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Review: Harpoon Munich Type Dark

April 20, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

So, I like beer.

If this isn’t obvious at this point, I can’t help ya.

But therein lies my problem. I like beer. Really like it. All of it.

My friend Justin said that I wasn’t so much a beer critic as a beer appraiser.  I’m the “Antiques Road Show” of beer reviewers. Everything has its value, even that weird old afghan you found in your great aunt’s attic.

I have yet to give a beer less than 7 out of 10. I so rarely have a beer that is below a “C” for me, just because I fundamentally love beer so much. I can always find some kind of merit in a beer, even if it is outside my normal comfort zone, or more importantly, flavor zone.

I really try to find problems. Too tart, too watery, too generic. But my complaints are always overshadowed by my appreciation of the positives. I can’t help but think of the master brewer, testing the relative gravity, adjusting it perfectly to his detailed specifications.

Who am I, the lowly drinker, the anonymous end-user, to criticize his art?

I’ve been there. I’ve cracked the barley. I’ve bagged the hops. I’ve boiled the mash and stirred the malts. I’ve handled the ~50 pounds of steaming pre-beer, trying to bring it down to the correct temperature for yeast.

It’s hard work. It’s precise work. It takes part of the brewer to create a great beer, part of his energy and soul.

To give a beer a bad review is to disrespect that soul.

So I always try to find something redeeming. Even if it’s just the label art or the color. Every beer has its place in our world, its place on our palette.

Dark beers that lack hops are not my favorite. Part of the reason I drink beer is for refreshment, and dark malts tend to be antithetical to that notion. I do enjoy a good stout or porter during the winter, but I don’t often buy dark beer just for the sake of it.

Harpoon Munich Dark is toasted and chocolaty. It sits heavy in your stomach; this is a beer to drink while you read or unwind, not while you party. Any hops are sedated by the thickness of dark, traditional malts, making this an incredibly flavorful brew that is more like milk than beer.

I don’t drink them often, but if I were going to, I’d pick this beer again. It’s well done, even if it isn’t overly Oliverian. I think I’ll try to mix this with Harpoon IPA, to make a weird, hybrid Black and Tan.

7.5 out of 10.

Darker than the darkest dark, times infinity.

That concludes this series. Subscribe to check out the next round (which I haven’t chosen yet)!

Review: Harpoon Belgian Pale Ale

April 18, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

In 2006, I crossed the ocean blue to watch France play South Korea in Liepzig, Germany. Play each other in a match of football, that is. Real football, where feet kick balls, none of this American hand+egg nonsense. During that big event that happens sometimes. It’s called the World Cup, I think.

My little adventure had me back on European tides for the first time in a long time. My family is British  (my little, squishy baby self appeared unto this world in Manchester, England some 26 years ago) and I’ve spent a decent amount of time gallivanting in the countrysides of those neighboring members of the EU.

My earlier trips back to the motherland were during that tragic age where it wasn’t socially, mentally, or physically appropriate for me to be drinking beer. Thank the maker those days are behind me. I missed out on countless pints of traditional British Ale, slowly pulled Guinness in the pubs of Ireland, and myriad tastes of masterfully made German brews.

But in 2006, I was 21. The magical age when your body magically becomes able to process the magic inside of beer that makes it just so…magical. I was also able to legally buy it and not get thrown out of bars, which was a definite plus.

I drank all sorts of beer, most of which had names I couldn’t pronounce. Most of it was good. Some of it was very bad. But I distinctly remember that it was all of the highest quality, served at the perfect temperature, served in proper, made-of-glass glasses. It was like being in my own personal heaven for a week.

I remember thinking that some of the beer tasted funny. Not bad, not off, just different. The ales were a little more pale, somehow. Fewer hops, more yeast.

Harpoon Belgian Pale Ale is brewed in this tradition. It tastes as though it were brewed with aged hops, offering a much more understated hop flavor, which allows the traditional Belgian yeast to permeate the rest of the beer. The hop flavor is not completely absent; it offers just enough flowery citrus to truly put this in the pale ale category.

It maintains a solid, craggy head for a good few minutes after de-bottling. At 5.8% ABV, it’s a tad on the strong side, giving a bit of alcohol aftertaste. But hey, it’s beer; that’s to be expected.

As I finished my glass, my memory sparked. This is the kind of beer that makes you want to go back to Europe. Sit on a little table outside of a pub, watching the soccer hooligans flood the streets and set fire to anything flammable. It’s orange body reflects all of the adventures you had in the days of your misspent, drunken youth.

It washes back a lot of fond memories.

8 out of 10.

Bubbles from Brussels.

Next up: Brooklyn Brown Ale!

Review: Harpoon IPA

April 13, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

I had a hard time deciding how to review what is arguably my favorite beer. I decided to merge it with what is arguably my favorite literary work.

Seems appropriate.

The IPAven

Once upon a midday cheery, while I pondered drunk and beery,
Over many a quaint and curious glass that I’d forgotten to pour,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a  tapping,
As of someone gentle rapping, rapping on the outside door,
Tis some visitor, I muttered, tis one of my friends rapping at the home’s front door,
Only this, and nothing more.

Ah distinctly I remember, it was on the brightest Easter,
And each separate dying beer can wrought its shell upon my floor,
Eagerly I fought the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow,
From my brews surcease of  sorrow – sorrow for the lonely pour,
For this rare and radiant pale ale that the angels forgot to pour,
Nameless here, for ever more.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple label,
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic flavors that I’d never tasted before;
So that now, to still the beating of my drunken mind, I stood repeating,
Tis some housemate entreating entrance at the home’s front door,
Some drunk friend  entreating entrance at the home’s front door,
This it is, and nothing more.

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
Bro, said I, or buddy, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, drunken when you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at the home’s front door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you – here I opened wide the door,
Deep Creek there, and nothing more.

Far across that lake peering, long I stood there, wondering, leering,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no sober man ever dared to dream before,
But the silence was unbroken, and the waters gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “please pour”,
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, “please pour!”
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my gas within me burping,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
Surely, said I, surely that is something in my brain come loose;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,
Let my stomach be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
Tis DTs and nothing more!

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a hizz and bubble,
In there dripped a stately pale ale of the saintly liquor store.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, into pint glass he did pour,
Settle on the oaken table, in this pint glass himself he poured –
Settled, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this yellowy beer beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the bitter and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
Though they head be short and sparing, thou, I said, art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and tasty haven from the darkened near lake shore,
Tell me what thy lordly name is on Boston’s Plutonian shore!
Quoth the pale ale, “Never pour.”

Much I marveled this ungainly brew to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore,
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being,
Ever yet was cursed with seeing no beers in his fridge with which to pour,
Brew or yeast outside of glassware, somehow never being poured,
With such a name as, “Never pour.”

But the pale ale sitting lonely on the placid oak, spoke only,
Those two words, as if his soul with hops did store,
Nothing further then he uttered – not a bubble then he sputtered,
Till I scarcely more than muttered, “Other friends have drank before,”
On the morrow he will leave me, empty glass reflecting hopes as before,
Then the beer said, “Never pour.”

Startled at my buzz so broken by reply so aptly spoken,
Doubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy brewmaster whom merciful disaster,
Swallowed fast and swallowed faster till his kegs one burden bore,
Till the dirges of his hope that metal keg bore,
Of, “Never-never pour.”

But the pale ale still beguiling my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned recliner in the front of beer and table and door,
The, upon the pleather sinking, I betook myself to linking,
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous beer of corner store,
What this hopped, flavored, tasty, and masterful beer of the corner store,
Meant in croaking, “Never pour.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no sober syllable expressing,
To the brew who’s fiery eyes now burned into my brain’s dull core,
This and more I sat divining, with my head from suds reclining,
On the cushion’s pleasing pleather lining that the IKEA lamp gloated o’er,
But whose pleasing pleather lining that the IKEA lamp gloated o’er,
She shall sip, ah, but never pour!

Then me though the liquid grew denser, flavored from unseen censur,
Dipped by Seraphim whose foot-falls trickled on the heady floor,
Wretch! I cried, they God hath lent thee – by these bottles he has sent thee,
Respite – respite and hydration from they memories of the beer I forgot to pour,
Quaff, oh quaff this kind Gatorade, and forget this misplaced pour,
Quoth the pale ale, “Never pour.”

Prophet! Said I, thing of evil!  – prophet still if beer or devil!
Whether ferment sent or whether fermentation toss thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this lake shore land enchanted,
On this home by horror haunted, tell me truly, I implore!
Is there – is there beer in Gilead? Tell me, tell me! I implore.
Quoth the pale ale, “Never pour.”

Prophet! Said I, thing of evil!  – prophet still if beer or devil!
By that lake that swells beside us, by that God we both adore,
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distance Boston,
It shall clasp a sainted ale of who I never got to pour –
Clasp a rare and flavorful ale, who they never let me pour?
Quoth the pale ale, “Never pour.”

Be those words our sign of parting, beer or fiend! I shrieked upstarting –
Get thee back into the kettle, back to that fated liquor store,
Leave no bottle cap as token of that lie thy soul hath spoken,
Leave my drunkeness unbroken, quit the table on my floor,
Take thy hops from off my tongue, a take thy form from off my floor,
Quoth the pale ale, “Never pour.”

And the pale ale, never fizzing, still is sitting, still is sitting,
On the oaken oakheart table sitting on my living room floor,
And his suds have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the IKEA lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor,
And my drunken form lies in that shadow that is floating on the floor,
The beer is never opened, into my glass is never poured!

(Original – The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. Beer cover version by Oliver Gray)

He claimed never would I drink his flesh, but into my glass his soul did pour.

Next up: Brooklyn Pennant Ale ’55!

Review: Harpoon White UFO

April 11, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

As I stood staring out at the blue of Deep Creek Lake, cold wind ripping at my exposed flesh, water lapping aggressively against the shore, I heard the voice of the depths. It whispered to me its secrets; long untold tales of souls lost to its icy waves, ancient mysteries that lay in the murk and darkness of the lake bed. The voice echoed infinitely in my ears, like each individual drop was telling me the story of its journey to the clouds and suicidal plunge back to the Earth. For that brief moment I knew nature, and it knew me. I was at peace, and knew zen.

Either that, or I had been drinking. Heavily.

I was in fact standing on the lake shore; I nearly fell in twenty different times. The wind did indeed rip at my exposed flesh; I had forgotten my coat and decided wearing two hoodies was just as good. And I really did think I heard the voice of the lake,  but in retrospect, it could have been the fizzy-popping of the Harpoon White Unfiltered Offering (UFO) in my hand.

I love Harpoon Brewery. There is no other way to describe my attraction and relationship to their beers. They are cute a giggly, charming and warm. I’m pretty sure it is illegal to date a beer (or brewery) otherwise, I may have tried by now.

While Harpoon IPA (heart) is the flagship of this Boston-based brewing company, their UFO line (available in White, Raspberry, Pale Ale, and Hefeweizen) is something special. While I usually avoid wheat beers in an attempt to avoid yeast-related illness (my uvula tends to get all ornery when exposed to too much yeast) these are the exception. I tried the Raspberry variety first and I was hooked.

The idea of adding fruit to beer is arguably the single greatest anthropological advance in human history.

UFO White is a Belgian White style, unfiltered, sour, and thirst quenching. Other popular Belgian whites (namely Blue Moon) rely heavily on orange alone to add a citrus burst to their beer, but UFO White doesn’t. It adds lemon, creating and incredibly potent cirtusy beer that will probably meet or exceed your vitamin C intake for the day.

It pours with almost no lasting head, but leaves a pretty lacing of white across the top of orange-yellow body. It’s a particularly noisy beer; fizzing aggressively with little bubbles jumping wildly, trying to escape the glass.

This is a great conversation beer, as you can drink it as casually as a glass of orange juice. If you drink enough of it, you could probably even talk to things that can’t normally talk. Like lakes.

8.75 out of 10.

This picture makes it look warm outside. It was not warm outside.

Next up: Brooklyn East India Pale Ale!

Bachelor (Party) Beer

April 9, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

This weekend, my best friends drugged me, threw me in the trunk of a car, and drove me nearly 4 hours from home to a mansion on the breezy shores of Deep Creek Lake. I woke up with a fishing rod in my hands and a fully stocked beer fridge. I thank them again for a very awesome weekend that outpaced any previous ideas I had about how much fun my bachelor party would be.

In the midst of the drunkenness and debauchery, I did my best to retain some level of professionalism. I was drinking good beer, it deserved attention, words, and proper glassware. Armed only with my DSLR and a Duvel glass, I set out to chronicle my bachelor party through the only means I know: words.

I grabbed 2 more samplers before we set out. One is an old staple, the other was a stab in the dark. I must have really good luck, because once again, I managed to have 8 fabulous beers at my disposal.

Sampler #1: Harpoon Brewery 5:30 Club Mix Pack

Harpoon IPA holds a special place in my heart. During the first business trip of my budding career, I had Harpoon on tap in downtown Boston, MA. I thought my taste buds were going to explode into kittens and magic jelly beans. In my calm, subjective opinion, I’m pretty sure Harpoon IPA is the best commercial IPA in the country. It is smooth, flavorful, light without being bland, and possibly brewed with unicorn tears.

I’m a tad biased.

The four beers in this pack were:

1. Harpoon IPA (need I say more?)
2. Harpoon Belgian Pale Ale (a strong, wheaty PA)
3. Harpoon White UFO (which stands for Unfiltered Offering, this is one of three varieties of UFO that I’ve had)
4. Harpoon  Dark Munich Style Lager (dark brown, malty, good)

Sampler #2: Brooklyn Brewery Party Mix

This was a random purchase as I was loading up the car for the trip. I wanted something I’d never had before, but didn’t want to get too adventurous in case my brethren weren’t as excited about beer with enough hops to put you in the hospital. My beer-telepathy was spot on. This Brooklyn, NY beer is very well done and offers a nice spin on a lot of traditional brews. The East India Pale Ale is particularly awesome and I highly recommend it.

The four beers in this sampler were:

1. Brooklyn Lager (a hearty, malty take on the boring old lager)
2. Brooklyn Brown Ale (a traditional, safe, but satisfying approach to brown ale)
3. Brooklyn East India Pale Ale (Phenomenal. Best beer in the pack. It’s not Harpoon IPA, but definitely took my by [good] surprise.)
4. Brooklyn Pennant Ale ’55 (a New England style  ale in the fashion of Sam Adams Boston Lager, but with a sharper front end taste)

Special thank you to John for holding the cases so elegantly.

First up: Brooklyn Lager!

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