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Five Years, Five Beers

October 24, 2014 · by Oliver Gray

Today, in all its falling leafy glory, marks the fifth anniversary of this blog. It’s hard to believe that 1825 days have waxed and waned since I first plugged “Literature and Libation” into WordPress, thinking I was very clever for such thematically appropriate alliteration.

Nostalgia is equal parts funny and sad. I remember my first stabs at beer writing; terrible reviews of Bud Light Platinum and Newcastle Founders Ale written mainly at the urging of my sister. I’m not sure if she actually believed in my ability or just wanted something to break the boredom of her workday, but I have to indirectly thank her for setting me down this wet and wild hopped road.

My timing in starting the blog coincided (perhaps serendipitously) with a change in my life, a time when I started to realize I was no longer that “college kid,” that my view and opinions were changing, moving, realigning with my more adult understanding of the world. It also just so happened to line up – like the planets slipping silently into perfect linear arrangement – with the period I started drinking better beer.

I’ve tried many, many beers in these five years; probably more than I had in the five previous to these, combined. At the behest of my friendly neighborhood brewing wizards this blog forced me out of the quiet simplicity of my Shire, taking me on adventures I’d never expected, showing me a world full of hoppy wonder and malty marvel. But in all those beers I sampled and sipped, I always returned to a some staples, stalwarts, those faithful, consistent few. These beers are more than my comfort falls backs, more than the fermented pajamas I slip into after a long and arduous day, they were my training wheels, my guides, my glass-clad sherpas up the mountains of good beer.

So on this anniversary, I salute them. And their brewers. And all the staff that helped bring them to me, and me to this world I love so much.

1. Dogfish Head 60 Minutes IPA20141024_115539

First came Sam’s flagship, the first “craft” beer I can remember my parents ever having in stock. My first reactions to IPA flirted dangerously close to “bitter beer face” but as my taste buds shed their nascent skin, I grew to appreciate how much was going on in a bottle of 60, and how easily accessible (if a tad pricey) such a different beer had become. I always come back to 60 minute as a reference point, some grounding, a reminder of where my taste for hops came form, and where beer was five, six, or seven years ago. When I first started this blog, I had no idea why it was even called 60 minute, assuming it was named such because it would take someone an hour just to finish one bottle.

20141024_1156352. Flying Dog Doggie Style (now Pale Ale)

A part of my beer-drinking self always latched itself to no-frills pale ales, either out of irrational loyalty to what my father taught me to love, or out of safety, comfort, the beauty of repeatable simplicity. Whatever fueled it, it manifested in Flying Dogs award winning pale; there’s nothing particularly wild about it, but there it is, balanced, refreshing, happy to be the middle child between weird exotic yeasts and tired pale lagers. From this safe base of pale malt I felt confident to branch out into pretty much any style: I always had a big soft pint of pale to fall back into if things got a little too freaky and yeasty.

3. Heavy Seas Loose Cannon20141024_115529

The pirate in me gives me orders, his drunken swaggering the impetus for a lot of my rambling of the same. It’s no surprise I took to Heavy Seas; they’re local, they’re good, they’re unabashedly pirate themed. While I enjoy quite a few of their beers, Loose Cannon sidled up to me early, mug of grog in hand, sly whispers of, “you like 60 minute? Well you’ll love me.”

And I did. And do. And probably always will. It’s my quintessential Maryland beer, and that’s saying a lot (sorry Natty Boh).

4. Sam Adams Boston Lager20141024_121408

A cliche? Perhaps. A mistake? Never. All recent commercials aside, Sam Adams Boston Lager is a pretty fantastic gateway beer. It has everything you could want without being offensive about it. There’s also something to respect about the market positioning Sam Adams set the rest of the industry up for, and sometimes I buy their beer simply out of beer guy respect. Are there better options? Sometimes. But you’ll almost never have a friend turn down a Boston Lager, even if their normal drinking typically falls much much further in BMC territory.

5. Yuengling Lager20141024_122055

I just can’t quit the old girl from Pottsville. I’ve tried. Oh, how I’ve tried. In my early years of being a mindless craft crusaders, I swore off “junk” beer like Yuengling, feigning some kind of pretentious elitism that somehow, despite everything Yuengling had done for me, made me better than the beer. Well I’m not. I’m not better than any beer. The pedigree behind even the lowest rated and much maligned beers still outweighs mine a thousand fold. I’m especially not better than the good ole girl from Pottsville.

So to celebrate my perfuntory triumph of managing not to burn out too badly or quit in a huff of public, Twitter glory, I’m not going to reach into the back of the fridge for some rare beer. I’m not going to chuck harpoons looking for whales. I’m definitely not going to forget where I came from, how I got here, and which beers were integral to keeping me on track.

Here’s to the standbys, the go-tos, to old friends. But more importantly, here’s to all you readers and all your support. If I had the time and money to buy you all a beer, I most certainly would.

Here’s to beer. Here’s to writing. Here’s to five more years.

The Session #91 – Forgotten Friday: My First Belgian

September 5, 2014 · by Oliver Gray

(I missed the last few Sessions due to travel and exhaustion and illness, but I’m back! This month’s topic is “My First Belgian” hosted by Breandán and Elisa over at Belgian Smaak.)

Occasionally, the many moving parts of my writing life line up in a perfect row, like some rare celestial event where arcane energies mingle and a portal to other worlds opens very briefly. As the Session falls on a day I had other writing plans, I can feel the gears of my mind click and sync, suddenly whirring together as one as the clutch reengages. I typically write “Forgotten Friday” posts about places and items that have been lost in plain sight, but today, I’m using the literal definition of my favorite nostalgic infinitive: “to forget.”

This month’s topic asks me to recall the first Belgian beer I ever managed to sneak down my gullet. The problem is, no matter how far I stretch my brain, how many stories I pull from the depths of my hippocampus, how many bottles and labels I recall on the selves of the dozens of fridges of my life, I cannot remember my first Belgian beer. I can remember the first beer; it was a Boddingtons Pub Ale, at the dinner table with my parents, around 7th grade. Although, photo evidence says I probably drank a bit earlier than that (thanks, Dad), that’s my first fermented memory, the first time I remember drinking beer.

I also remember thinking it tasted like bitter instant oatmeal that someone had added way too much water to, followed by a quick internal question, “why would anyone want to drink this stuff?”

Don't judge, it was the 80s in England. Just look at that red table.

Don’t judge, it was the 80s in England. Just look at that red table and white leather couch.

If I had to guess, my first was probably one of the big boy Belgian beers: Duvel, Hoegaarden, maybe even a stray bottle of Delirium Tremens left to age in the back of our family fridge after a party. It’s possible, in all its wasted decadence, that my first Belgian was Trappist; my mom would often keep a bottle of Chimay Red on hand during the holiday season, for reasons I don’t quite understand, because neither she nor my dad drank it. But I cant’ say for sure. It’s a black void in my mental vault, one of those things I never built a place for in my memory palace, that will probably be forever lost in the deep dark ocean of my memories.

I’ll confess; I probably don’t remember because I’ve never taken to Belgian beer. I’ve homebrewed it, tried countless styles and brands, forced my tongue into a steel-cage death match with funky fermentation, hoping to one day emerge bloody but victorious, the Champion of Brussels. While I’ve gotten in a few good punches, I’m still likely to brace myself before taking a sip of saison, clench my jaw when quaffing a quad. I appreciate the artistry and heritage of many Belgian breweries, but something in the bready unmistakable yeast character of Belgian beer is antithetical to what my taste buds want.

While that may seem tragic (and trust me, for years I was convinced there was a fundamental flaw in my mouth), it has allowed me to finally accept a reality a lot of modern beer enthusiasts forget, try to dance around to avoid appearing unlearned or inexperienced: it’s OK to not like a certain style of beer. It’s OK to not like super hoppy, high ABV imperial IPAs. It’s OK if you find the salty sour of a gose a bit too much for your particular preferences. It’s OK to say, “I have tried this, and it is not for me.”

The only thing you’re obligated to do is appreciate that someone else, somewhere, probably does like that style. Maybe likes it so much they’re known to throw “favorite” in front of it whenever it comes up in conversation. You don’t have to like a beer, but always keep in mind: your not liking it doesn’t make it bad. Subjective bad and objective bad are wildly different beasts. If you’re into beer enough to have opinions (and don’t just enjoy it as a drink), it’s on you to be able to acknowledge when a beer is well made but not to your tastes, verses poorly made, and not up to the quality standards of excellent beer.

Memory is tied to taste, and I was hoping that sipping on some Belgian beer would cause a chemical cascade of mnemonic flashes. But it didn’t. It just reminded me of all the ways I’ve tried to force myself to like a style because of faux cultural pressure and personally manufactured expectation, and how, when looking at it in hindsight, that seems like a very silly thing.

hsredskyatnight

Maryland Beer Bloggers Meet-up – Heavy Seas Brewery

February 24, 2014 · by Oliver Gray

I could wax social about how great it was to meet John, Jake, Doug, and Sean at the Heavy Seas Brewery this Saturday, but my voice is hoarse so I’ll let my camera do the talking.

270 degree panorama of the brewhouse and new bottling line

270 degree panorama of the brewhouse and new bottling line (clicky for biggy)

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Brewery Visit: Heavy Seas Tap Room and Yule Tide Imperial Red

November 7, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

My wife will probably agree that I’m not the most impulsive person in the world. Quirky, sure. Borderline crazy at times? I won’t argue. But definitely not go-buy-ten-kittens or fly-to-Mexico-after-work impulsive. I like to plan, make sure things are in order, have some sense of the logic of my path before I set to walking it.

Unless I hear the words “rum” and “beer” used in conjunction.

Lured by the siren call of pirate themed delights and the promise of freshly shucked oysters, I went straight from work to the Heavy Seas Brewery last night to attend the grand opening of the new tap room and the pre-release of Yule Tide Imperial Red Ale – get this – on impulse.

It felt right, so I went. I like this impulse thing.

Yule Tide, brewed with ginger and aged in Appleton Farms rum barrels, boasts an impressively subtle mixture of flavors. The rum is very present on the nose, but gives way to the full bodied (9% ABV) imperial red below, not showing up again until a bit of a liquor burn in the aftertaste. The ginger hides well, but comes out as the beer sits, especially in the last few swirls of the tulip. If you’re into sipping beer that warms your belly, I suggest you give it a try.

I took some pictures. They can say a lot more than I can.

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Beer Chat: Caroline Sisson on Beer and Social Media

October 18, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

My first real job involved beta testing video games for Compact Disc Interactive, otherwise known as the Philips CD-i. This understated black box – an all-in-one movie, internet, and gaming machine – predated the PS3 and XBox 360 by 15 years. It failed, commercially, due to some management kerfuffles, a stupidly high price tag, and a consumer base who wasn’t ready for one device to take over every TV-related function. But it set some solid paving stones into the unrefined dirt that Nintendo, Sony, and Microsoft would all step on years later as they built their flagship consoles.

I had this awesome experience (which for better or worse fueled my lifelong video game obsession) because my Dad, John Gray, was the president of Philips Media Professional. He was responsible for the development of new titles, sourcing of hardware, and myriad other fancy corporate executive things that I never fully understood. I just knew that I got to play video games before anyone else did, because my dad had a kickass job. The archived NewsWire article about his original appointment can be found here, for anyone interested.

I have a soft spot for family business. I wouldn’t have gotten into IT or homebrewing (and I guess in turn, never started this blog) if my dad hadn’t taken his vocational machete to the thicket long before I got to the jungle. He taught me to appreciate work and fun in the same way he always did, and I owe much of my success to his mentoring.

Caroline Sisson is the daughter of Hugh Sisson, the founder and owner of Heavy Seas Beer. She’s just like me, really; given a chance to see into (and appreciate) a world that those on the outside find fascinating, because of her ties to her father. I know there exist a sort of jealousy and disdain for that kind of inborn nepotism, but Caroline seems to echo her father’s love of the business and the beer.

I asked her some questions.

Tell us a little bit about yourself, your background, and your role at Heavy Seas.

My name is Caroline Sisson and I’ve been working in the marketing department at Heavy Seas for just a little over a year.  I got into the beer business mainly because my father, Hugh Sisson, is the founder of Heavy Seas Beer and I grew up learning about/exposed to the craft beer culture.

I’m a graduate of Susquehanna University with a business marketing degree.  I do a lot of different things within the company, which keeps my job exciting:

  • I handle our social media
  • I write & publish our monthly email newsletter
  • I post & promote our beer events and work events

How did growing up with a Dad who owned a brew pub/brewery affect your opinion of beer? Where you predisposed to good beer? Did you have a “bad phase” in college that maybe your dad wouldn’t have been so proud of?

Growing up, I thought it was really cool that my dad made beer for a living, but I don’t think I really “appreciated” or realized how cool it was until college. While I was still in college, I would work brewery tours and some events during my breaks, so I was exposed to craft beer at a younger age than many of my friends. But I definitely was just like everyone else; a broke college kid who could only afford Natty Light on the weekends for $12 bucks a case or whatever it was at the dingy little beer store in the small town where I went to college (and my dad knows about this phase). After I graduated and started working for the brewery, that’s when I really started learning and experiencing the wonders of craft beer. I’ve learned a lot in my time, and have been fortunate enough to attend national beer events like the Great American Beer Festival and SAVOR, where I’ve tasted some amazing beers. I love craft beer now, and have realized that “once you go craft… you never go back”.

Give us a day in the life of a social media manager at a brewery.

I usually start off by looking over our events calendar and reviewing what’s coming up, so that I can plan tweets, FB posts, etc., accordingly. I spend time looking over each tweet or post to see if it was effective. For example, how many retweets or favorites did I get on Twitter, or how many people liked or shared a FB post. Our ultimate goal is to reach as many people we can. I also spend some time monitoring others breweries on social media to see what works for them.

Do you have a specific strategic plan, or do you have a more organic approach?

Overall, we try to make every tweet, post or anything shared on social media unique to Heavy Seas. By that I mean, it reflects our personality, our interests, our goals, things that we are excited about, etc.

Do you think social media is important for a brewery beyond promoting events and appearances? If you had to rank the importance of the social media platforms, which would be at the top, and which would be at the bottom? 

Absolutely – I think social media is a great way of connecting and interacting with our consumers; the people who drink and appreciate our beer. I’d say that Facebook & Twitter are tied for first. Although I tweet on a daily basis, and post on Facebook on a weekly basis, both are strong tools that we use to communicate to our followers and share information. Instagram is another area where we want to grow.

I know a lot of craft enthusiasts use Instagram. How do you feel about #beertography? Do you like to see shots of your beer out there in the wild?

Definitely! I can’t always retweet or share every photo taken of our beer, but it’s flattering to see people enjoying our product so much that they want to take a picture and share it with the social media world.

What’s your favorite thing about interacting with the beer community?

Making friends with people who love craft beer & share a passion for it.

Is there anything specific you’d like to tell the beer drinking world?

Life is too short to drink shitty beer.

Caroline often attends Heavy Seas events, and I’m sure you’ll run into her if you’re planning to attend any of the upcoming shindigs connected to Baltimore Beer Week. Caroline has also kindly offered to answer any questions you guys might have, so ask away in the comments. I’ll compile them and send them to her for follow-up.

Here’s a picture of me and her at my visit to the brewery (just so you can recognize her if you see her in person):

oliver and caroline

I’m the one wearing the hat. No, not that one. The one on the right.

Beer Review: Heavy Seas Davy Jones Lager

October 14, 2013 · by Oliver Gray

All this week my posts will be related to Heavy Seas Beer of Baltimore, Maryland. Why? Because they make great beer, are a local favorite, and were nice enough to let me wander around their brewery for a few hours with a camera. 

Lager yeast and I have never seen eye-to-eukaryote. Every time I brew with it, I’m overly concerned by the lack of quick airlock-action, the diminutive krausen, and the whole needing to keep it cold even though that doesn’t make any logical sense to me. “Bottom fermentation” hides in that foggy part of my brain where I kind of understand what’s going on in terms of beer-science, but also still think it’s some kind of mystic raffinose related ritual.

For a long time, I thought all pale lagers tasted the same. I created a mental association between “lager” and “light,” as if all light beers were lagers, and vice versa. Unless it was something obviously different (like a märzen or a bock), that fizzy yellow-gold stuff all fell safely in the “mowing the lawn on a mid-July Saturday” category. Plenty of refreshment, but not much in terms of complexity. I blame four collegiate years of destroying my taste buds on Milwaukee’s Best Ice.

My fridge – colloquially named “The Beerhome” – is full of ales. That’s sort of its lot in life: a house with the thermostat stuck at 40º, bunk beds ready for several perfectly lined-up rows of stouts, IPAs, porters, and pales. I try to venture into new territory, but the tongue wants what it wants. Lagers don’t usually rent a room in the Beerhome unless 1) I’m having a party, or 2) I just had a party.

I bought Heavy Seas Davy Jones Lager because I’m a pirate. No hyperbole or jokes, I am legitimately a pirate. I have proof:

I'm the one on the right, with the beer. This was at work.

I’m the one on the right. This is a normal outfit for me.

I’m obligated to try a beer that is pirate themed, even if it’s outside of my normal taste spectrum.

And I’m glad I did.

Unlike other traditional pale lagers, Davy Jones Lager ferments at ale temperatures (~68-70º F), and is then dropped to lager temperatures for the storing process. This is the same process used to create California Steam/Common beer, for those inquiring minds. Warm temperature tolerant yeasts became popular in the 1800s when refrigeration was a luxury not every brewery could afford, especially not during the primary fermentation phase.

The result of this temperature dance is a beer that honors the clear and crisp legacy of other lagers, but also retains fruity esters and complex malt notes. It tends to be creamier than lagers fermented cold, which pleases us picky, ale-centric drinkers. It’s got more up-front hop flavor (a nice citrus bump that I think comes from the Centennials), which is an appreciated departure from the bitter dryness of Czech style pilsners, or any of the American adjunct lagers.

At 6% it’s a bit stronger than you might expect from an “easy drinking” beer, but there are no phenols or fusels present anywhere. Davy Jones has quickly become one of my favorite beers to relax with after work. It’s also a great beer to gently introduce your Bud and Coors friends to the world of craft. Sadly, Heavy Seas only plans to brew it from May-July, so I’ll just have to fill the holds of my ship (basement) with enough to tide me over these harsh Maryland winters.

Heavy Davy Jones Lager Vitals:

  • ABV: 6.0%
  • IBUs: 30
  • Hops: Warrior, Fuggle, Palisade, Centennial
  • Malts: 2-Row, Flaked Maize, Wheat Malt, Biscuit

davyjones3

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

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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.

Review: Heavy Seas The Great Pumpkin

October 1, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

I’m not going to talk about Charlie Brown, so if that’s what you’re expecting, Peanuts to you.

Awwww, Schulz.

In preparation for my own mad experiment, I had to do a lot of field research. This involved spending a lot of money on a lot of different pumpkin ales in an attempt to find the perfect harmony of hops and spice and pumpkin and bring it to life in the bubbling fermentation bucket of my imagination.

P.S. I kegged it this weekend. It’s alive! And all that.

Smuttynose Pumpkin is heavy on the bittering hops, which detracts from the overall pumpkinoscity. Wolaver’s Organic Pumpkin Ale is tasty, but finishes off more like a malty brown ale with only tiny residual pumpkiny bits left to slide around your palette. Shock Top Pumpkin Wheat and my beloved Harpoon UFO Pumpkin come off as too light, nearly tasteless compared to their full bodied breatheren. Oddly enough, the best pumpkin flavor I found was in Woodchuck Pumpkin cider (I know, WTF), but I still can’t decide if the taste seems artificial when paired with cloyingly sweet apple cider.

And little to my surprise, sitting on the top of the discard remains of my research sits Dogfish Head Punkin Ale. The stuff is just stupidly good. I’m serious. I get stupid(er) when drinking it. Even stupider than when I normally drink large amounts of beer on an empty stomach over a short period of time while trying to do my homework that is due in 18 hours.

Not that that sort of thing happens often.

But just as I was about to crown Dogfish Head the undisputed champion of my Fall drinking habit, Heavy Seas – The Great Pumpkin steps in, punching me straight in the jaw with a right jab of deliciousness. I’m usually wary of anything with the word “Imperial” in front of it (porter, IPA, storm troopers) because of the implications of such a specifically applied word. Imperial usually means sweet, strong, high ABV, higher than normal “fall out of your chair” count. It has always symbolically stood for the opposite of why I drink beer, standing in bold opposition to refreshment and crispness.

Heavy Seas has proven me wrong. The Imperial Pumpkin Ale that is “The Great Pumpkin” is, excuse the empty word, amazing. Perhaps the sweet spiciness of pumpkin ale as a style lends itself to the Empire. I don’t know, I’m not from a galaxy far far away.

But I do know that this beer does everything right. Unlike Imperial pilsners, it pours with a small white head that fires cinnamon and nutmeg aromas up your nose if you get too close. It is a brownish gold, like the top of a perfectly baked apple turnover. It smells sweet and buttery, as if someone stuck an entire pumpkin pie – crust and vanilla ice cream included – into a Blendtec blender and left it on “eviscerate” for 10 to 12 hours.

Will it blend? Hell yea it will blend.

The result is a beer that may actually be the physical embodiment of the whole season. Deep inside of each sip you can see the leaves changing color, hear your family bickering over who gets lights versus dark meat, smell the wood smoke of freshly lit fires on a cold October evening. It is the best Pumpkin Ale (that I have tried) in the WORLD.

Sorry DFH, you had a good run. I still love you though. Now, come in slightly cheaper six packs and we may be able to rekindle this love affair. Until then, HS: TGP is my gal.

10 out of 10.

“Research.”

Review: Heavy Seas Classic Lager

April 3, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

I can’t say I left the best for last, but I definitely didn’t leave the worst for last. Or the best for first, or worst for first. The order was completely arbitrary, truth be told.

I’m not saying I don’t plan out my blog posts, but I don’t plan out my blog posts.

Beers like this make me question how Budweiser makes any sales. When you could get this beer for a few dollars more, I don’t know why you’d ever bother with anything that dare call itself, “lager-style” beer. That’s a psuedo-name, like Yoohoo “chocolate drink “or Velveeta “synthetic cheese-rubber hybrid product.” Humans probably aren’t supposed to consume “-style” things.

I’m not saying “lager-style” beers cause mysterious illnesses, but it might explain a lot.

Heavy Seas Classic Lager is both classic and a lager. It’s very light (much lighter than anything I have already reviewed) making it a great Spring/Summer time beer. It lacks any semblance of sweetness, probably because it was made with real ingredients, not weird adjuncts and unspecified amounts of the “Secret Ingredient” (high fructose corn syrup).

I’m not saying mainstream American brews are made with high fructose corn syrup, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

I poured this into a glass for the sake of photography (this is my favorite photo, for anyone who has read them all), but in the future I’d drink it straight from the bottle. It doesn’t have a powerful aroma that needs a glass to breathe, and you’re more likely to spill it while gesticulating wildly in the throws of a particularly animated story-telling.

I’m not saying I wave my arms around like maniac after a few beers, but I could be confused with an Italian person.

Yuengling is (for better or worse) my go-to lager. It’s flavorful and cheap and goes down relatively smooth. But my palette is changing, growing, evolving. I’m starting to appreciate something with a little more intensity, and I think HS:CA can scratch that itch. It’s like one of those little hand-on-a-stick back scratchers, but made of beer.

I’m not saying I make bad analogies, but some of the stuff I say doesn’t make much sense at all.

Buy! Enjoy! Thank me later! By buying me a beer!

8.25 out of 10

We drink our beer from mason jars.

Thanks to everyone who read (and hopefully enjoyed) my reviews. I plan to do more in the future, and will probably turn this into a weekly column at some point.

Stay tuned!

Review: Heavy Seas Loose Cannon IPA

April 1, 2012 · by Oliver Gray

A loose cannon aboard a pirate ship would probably be a pretty terrifying thing.

~3,500 lbs of steel and iron rolling around wildly at the whims of the waves, slamming into man and barrels of rum alike.

I can’t imagine anything good ever came of a loose cannon, short of that one scene in At World’s End when they loose the cannons to tip the boat upside down (which probably would have totally worked and MythBusters should try that).

Unless you count this beer, which would be a great thing to come of a loose cannon, if only in name.

This is a flagship (I’m just overflowing with bad puns) beer for Heavy Seas and I’ve seen it on tap in more than one bar. It’s a pretty traditional and well presented IPA with generous hopping and a crisp, only-slightly-bitter return.

I could talk with this beer.  Talk about politics. About the state of the union. About which weapons would be the best to fight of a smallish throng of classic, Romero-style zombies. The important things in life.

I could walk with this kind of beer. On the beach. Around my yard as I mow. To the local 7-11 to get week-old taquitos. This beer can and should go places.

I could get deep with this beer. Talk about astronomy. Physics. Which deep sea creatures are the most horrifically nightmarish and why. This beer will make your brain even juicier than it was prior to you drinking it.

And despite the fact that I don’t actually know how, I could sail with this beer.

I could point the 30 pounders at my enemy’s broadside. I could cut across the wind, leaving her dead in the water. I could yell to my men to “loose the cannons!” and they would all stand around looking at me, wondering why the hell I’m the captain when I clearly don’t know what I’m doing.

I meant, if you had let me finish,  “Fire!”

Its color is similar to Dogfish Head Shelter Pale. It’s more orange and opaque than Harpoon IPA (which is surprisingly yellow, but I digress) but it is also heavier, and slightly sharper in terms of carbonation. It has a generous head that will give you a nice beer mustache if you’re too eager to drink. It’s sour and savory, like a bottle of hot sauce minus the chili.

I’m a fan of this IPA. I buy it frequently. Partly because it’s a Maryland beer, partly just because it’s flat-out good. Dogfish head 60 minute is arguably a better IPA, but Loose Cannon is cheery, casual, and cheap(er).

8 out of 10.

Drinking beer on the stairs, an old pirate tavern pastime.

Next up: Smuttynose Star Island Single!

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