stuff (like not force carbonating and bottle conditioning), are brewing out of Rockville (a place in dire need of a brewery), and have only been brewing since 2010. We all have to start somewhere, right?

I first had Wimsey Mild Ale at an event for the Potomac Riverkeeper, and was pleased at the complexity of the flavors for a pretty standard pale ale. It’s named after the adorable brewery mascot, Wimsey the Bloodhound, who was named after the detective in Dorothy L. Sayer’s mystery lit. I’m a sucker for some anachronistic literature-to-beer allusions.

It tastes like your best friend’s really good homebrew. You know he’s getting good, and you always want to try what he’s brewing next. It’s a caramel colored ale, a little rough round the edges, but strong and exploding with flavor. Despite four types of hops (Nugget, Columbus, Willamette, and Cascade) it’s not too in your face with the alpha acid, and worth a try, if you find yourself stranded and needing refreshment in Montgomery County.

How to use Old Bay Seasoning

June 22, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

Old Bay seasoning, like Old Spice deodorant, is no joke. It’s so awesome, it doesn’t even need a ridiculous ad campaign.

If you’re from anywhere near the Chesapeake bay, you know this to be true. Old Bay is the standard-bearer of Maryland summers; his blue, red, and yellow heraldry fluttering in the breeze coming off of the water. Where there is Old Bay, there are crabs, and there is beer.

But Old Bay need not be saved, hoarded, coveted, only to be used on crabs. Even the labeling says, “For Seafood, Poultry, Salads, and Meats.” I have never had an Old Bay salad, but it sounds like the kind of thing a bad ass Corinthian warrior would eat. I suggest using Old Bay on anything and everything, as it can do no harm, only good.

According to the best and most trustworthy research tool ever known to humankind, Wikipedia, the ingredients of Old Bay are as follows:

  • mustard
  • paprika
  • celery seed
  • bay leaf
  • black pepper
  • red pepper
  • cinnamon
  • cloves
  • allspice
  • nutmeg
  • cardamom
  • salt
  • mace
  • ginger

I think they left a few out. Namely:

  • Very finely ground crack-cocaine
  • 99.9% pure distilled youthful exuberance (harvested from only the most carefree of American teenagers)
  • Beer flavor enhancer #19
  • Refined Chesepian spirit dust (salvaged from Skicoak, near Norfolk)
  • High fructose black bean syrup

How to use Old Bay:

Things you’ll need:
-Old Bay
-Food you are going to cook
-Beer (may I suggest Blue Moon Agave Blonde Ale?)

Step 1: Put copious amounts of Old Bay on everything

And you’re done! You and your reborn taste buds can thank me later.

The picture is a little blurry because I got some Old Bay on the lens.

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