Sunday Suds: Jolly Pumpkin Noel de Calabaza

A relatively impromptu visit to Teresa's Next Door last night led first to a wonderfully thirst quenching glass of De Ranke "Père Noël" (on tap), which led next to a leisurely perusal of the menu and, in turn, to a quite fortunate flip by my dining partner to the rear of Teresa's book of beers.  To the holiday bottle page.  To this little gem.

Noel de Calabaza Special Ale, Jolly Pumpkin (Blend 3, 2009)
9% abv. 750 ml bottles.  Distributor: Shelton Brothers
"Noel de Calabaza" is a Belgian-style strong dark ale, brewed annually and released each winter holiday season by the wild fermenting, oak aging adventurers at Jolly Pumpkin.  While in name it's the Christmas companion to "Oro de Calabaza," the only obvious similarity comes via that characteristic Jolly Pumpkin sour streak—part wild yeast, part lactic acid, entirely delicious.  Otherwise, we're dealing with an entirely darker, maltier, spicier animal, albeit one that is eminently drinkable, just barely if at all hinting at its 9% alcohol level.

A year of bottle aging (notice the batch number, above) has rounded out the beer's mouthfeel and subdued its spiciness since this time last season, bringing the focus around to its dark fruited, wine-y nuance, yet plenty of vitality remains, suggesting that it will continue to develop through at least a couple more Noels.  While, for me, it doesn't quite deliver in that instantly magical, "God damn, this is some serious gourmet shit" way that "Oro" does, it's nonetheless a damn fine holiday beer.

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Sunday Suds: Dogfish Head Saison du Buff

Image courtesy of Dogfish Head.

BUFF (Brewers United for Freedom of Flavor) was first conceptualized way back in 2003.  It took only seven years for the triumvirate—Sam Calagione at Dogfish Head, Bill Covaleski of Victory Brewing Company, and Greg Koch at Stone Brewing Company—responsible for BUFF's genesis to put plans into action for their first collaborative brew.

Calagione and Covaleski got together with Greg Koch at Stone's San Diego headquarters early in 2010 to brew together.  What they came up with was "Saison du Buff," a Saison-style ale kicked up the "freedom of flavor" scale via the addition of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme in the brewing process.  The plan, as eventually executed, was for each brewery to make its own version using the same recipe and ingredients but of course utilizing its own equipment and brewers.

Stone was the first to release their version, in March 2010, with both Dogfish Head and Victory following suit late in the summer of 2010.  All were relatively limited-edition releases and, so far as I know, are not intended for repeat brewing and release in the future, although one never can tell.  Such brews sometime take on lives of their own.

Were I a more thorough beer geek (and a much more advance planning shopper), I'd have gone out of my way to procure all three versions in order to do a side-by-side tasting and comparison.  For now, though, I hope you can make do with my thoughts on just one of my local versions.

Image courtesy of yours truly.

"Saison du Buff," Dogfish Head Craft Brewery
6.8% abv.  12 oz. bottles.
The Dogfish Head iteration of Saison du Buff pours to a slightly hazy, burnished lemon yellow color in the glass.  Highly charged, it yields a more than generous, slightly chunky head, kept alive by quite active, steady carbonation.  Its lemony, intensely herbal aromas are dominated by the pininess of rosemary, then backed up by the faintly musky scent of sage. Rosemary and sage's other herbal brewing companions are less apparent on the nose but do come through on the palate, where the faint bitterness of parsley and subtly sweet woodsiness of thyme make themselves known.  Would I be saying all this if I didn't know the four herbs used in the brew?  Perhaps not, but knowing, it certainly makes sense in the tasting.  All of the above is wrapped up with a reasonably fruity mid-palate of grapefruit and pineapple, and a very crisp, refreshing drive.

Not surprisingly, given the fairly full throttle style of the overall beer programs at Victory and, especially, Stone and Dogfish Head, Saison du Buff is considerably hoppier than the a traditional European Saison.  To me, it actually drinks more like a Saison crossed with a fresh style of IPA.  While its alcohol level (6.8% abv) isn't much if at all higher than the classic Saison, it seems to pack more of a wallop than I usually associate with, say, Dupont Saison (at a quite similar 6.5%), pushing it out of session beer territory and toward the table.  Grilled, white fleshed fish or roast chicken would be nice pairings, methinks.

As appealing as all of the above may sound, it doesn't come without a caveat.  So highly perfumed as to border on scented soap territory, Dogfish Head's version of Saison du Buff beckons to my mind more than my gut—more intellectually compelling than downright delicious.  That said, you won't find me trying to pawn off what remains of my half-case.

I wonder if the Victory version is still kicking around somewhere nearby....

Intro only...

Sunday Suds: Sly Fox Oktoberfest Lager

Sometimes I feel as if I get carried away when writing tasting notes.  The most enthralling wines and beers can sometimes lead me to fill two or even three pages in my omnipresent moleskine notebook.  There are plenty of other great wines and beers, though, that don't make me think so much as they simply make me want to drink... and enjoy.

Sly Fox Oktoberfest Lager is a perfect example—just about all I could ask for in an American Oktoberfest.  My most recent case purchase, I may just have to head back for another before it's gone for the season (that is, assuming it's not already).  Honestly, I've been enjoying it with such ease that I'm now practically forcing myself to sit here and write something about it.  Hey, I wanted to share the goodness.

A slightly hazy copper/amber color in the glass, it leads off with an easy, draw-you-in, malt-driven roundness before leading on to a dry but gentle, mildly hopped, finish with nuances of mulling spices, whole wheat bread and orange zest.  That's all the tasting note you're getting.  (Well, okay, I'll add this, from the back of the can: OG 13.8° Plato, 25 IBUs, 5.8% alcohol by volume.)  Now get on out there and try some for yourself.

NB: Sly Fox is one of the leading practitioners of canning in the US craft brewing community.  Their cans may be a bitch to photograph without professional equipment, but they're attractive, lightweight, impermeable to light and air, easily recycled, have a smaller carbon footprint than bottled beer, and, thanks to a water based coating that lines the can's interior, don't impart any metallic flavors to their precious contents.  Do yourself a favor, though: pour the contents into your favorite beer glass for full and proper enjoyment.

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Sunday Suds: Drie Fonteinen Beersel Lager

Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen is best known, I think it's fair to say, for its lambic and gueuze — by and large spontaneously fermented, sour, and often fruit-infused styles of Belgian beer.  It's certainly fair to say that's what I know them for best.  Their Oude Kriek, in particular, is a benchmark for me.  As much as I like Cantillon's Kriek, the version from Drie Fonteinen is less savagely tart but every bit as complex... and more downright drinkable.

It's that drinkability that draws me to their slightly more mainstream line of beers, as well.  Called "Beersel," after the town of Beersel where the brewery is located, the lineup includes a Belgian blond ale, an organic ("Biologisch") version of the same beer, and a lager.  I've seen the Beersel Lager, the topic of today's post, alternately referred to as Czech pilsner in style.  From my palate's perspective, though, I'd put it firmly in the classic lager camp — light amber in color, round and crisp yet fairly soft in mouthfeel; less bright and herbaceous, more malt-rich than what I think of as a classic pilsner.  While its carbonation level is higher than in the gueuze from 3Fonteinen, it would be considered low-carbonation by American standards, an attribute that adds to the beers easy drinking character.

Reasonably low-alcohol at 5.2%, straightforward up front, very gentle and open on the mid-palate, and just a wee funky on the finish, it goes down easy.  That bit'o'funk, meanwhile, makes me know I'm drinking not just any lager but a lager from Drie Fonteinen.  Not surprising, I suppose, given that it's brewed with the same basic ingredients used in the brewery's lambic production; selected bottom-fermenting yeast strains and a higher original gravity are the key differences.  If only it weren't so pricey (a single bottle averages around $6 US), I'd be happy to make a place for it in my regular, go-to rotation.

Intro only...

Sunday Suds: Yards Extra Special Ale

There's nothing quite like a good hand pump to bring you back to an old love....

If there's one beer iconic enough to symbolize the explosion of craft brewing here in the Delaware Valley over the last dozen or so years, it would have to be Yards Extra Special Ale (ESA, for short). If you walk into any of the scores, hundreds even, of establishments with reasonably serious beer programs in the greater Philadelphia area and simply ask for "a Yards, please," this is what you'll get, whether in bottle, on draft or pulled with a hand pump.

Officially founded in 1994, Yards Brewing Company introduced their ESA in 1995 (just months before I moved to the Philly area) and production of it has grown steadily ever since. I'm not sure I can pinpoint when and where I first downed a pint of it, but if I were to hazard a reasonable shot it would very likely have been at the Dawson Street Pub, not much more than a mile, if that, down the road from Yards' then home in a small warehouse space on Umbria Street in the Manayunk section of Philadelphia.

I loved it right away — a classic English-style ale, medium-bodied with a fine balance between maltiness and bitterness, nothing shy about it but, conversely, nothing in your face. And on the hand pump, at cellar temperature, which is how I remember it being served back then at Dawson's (where Yards ESA is still a staple on the beer engine), it was spot on. Creamy, soothing and all-night-drinkable.

Over the years, that love hit some hitches, began to fade. Yards grew. Their ESA appeared at more and more places around town. Sometimes there would be a not-so-fresh keg, a dirty draft line, a batch of bottles that hadn't been cared for properly somewhere along the supply chain. Or perhaps production sometimes outpaced the capacity to ensure consistency. I'm guessing it was a combination of all of those elements, not any one culprit. Of course, there were also always other beers clamoring to distract my attentions.

Alongside a dozen oysters and a lobster roll at Oyster House last night, though, I had a glass — two, actually — that brought me right back to that first love. Hand pulled. Perfectly fresh. Firkin temperature. Lovely texture. Pretty to look at, with a cascade in the glass that would remind many of a classic pour of Guinness. And, most importantly, even at 6% ABV, a touch high by session standards, eminently drinkable. Leave it to the hand pump....

Photo, which is of a standard draft pour of Yards ESA, courtesy of iandavid.

Intro only...

Sunday Suds: Sly Fox Route 113 India Pale Ale

With the occasional exception made for limited edition pours or situational necessity, most of my beer exploration and consumption this summer has centered on the broad category know as session beer. Beer writer Lew Bryson and the rest of the crew over at The Session Beer Project™ loosely define the genre to include any beer, in any style, clocking at 4.5% alcohol or lower. I tend to be even more generous, sliding my own scale up to 5%, not because I feel it gets me better beer, just because it offers more in the way of off-premise options while still keeping things on the drinkable — by which I mean more than one can/bottle/pint — end of the spectrum.

That means that all summer long I've been enjoying kolsch, pilsner, sour ale and pale ale, categories that by and large still often make the session beer cut. With the weather turning abruptly autumnal in the last week, though, my hankerings have wandered to the more assertive realm of India Pale Ale, or IPA for short, a stronger, hoppier breed of pale ale originally developed as a means to help beer survive the arduous sea voyage from England to India, where ale was considered a necessity of life by the British colonialists of the 18th and 19th Centuries.

In more modern times, and particularly in the last decade or so, it's IPA that has most widely captured the imagination and experimental spirit of craft brewers in the US, leading to a veritable explosion of heavily hopped ales. It's a style that's particularly popular on the left and right coasts, and one that's been very successful for many of the Philadelphia area's local breweries. Here's one of my current favorites:

Sly Fox Brewing Company "Route 113" India Pale Ale
16.4 OG, 113 IBUs, 7% ABV.
Orange-hued amber, bordering on opaque, with a rich, creamy though modestly proportioned head. For those that care about such things, it laces up the glass quite nicely, too.

Pretty classic IPA aromas, albeit bordering toward the rich end of the spectrum: peach preserves, goldenrod, moist ganja bud, and spiced orange peel. The beer's creamy appearance is echoed in its texture — clean, dense and bready.

Though it's hardly shy, it pulls off its 7% ABV in fine style, with balance, drinkability and depth of flavor. It gets there without relying on the overt sweetness that's often used to counter the natural bitterness coming from high hop levels and without falling into the soapy/weedy trap that the IPA category can present. The fact that head brewer Brian O'Reilly and the rest of the team at Sly Fox are now offering "113" in 12 oz. cans rather than just in 22 oz. bottles is an added bonus. Session beer it's not, but at least one can manage two without being pushed over the top.

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Sunday Suds: Ballast Point Yellowtail Pale Ale

It's been about a year since first I landed on Ballast Point, not as a member of the Navy, mind you, but as a willing explorer of the finer things in brew. I'd stopped in for a visit at one of my favorite Philly-area beer distributors, The Beeryard, in search of a certain IPA I'd tasted during a Philly Beer Week event. Though they had not what I was seeking, the man behind the counter, along with the help of another guy who seemed to be just hanging out, were only too happy to guide me to the IPA from San Diego's Ballast Point Brewing Company as a viable stand-in. Rather than dive head first into a full case, I picked up a Ballast Point sampler case. And while I fully enjoyed their "Big Eye IPA," it turned out to be their lighter, fresher Pale Ale that really set my taste buds alight.

Fast forward a year and there I was back at The Beeryard, this time in search of something light, fresh and quaffable for summertime refreshment. I'd gone in hoping for a case of Gaffel Kolsch but, again, my primary goal was not satisfied. No worries, as in my perusal up and down the high-piled aisles I stumbled upon an old friend, that very same Pale Ale from Ballast Point I'd first tried a year earlier.

Ballast Point's "Yellowtaile Pale Ale," you see, was actually a perfectly apropos replacement, as it actually is a Kolsch (Kolsch is a stylistic subset of the Pale Ale family), brewed in very much the same style as traditional German Kolsch such as that from Gaffel. It could be argued that it's just a touch more assertive in both the alcohol and hoppiness department than most of its German counterparts, but I do mean just a touch. It's still first and foremost about cool, immaculately clean, crisp and refreshing mouthfeel. And at 5%, it's still very much in my session beer comfort zone. This time I jumped in case first, and came up happy.

Nota bene: A quick look at Ballast Point's website suggests that they have dropped the "Yellowtail" moniker, now calling this brew simply "Pale Ale," though the label still sports an image of its former namesake fish.

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A First Look at Adsum

"I am here" (or at least I was a few nights ago). That's the chosen name, in its Latin form "adsum," for the new Queen Village/Southwark-based bistro owned and operated by Chef Matt Levin. The moniker seems not so much a statement of hubris as it is a conveyor of personal space. Levin has moved away, at least in part, from the intensive molecular gastronomy approach that earned him accolades during his stint as top chef at Lacroix, moving more toward, as he suggested in an interview with Meal Ticket earlier this year, food he'd actually take comfort in eating himself.

Beyond the obvious shift toward simplicity relative to the Lacroix days, Levin's new approach begs a simple question: does the food at Adsum actually deliver on the promise of comfort? Let's take a look.

Foie gras poutine
This dish would seem a sure hit on the comfort scale, in spite of the PETA-pounding, haute-cuisine knock up added by the fatted liver. The idea was right, and the combination clever, but the execution could use some work. Bordering on being both overcooked and under-seasoned, the duck-fat fries were tepid when delivered to the table. The rest of the elements — foie gras, cheese curds and gravy — were right on, though there wasn't quite enough gravy to go around.


Grilled rock octopus, black pepper caramel
This sounded much more unusual on paper than it was on the plate, as the "black pepper caramel" essentially boils down to being barbecue sauce — and very tasty, I might add. The octopus was cooked perfectly, ever so lightly crisped by the grill on the exterior but tender and just a wee bit snappy, not at all tough or chewy, at its core. The char from the grilling combined with the caramelized sauce to form a granular texture that didn't really bother me but was slightly off-putting to my dining companion.


Fried chicken, collards, ham hocks, hot sauce
Along with the FG poutine, the fried chicken seems destined to be the signature dish at Adsum. Philadelphia Inquirer food columnist Rick Nichols has already deemed it the best fried chicken in the city. While I can't say I've eaten my fried chicken way around town to the extent that Rick has, I can certainly see why he liked it so much; the chicken itself was drop dead delicious. The battered skin was ightly crisped and crunchy without being at all overbearing or greasy while the meat was juicy, moist and almost flaky in its delicacy.

More crumbly than flaky, the biscuit, a clear nod to the dish's southern origins (as if the chicken and collards weren't clear enough) was flavorful but too dry, needing either a dose of gravy or a more breakfast-oriented slathering of butter and jam to render it less palate parching. And the ham-hocked, hot-sauced collards? At first bite they were a revelation — surprisingly tender yet toothsome, highly caramelized yet still delivering the requisite kicks of vinegar and porky goodness. As the bites continued, however, the red pepper hot sauce driven heat built and built, eventually to the point that it was robbing the dish of its otherwise nuanced flavors.


Whole fish, shrimp salt, popped wild rice, green sauce
Popped rice – little more than a gimmicky distraction adorning the corner of the plate – aside, this was the most completely satisfying and well balanced dish of the night, helped along no doubt by the first appearance of any seasonal ingredients. Though the skin on our black bass could have benefited from just a bit more pan-crisping, the fish itself was moist, flavorful and cooked to a tee, with a welcome brightness provided by the tangy spice of the green sauce, a sort of guacamole/tomatillo salsa hybrid.

The real star of the night.

Mama's Little Yella Pils, Oskar Blues Brewery, Lyons, Colorado.
Much like at nearby Southwark (one block due east at 4th & Bainbridge) and Chick's Cafe (two blocks west at 7th & Kater), the primary focus of the beverage program at Adsum appears to be cocktails. There's a list of six or seven house concoctions that looked not only quite creative but also quite inviting, enough so that I'd happily venture back for a drink at the bar sometime. I'm not a fan of cocktails with food, though, so it was on to the wine list I went.... And then, quickly, on to the beer list, which thankfully included several things I'd actually opt to drink, regardless of circumstances. "Mama's Little Yella Pils" actually struck me more like a kolsch, round, clean and less bitter than the classic Pilsner profile. Just the refreshing kick needed for a hot night in the city, and a fine accompaniment to the broad spectrum of flavors and textures that crossed our plates.

There's some dialing-in to be done in the kitchen at Adsum. The wine list needs major improvement, or at least corkage needs to be allowed. But overall, there's plenty to recommend and, certainly, plenty of potential.



Adsum
700 South 5th Street
(at Bainbridge)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
(267) 888-7002

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Sunday Suds: Dogfish Head "Namaste"

There's a whole lotta mashing up going on around the craft beer globe these days. Brewers are teaming up in twos, threes and tens to ply their trade, flex their creative muscle, share techniques and no doubt learn a few things along the way. Sometimes its happening right around the corner, sometimes its bringing together brewers from oceans away.

One of the most active progenitors of this collaborative craze has to be Sam Calagione, founder, owner and head brew cheese at Delaware's Dogfish Head.

Now in its second year as a summer seasonal, Dogfish Head's "Namaste" was originally conceived in 2009 via a four-way, intercontinental team-up between Sam and his wife Mariah, Dogfish Head lead brewer Bryan Selders, and Leonardo DiVincenzo, owner of the central Italian craft brewery Birra del Borgo. There was an aspect of charitable giving in the mix, too. Part of the proceeds for the first-year sales of "Namaste" were donated to Armand Debelder of Drie Fonteinen, who lost about a third of a year's production of his lambics and gueuzes due to a thermostat malfunction in the storage area at 3 Fonteinen. In that first year, "Namaste" was available only on draft and only at the Dogfish Head brewpub in Rehoboth Beach, DE. This year, Sam, Mariah and Bryan brewed a bit more, enough to to pour on draft as well as to allow for a limited bottling in crown-sealed 750s.

"Namaste" is brewed in the tradition of Belgian white ales. Given the wheat, coriander and citrus elements in the mix, Hoegaarden would seem the most obvious point of comparison; "Namaste," however, is a touch rounder and broader in texture and also a tad darker in both its color and flavor profiles. Whether that's the result of the use of entire slices (dried) of orange rather than just the zest or whether it's just the Dogfish Head signature showing through I can't say. What I can say is that the brew is refreshing and very easy going down, a bit short on the finish but very tasty up front. At only 5% ABV, it's also quite light by the standards at Dogfish Head, a brewery best known for its over-the-top, hop monster and ancient recipe inspired creations. You can read more about it at the Dogfish website as well as on Sam's blog.

If the info on the DFH site is correct, "Namaste" may not be available outside of the state of Delaware. I enjoyed this bottle, shared over dinner with friends, at Wilmington's Domaine Hudson. Whether there's any still available there I don't know but, if not, there's plenty of other great stuff to choose from on the restaurant and wine bar's recently expanded and quite adventurous list of 120+ bottled beers.

Oh yeah, as for the title of today's post, I know it's not Sunday but, in homage to the crazy cats at Dogfish Head, so what? I drank this on Saturday and wrote about it on Monday, so Sunday it is. After all, it's my blog and I'll do what I want.

Intro only...

Sunday Suds: New Glarus Berliner Weiss

No wonder this struck me as so wine-y when I stuck my nose in my glass.... I didn't know it at the time but I'm now reading on the New Glarus Brewing Company website that their "Unplugged" Berliner Weiss, based on a mash of Wisconsin White Wheat, was indeed fermented with both Riesling and Pinot Gris grapes included in the barrel. The damn beer reminded me of something I'd had in my wine glass before. Actually, a cross between a couple of things. Namely, Thierry Puzelat Romorantin and Movia Lunar, with all the citrusy, zesty, floral and herbal intensity of the two, but minus the mineral depth of the former and the slightly oxidative character of them both. This was all about freshness and savor. I'm not sure it's exactly a typical example of the berliner weisse style but in this case I really didn't care. I was so tasty that, man, I could have kept on drinking it all night.

I asked my friend Jeff, who'd wheeled it along to dinner in response to my recent plaint about the absence of acidity in most beers, to bring me back a case on his next trip to Wisconsin. It seems, he told me, that little if any of New Glarus' production leaves Wisconsin. Exacerbating those logistical issues, it turns out that the "Unplugged" series of beers produced by New Glarus brewmaster Dan Carey are essentially one-offs, brews made on a whim and with wild abandon, with little or no promise of repetition.

Brewed with top-fermenting yeasts (five different strains in this case) along with the addition of lactobacillus culture, the berliner weisse style usually has a refreshingly tart, citric character. In Germany as well as here in the States, berliner weisse is often served with the addition of raspberry syrup (red) or woodruff syrup (green) to cut the beer's tartness. But please, no sweet'n'sticky stuff when it comes to the New Glarus version. This beer is way too good in its unadulterated and, dare I say, unplugged form.

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Sunday Suds: La Trappe Isid'or

I've been meaning to start a regular beer feature here for some time. No time like the present, no? My chosen moniker — "Sunday Suds" — is intended to deliver enough of a self-administered kick in the butt to keep it going. I'm not promising something every week, mind you, but I'll do my best to make it at least a semi-regular feature. Without further ado, here's Sunday Suds #1.


Brewery de Koningshoeven, La Trappe "Isid'or" (7.5% alcohol, 750 ml)
In spite of the fact that Brewery de Koningshoeven is located in The Netherlands, I think it's fair to call this a Belgian-style amber ale or, perhaps more appropriately, a Trappist-style amber ale. One of only seven Trappist breweries in operation today, and the only one to be found outside the borders of Belgium, de Koningshoeven marked the 125th anniversary of the foundation of their brewery with the 2009 release of this commemorative beer. "Isid'or" is named for the brewery's founder, friar Isidorus Laaber, and will, at least in theory, be a one-time release. Time will tell whether its success will find it a place in the brewery's regular rotation.

Slightly cloudy and medium-amber colored in the glass, the beer's subtle hint of sweetness is balanced by a mildly bitter finish, driven by a subtle hop influence and its lightly roasted malt character. It paired more than admirably with a bowl of Kennett Square mushroom soup dressed up with local ramps and a bone marrow fritter (more details on that dish, part of a recent dinner at Talula's Table, later this week if time permits). The only thing I found lacking in the context of the pairing was acidity... but that's an issue I have with all but a few styles of beer. Perhaps a matter for discussion in a larger context on another day.... One thing, taste aside, that I really do dig about the beer is that it's brewed using "own-grown" hops, farmed by the friars themselves; very cool, and something that I believe is done at very few other breweries, regardless of location.

If you're a fan of Trappist ales, snag a bottle or three of this while it can still be found, just in case the Monks at the Koningshoeven Abbey hold true to the one-time plans for "Isid'or." All profits from its sale will be donated by the Friars to their brother Monks in Uganda to help them establish a new monastery.

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Victory Meets DiBruno's at Avalon Restaurant

It was dark and raw, the skies dumping torrents of rain on the streets of Philadelphia, slowly washing away the piles of snow, the promise of more white stuff to come looming large on the horizon. It was a Tuesday night in the middle of February, and I had to ask myself why I was getting into the car and heading out for an hour's drive at the peak of the evening commute. The answer, dear readers, was simple. Sustenance. The promise of good cooking, beer and cheese, to be more precise.

I'd been invited by restaurateur John Brandt-Lee, chef/owner of Avalon Restaurant in West Chester, Pennsylvania, to attend his first ever guided beer and cheese pairing dinner. (Full disclosure: dinner was John's treat.) For the last few months, John has been offering a complimentary beer and cheese pairing to diners on Friday nights; this event was a chance to take things to the next step, more fully exploring the interaction between beer, cheese and a multi-course meal built around the rustic yet modern Italian cuisine that forms the basis of the menu at Avalon.

The evening's presenters were Emilio Mignucci, owner of the Philadelphia-based cheese and specialty gourmet shop, DiBruno Brothers, and Bill Covaleski, brewmaster and co-founder of Victory Brewing Company, located in nearby Downingtown, PA. Brandt-Lee had reached out to Mignucci, from whom John sources the cheeses served at his restaurant. Emilio, in turn, suggested teaming up with Covaleski, with whom the folks at DiBruno's often conduct beer and cheese oriented events. And thus the triumvirate was formed.

Three men and a beer... but no wine? From left to right: Emilio Mignucci, owner of DiBruno Brothers; John Brandt-Lee, chef/owner of Avalon; and Bill Covaleski, brewmaster and founding partner at Victory Brewing Company. I had a great time talking shop with Emilio and Bill during their breaks from presenting and suggested that we reconvene at some point in the future for a wine-versus-beer cheese pairing event. They seemed more than game, so stay tuned for a time, date and venue to be determined.

To make it all work, John conceptualized a menu for the night and then worked with Mignucci to select the appropriate cheese(s) for use in each dish. Once their work was done, Covaleski, drawing from his own knowledge, instinct and experiences with food (much as do I when selecting wines to match a menu), chose one of Victory's brews to pair with each course. Here's what they all came up with:


"Cravero" 24-month Parmigiano-Reggiano Gelato with Truffle Honey
paired with Victory Lager
Apparently a staple at Avalon, our first course is often served as a complimentary amuse-bouche. To make the "gelato," Brandt-Lee blends cream and finely grated parmigiano in a double-boiler; the liquid mixture sets to a custard-like texture when cooled. The musky intensity of the truffle honey was a touch distracting but the dish was otherwise delicious, the creaminess of the cheese offset by the crunch of candied nuts, and contrasted by the subtle spice and sweetness of poached pears.

John Brandt-Lee, at left, putting the finishing touches on the amuse course alongside Avalon sous-chef Barry Salop.

Mignucci made a point of letting the crowd know that he prefers his Parmigiano young to middle-aged, when it's not as piquant and sharp as an ultra-aged example and still shows the complexity of its seasonal milk sources. For this dish, he chose a 24 month-old example selected and matured by Giorgio and Giacomo Cravero in their curing facilities in the town of Bra, located in the Roero district of Piemonte. While Covaleski could easily have chosen his benchmark Prima Pils for our first pour, the rounder, slightly richer yet still brisk and refreshing feel of the lager proved a harmonious match.



Baked "Montchevré" Goat Cheese with Oven Roasted Tomatoes and Black Olive Crisps
paired with Victory Helios Ale
Along with the later meat course, this course seemed most clearly to epitomize Brandt-Lee's approach to cooking simple, rustic dishes that combine a lack of fussiness with a focus on rich flavors and quality ingredients. Francophile that I am, at least when it comes to wine and cheese, I was a bit surprised that Mignucci selected an American goat cheese, from Wisconsin producer Montchevré. No matter, though, it worked just fine.

Here, Covaleski eschewed the typical pairing of wheat beer with goat's milk cheese in favor of the wilder, grassier flavors of his Saison-style Helios Ale. Helios undergoes both its primary and in-bottle fermentations using a select strain of Brettanomyces yeast, one that brings on subtle earthiness rather than imparting intense funk or sourness. A great match, particularly given the zestiness the black olive tapenade brought to the dish.



Escargot with Caramelized Onion and "Sur Choix" Cheese Agnolotti
paired with Victory St. Victorious Doppelbock
Is it just me or are snails one of those things you just don't think of cooking at home? Assuming you're not going out to forage for them, they're actually simple enough to prepare, yet I only seem to eat them in restaurants. Of course, the same habit tends to apply to hand-rolled and hand-stuffed pasta.... So there you have it, the dish I'd most like to eat on a regular basis but am least likely to prepare for myself.

For the cheesy component of this course, Emilio and John chose another US-produced take on a European classic. "Sur Choix" is a Wisconsin-made Gruyere-type cow's milk cheese that provided a nutty, fondue-like, belly warming touch that worked quite nicely with the snails. Escargots don't exactly scream out for cheese, so Mignucci treaded carefully, being sure to choose a cheese that was cave-aged for its inherently musty, earthy flavor profile.

St. Victorious Doppelbock is a limited production, seasonal dark lager, brewed in the tradition of German monastic brewers who made similarly hearty styles of beer to drink during their periods of fasting. It's produced using a labor-intensive technique called decoction mashing, in which the malt is boiled to the point that the barley kernels explode, giving a robust breadiness to the finished beer.

Brandt-Lee is very excited about the new addition of a chef's table immediately in front of the partially open kitchen at Avalon. The table, which seats up to six, was custom built for the space by the craftspeople at Philadelphia Block and Board, who also produce the cheese boards used at the restaurant.

"Baltic Thunder" Braised Beef Short Ribs, Blu di Pecora Polenta
paired with Victory Baltic Thunder
Given the event's theme, it could be argued that this was the most complete course of the night, both beer and cheese playing integral roles to the overall execution of the dish. It was also just right for a cold, rainy night -- very soul-satisfying.

I'm not a huge fan of the all too ubiquitous pairing of beef and blue cheese, as particularly pungent blue can easily steal the thunder from the meat, which really should provide a dish with its main focus, whether grilled or braised. I get the sense that John and Emilio may feel the same way. They intentionally selected a particularly mild example of Blu di Pecora, a sheep's milk blue from a Gorgonzola producer in Lombardy, for subtle blending with the creamy polenta that served as backdrop to Brandt-Lee's succulent beer-braised ribs.

Baltic Thunder is a rich, British-inspired porter, very sweet and malty with a loamy richness to its palate attack. Its dry, slightly bitter finish, provided by malt tannins rather than hops according to Covaleski, helped to balance the beer's richness and, in turn, provided the backbone necessary to stand up to the richness of braised short ribs.



Intermezzo: Rooibos Tea "Sphere"
The chef's quick nod to molecular gastronomy in the form of a palate cleanser: refreshingly herbal rooibos tea, bound into spherical gel form using agar-agar and brightened up with a few shavings of lemon zest. If this is destined for regular appearances at Avalon, flat-bottomed Japanese-style soup spoons would make for a worthwhile investment.



Cheese Board: Délice de Bourgogne and Pecorino Toscano
paired with Victory Golden Monkey
If simplicity was the overriding theme on the evening, Emilio captured it with his cheese course. Two cheeses with minimal adornments, each with plenty of personality. Most of the Delice de Bourgogne I've found on the local market has been young, milky, decadently creamy but extremely mild. This example had obviously been aged a bit longer, yielding a salty, intense flavor at the rind and a runny, unctuous pate; not advanced to the point of ammonia development but really full-flavored. The Pecorino, on the other hand, was deep, nutty and eminently satisfying, the kind of cheese you could sit back and eat way too much of. Chef John's housemade mostarda provided a welcome kick without packing overpowering mustard heat.


The starring libations, in order of appearance.
The final beer? Victory Golden Monkey, a Belgian-style strong golden ale. Golden Monkey's balance between an herbaceous, floral front-palate (coriander is used in the brew) and lingering, subtle sweetness made for a very cheese-friendly libation. It worked in much the same way as a demi-sec Vouvray, one of my preferred wine choices for the end-of-meal cheese course, with the role of Vouvray's natural high acidity replaced by the beer's gentle edge of bitterness.

The final verdict? A very enjoyable evening. I'll need to check out Avalon on a "normal" night sooner rather than later. And I'm already looking forward to round two of the Victory/DiBruno's mash-up, hopefully with wine adding a third element on the next occasion.

Avalon
312 S. High Street
West Chester, PA 19382
(610) 436-4100

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Jolly Pumpkin's Oro de Calabaza: More (Slightly Less) Sour Ale and the Question of Natural Beer

It's not often that I send text messages. I'm definitely a late adopter when it comes to alternatives to actually looking someone in the eye and having a real conversation. Heck, I barely even knew what a blog was until I started writing this one.... It's even rarer that I stop midway through a meal or a glass of wine or beer to text someone about it, but that's exactly what I did a couple of nights ago.

My wife and I were hanging out with friends at Teresa's Next Door in Wayne, PA, one of the great bastions of beer in the Philly burbs. (Actually, their wine list is pretty respectable, too, but that's perhaps a story for another day.) Started out with Cantillon's Lou Pepe Kriek on draft then moved from tart to bitter with a pint of Racer 5 IPA, pulled from the beer engine. As tasty as they both were, it was the next beer that really fired on all cylinders: Oro de Calabaza from Dexter, Michigan's Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales. I've really enjoyed everything I've tried from Jolly Pumpkin but this bottle took it to another level. Hazy, pale gold in the glass; slightly funky, slightly sour, just enough richness, redolent of honeysuckles (my friend Pete nailed it) and showing a subtle oak influence. Really well balanced. A complete, beautiful, killer beer.

Oro de Calabaza is a strong golden ale made in the bière de garde tradition. At 8% alcohol, it's not a session beer (JP makes their Bam Bière for that), more a beer to sit and contemplate AND to unabashedly enjoy. Like all of Jolly Pumpkin's brews, it's fermented in open vats, availing itself at least partially of naturally occurring wild yeasts, aged in old oak casks and then bottle conditioned before release. This bottle was from "Batch 409."

Drinking it, I was reminded of a question my friend Cory Cartwright had casually asked in a recent post at his blog, Saignée: "What are some good natural beers? Any non-Belgian stuff you’re digging (because everyone will say Belgian)?" I was inclined to answer right away with, "Jolly Pumpkin. Try anything they brew." Instead, I ended up texting him, mid-meal and mid-beer, about a week later. He probably thought I was nuts but, hey, I was inspired.

Aside from a less immediate sense of inspiration, the reason I hadn't responded to Cory's question sooner is that it raised, for me, much larger questions. Questions that I've been pondering ever since.

What is natural beer? And is there even such a thing?

I don't think the exact same parameters used to describe natural wine can be applied, because beer making is perforce a more manipulative endeavor than wine making. Are we simply talking about spontaneous, wild yeast fermentation or should the answer go beyond that to include farming and overall production techniques?

I'm not sure I have a clear answer to these questions. But I'd be happy to hear yours.

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Two Kinds of Sour: Cuvée De Ranke

Much like my friend Joe at Old World Old School, who included drinking more beer and paying more attention to it among his resolutions for the New Year, I've been meaning to write about beer here at MFWT at least a little more often for some time now. It's the paying attention part that really clicked with me, as beer already slots in pretty regularly to my eating and drinking routines. There was a major focus on beer during the course of my posse's pub crawling activities last weekend. One of our stops, in particular, provided plenty to contemplate, though we of course never lost sight of pursuing the pleasure principle.

In a city increasingly populated with great beer-centric bars and restaurants (if only wine would catch up...), we still couldn't pass up a visit to that holy grail of all brews Belgian: Monk's Cafe. Having set the stage with a thirst quenching bottle of Cantillon Gueuze and a follow-up with Lost Abbey's Red Barn Ale, our server, Jill, didn't hesitate one second when I asked her what I should try next. "Cuvée De Ranke." Cantillon, I do love you; and Lost Abbey, I like you well enough, though I'm still getting to know you. But Jill nailed it, for on this day it was the Cuvée De Ranke that most captured my attention and most delivered on the principles of pleasure. With an ever so slightly sweet, more so sour center akin to better known Flemish Sour Ales, followed up by a funky, tart sneak-attack à la spontaneously fermented Gueuze, and finished off with a refreshing hint of hoppy bitterness, the De Ranke was a very complete, primordially satisfying brew.

Ex post-facto research reveals that my gut reactions to the beer were more accurate than I could have expected. "Cuvée," it turns out, actually is a blend of two styles of Belgian sour beer. About 70% of the blend is a red/brown sour ale brewed by De Ranke in the tradition of the Roeselare/Kortrijk/Oudenaarde regions, top-fermented using Rodenbach (perhaps the most famous Flemish sour producer) yeast strains. The other 30% of the blend is actually lambic, which De Ranke purchases from Brouwerij Girardin. After blending, the beer is bottle-matured before release. According to De Ranke, it is capable of mid-term aging. It didn't stand much of a chance of that on our table, though.

De Ranke is brought into the US by one of my favorite beer importers, Shelton Brothers; you'll find more information about their beers at the Sheltons' site as well as at De Ranke's homepage.

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Delaware Shore Report: Fins Fish House & Raw Bar

Today's post takes us all the way back to mid-October when my wife and I made our third annual autumn pilgrimage to the Delaware shore. This year's trip falling hot on the heels of our adventures in NorCal, we cut things back from a full week to a long weekend. And this year, for the first time, the weather gods did not smile upon us. In three days, the torrential rain let up only once for all of about ninety minutes, just long enough to get the boys out for a quick jaunt on what was left of the storm-battered beach.

Now that we've had our first snow here in the Mid-Atlantic – just enough to coat the landscape with a thin layer of crunchy white icing – it's about time I get to today's topic before it gets any further out of season. Then again, now that we've entered the heart of oyster season, perhaps this is actually prime time to be trotting out a quick write-up of Fins Fish House & Raw Bar.

We had little in the way of expectations walking into Fins. The name hinted at potential cheesiness. But Fins had been recommended by friends and we were both in the mood for a change from our usual Dogfish Head fallback, so we decided to give it a whirl. Happily, our lunch at Fins was not only surprisingly good but turned out to be the gustatory highlight of our rain-soaked trip.

The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of locals slurping down pints and bivalves at the nautically themed ground floor bar was certainly a good sign, even if it did take a few minutes for a staff member to direct us to the more spacious upper floor bar and dining room.


Upstairs, the decor shifts from the nautical blue of the ground floor bar and dining rooms to an amalgam of British pub and American tschotschke.


Coniston Bluebird Bitter: one of my favorite session beers and one of the best values on Fins' impressive beer list.
A quick scan of Fins' wine list continued to build upon our feeling that we'd come to the right place. Though populated mostly by the typical beach town commercial offerings, it's one of the few lists I've yet to come across at the DE shore that actually included a couple of wines I'd like to drink — Albert Mann Pinot Blanc and Vouvray from Domaine des Aubuisières — as opposed to bottles I could only settle on and suffer through. The real decider, though, was the beer list. Sure, there's the ubiquitous Coors Light and Yuengling happy hour special and the de rigueur offerings of Corona and Amstel Light but, beyond that, someone at Fins clearly knows and loves their brews. Their constantly rotating draft selection is anchored by a well chosen if slightly hop-skewed bottle list, which eschews the local powerhouse (Dogfish Head is practically right across the street, after all) in favor of bottlings from some of America's top craft brewers, all backed up by a pretty solid selection of British and Belgian imports.



What about the food, you ask? As with the beer program, I was pleased to find that it far outperformed my usual expectations of shore town pub grub. My wife's seafood chowder starter was supremely satisfying, just the thing to melt away the rainy day chill in the bones and a dish I'd love to try to replicate by the cauldron-full at home. Opting for oysters, I was initially put off by the minimum order of three of any one type, as a single serving of each of the six varieties on the day's board would have been just right. The two types that I settled on, though, were in prime shape, well shucked and went down easy with a pint of Rogue's Dead Guy Ale.

I continued the oyster theme, selecting a po'boy as my main course. With the oysters fried to a crispy, crunchy exterior yet still perfectly tender and juicy inside, the sandwich paled to its New Orleans cousin only via a near second place in the condiment department. The wife scored again, with a perfectly cooked and seasoned Mahi Mahi fish sandwich. Now, when that fish sandwich hankering calls, I need only drive the two hours south to Rehoboth rather than make the trip all the way to The Fish House in Key Largo.

Rain or shine, between Fins and Dogfish Head, I've definitely found my favorite block of Rehoboth Beach.

FINS Fish House & Raw Bar
243 Rehoboth Avenue
Rehoboth Beach, DE 19971
(302) 226-3467

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Lambic Comes Ashore

In response to my recent write-up of an unblended Lambic tasting, big Joe M. asked about the existence of Lambics brewed right here in the US, most particularly on the East Coast. Quite frankly, I couldn’t answer him. Luckily, someone else could. Joe’s question led to an informative comment from Jon Webster of Slake Thy Thirst that I thought was worth bringing up to the front page.

There are certainly a handful of adventurous brewers spread around the States that are running wild yeast fermentations and aging their beers in wood. However, it appears that Maine’s Allagash Brewing Company may be the first American brewery to try their hand at crafting a true Lambic, a project they began late last year. They’ve even posted a video that details production of their first batch.



Its main appeal may be to the serious beer geek. Even if that’s not you, though, it’s worth a watch. (If you’re reading this via subscription, you may need to click through to the blog itself to view the video.) At the very least, it’s always good to be reminded that YouTube can be good for something besides music. And stupid skateboard stunts.

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Lambic Blending 101

I missed the big event. On Wednesday, August 20, Don Feinberg, co-founder of New York State’s Brewery Ommegang and co-owner of Vanberg & DeWulf imports, presided over an informal seminar on lambic blending at Tria’s 12th & Spruce Street location, here in downtown Philly. Don had procured two rare kegs of unblended lambic ales from Brouwerij Boon and was visiting Tria to share their goodness with all comers as well as to discuss the ins and outs of lambic production and blending techniques.

If you missed the event too, it’s not too late, at least not yet, to partake of the beers. I did just that earlier this week, as I headed over to Tria – they call it their Washington Square West location – after wrapping up the course on sparkling wines I’d taught at Tria Fermentation School on Tuesday night.

One of the cask aging rooms at Brouwerij Boon.
As long as the kegs hold out, they'll be serving five-ounce pours of two different unblended, aged Boon lambics. The pair will set you back $12. Each is served in Belgian ale tulips and you’ll also be provided with an empty wine glass. While both ales are intriguing on their own, the real fun comes in playing around with crafting your own blended lambic.

The beer from Cask 17B is the paler of the two – the color of old cider – and iridescently cloudy in the glass. It’s tangy, showing plenty of the characteristically sour notes of unsweetened lambics, mildly lactic and loaded with citrus oil and light spice flavors. There’s also plenty of funk on the nose. It’s definitely the wilder, higher-toned and winier of the two beers. I couldn’t help but be reminded, as I have been in the past with a beer from one of Boon’s peers, of old-school Loire Chenin Blanc.

The pour from Cask 52 – the glasses are labeled to avoid mix-ups – is noticeably darker and more tranquil than that from 17B. As its color suggests, it’s richer on the palate and also rounder, mellower and far less sour. The wood influence seems more pronounced, both in a slight oxidative character and in the brew’s nutty, malty and somewhat caramelized flavor profile. Kind of like an Amontillado Sherry with a funky streak. My table mates gave this the nod as their stand-alone preference, though I leaned a little more toward the brighter flavors of Cask 17B.

Master blender Frank Boon, tasting a sample from Cask 17B.
Having tasted and considered both lambics, it was blending time. With only five ounces of each beer and no measuring equipment, you can only get so crazy with experimenting. I opted, more or less automatically, to go with just three basic recipes: half-and-half, one-third/two-thirds and two-thirds/one-third. It seemed to make sense. Besides, I was there to have fun and relax, not to play scientist or brewmaster. Still, the results were illuminating.

A fifty-fifty blend of the two ales kind of fell flat. It wasn’t entirely bad, just unexciting. The flavors became sort of muddy, the individual highlights were lost but the melding didn’t bring anything extra to the table.

Mixing one third Cask 52 with two-thirds Cask 17B didn’t fare much better. It seemed like the two beers were too busy fighting each other instead of working together. The end result was disjointed and kind of cheesy tasting – washed rind, that is.

I had actually started out with two-thirds Cask 52 and one-third 17B. As luck or intuition would have it, this turned out to be my favorite blend of the night, an opinion shared this time by my drinking buddies. 17B seemed to deliver the high notes that 52 lacked on its own while the greater depth and richness of 52 rounded everything out. It seemed complete. A blended lambic I’d be happy to drink again as a finished, marketed product. And a fun tasting, even without Mr. Feinberg there as a tour guide.

You can read Mr. Boon's technical notes on the two lambics after the jump.
Boon Lambic Cask 17B (Belgium · 7.9% at time of kegging)
Cask 17B was made of winter oak in the 1930’s and was polished inside before filling. It was filled with two brews #O71 and #O72 from February 17 and 18, 2004. The Lambic has notes of cloves, vanilla and whisky from the wood cask. The abundant lactic acid from the young beer was converted into esters (aromas) to create a typical citrus-muscat bouquet. Tannins from the oak and bitterness from the aged hops complete this wonderful Lambic.

Boon Lambic Cask 52 (Belgium · 8.6% at time of kegging)
Cask 52 is an oval cask, made of winter oak in 1961 and was half polished inside before filling. It was filled with two brews, #O27 and #O28 from November 5 and 6, 2003. The Lambic of this cask has balanced acidity and is more complex than 17B. Lactic acid from the young beer was converted into esters (aromas) but the citrus-muscat is enhanced by the volatile acid. The Lambic has slight bitterness from aged hops and light tannins from the oak. Whisky and vanilla notes linger on the finish.

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Sly Fox versus The World

Few things in life are as disappointing as stale beer. Luckily, the only thing running the risk of becoming stale in the context of the recent Sly Fox dinner at Chick’s Café is this here write-up, which is finally seeing the light of day over two weeks after the fact. In this case, I’d like to think of it more as aged and considered.

Sly Fox brewmaster, Brian O'Reilly.
Jonny Medlinsky, beer meister and event coordinator at Chick’s, has been putting on a really swell series of beer and beverage tastings over the last year. The latest rendition, held on Tuesday, June 24, featured guest speaker Brian O’Reilly, brewmaster at Phoenixville, PA’s Sly Fox Brewery. Brian’s initial take when approached with Jonny’s idea for the class was one of trepidation. Sly Fox versus the world? A daunting proposal to be sure, one that he eventually embraced in coming up with his final presentation – “Inspirations and Interpretations of Sly Fox” – in which his own brews were matched up with their old world forebears.

The great thing about comparative tastings like this, at least when the urge to make it a competitive tasting is repressed, is the educational opportunity afforded to the attendees. Call it palate training, if you will. Of course, when the brewer behind one of the lineups is at the helm, there’s always the possibility of a favorable showing. As an added bonus, each round was paired with a dish prepared by Chick’s Chef, Jim Piano. Here’s what was served.

• Aperitif: Sly Fox Grisette
  Poured solo. This is O’Reilly’s take on a rather obscure style of French farmhouse ale brewed especially as an end of day refresher for the miners (as opposed to the farmers) in France’s Hainaut Province. Peppery, lightly spicy, bright and refreshing.
  
  
• Round One: Sly Fox Saison Vos and Brasserie Dupont Saison Dupont (Belgium)
  If you read this blog with any frequency, you already know that I tend to be and old world guy, so it’s not meant lightly when I say that this was the only match up of the evening where I felt that the old world wine came out on top. When it comes to farmhouse ales, I want there to be a little wild, funky character, something that Dupont’s Saison delivers along with citrusy, lively flavors and a spicy yeast influence. Sly Fox Vos was tasty but just a little too squeaky clean in the context of Saison. These were matched up with a selection of cheeses and a few slices of salami from Agrumi Artisan Meats (made by Mario Batali’s father). One of the most successful food pairings of the night.
  
  Adam Gertler, former co-owner of Philly's The Smoked Joint (now defunct) and cast member of The Next Food Network Star, made a guest appearance to demonstrate his recipe for smoked beef short ribs.
  
• Round Two: Sly Fox Pikeland Pils and Jever Pils (Germany)
  Both true to type and both delicious, the Sly Fox entry was light and assertively dry, Jever’s more assertively hoppy with a resulting bitter snap on the finish. I’d put this one in the draw category, adding only that I really enjoyed the Pikeland Pils. (Now to go shopping for a case.) Sly Fox is one of the craft brewing world’s current first and foremost adopters of the lined aluminum can; their Pils was poured from 12 ounce cans. Neither was quite up to the task of marrying with the assertive, Omega-3 driven flavors of pan-seared mackerel, though I’d give the edge to Jever Pils in the context of the food pairing.
  
  
• Round Three: Sly Fox Royal Weisse and Schneider Weisse Original (Germany)
  Because of the importance of wheat to baking and bread making, it was once illegal for anyone in Germany, aside from members of the royal family, to brew wheat bear. Sly Fox’s Royal Weisse is named in homage to that thankfully distant memory. Both it and the Schneider Weisse are brewed in a traditional style, with sweeter, darker malts relative to today’s more common trend toward pale, light, add-a-lemon wheat beers. Both very complete beers, surprisingly fruity in aroma. Solid pairing with a duck confit salad.
  
  Gertler did a little guest cheffing as well. Adam's ribs, served with the Irish stouts in Round Four, were parched but intensely smoky.
  
• Round Four: Sly Fox O’Reilly Stout and Guinness Stout (Ireland)
  Dry Irish Stout – Guinness is certainly the banner example – is one of those beverages that often leads one’s eyes to fool one’s palate. People have been conditioned to automatically think sweet when they see rosé wine. Likewise, people see black stout and expect richness and heaviness. That power of suggestion makes many continue to believe what their eyes told them even after tasting. The thing is, stouts done in this style, though dark in color and flavor, are actually quite light in body and, counter-intuitively, low in alcohol. (Ever wonder why you can drink Guinness all night?) As pleasing as a properly poured pint of Guinness can be, O’Reilly Stout delivered a more complex and compelling nose, driven by roasted barley, and finished on a crisper, higher note. Good stuff. Regrettably, both were way under-matched to the powerful flavor of smoked beef short ribs, where a porter or India brown ale would have been a better choice.
  
  
• Round Five: Sly Fox Ichor (2005 & 2007) and St. Bernardus 12 (Belgium)
  Sly Fox’s Ichor is an Abbot style Quadruple ale. The 2005, the first year in which Ichor was bottled, had developed very winy, port-like aromas along with a sweetness and depth which made for pretty hedonistic enjoyment. As good as it was, the 2007 was more finely attenuated and better balanced. The 2007 may not age as well as the 2005, as it lacks the preserving sweetness of it its older sibling, but it was the best of the three beers. Absolutely dead-on with a chocolate banana ganache tart with caramelized bananas. For me, it was the match of the night. The St. Bernardus was jaundiced in comparison, though I’m not sure it was a pristine bottle.

Suzie Woods, brand ambassador for Sly Fox and Beer Lass blogger, poured Sly Fox's Renard d'Or, a Belgian style golden ale, from Jeroboam. Only 200 bottles were produced.
If you’re in the Philly area and up for a taste, Sly Fox operates brewpubs in both Phoenixville and Royersford, PA. If you’d like to be informed of future tastings at Chick’s, just send an e-mail to chickscafe (at) gmail dot com and let them know you learned about them here.

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