July 7, 2009

Six New Brews for an Easy Summer Evening

Summertime, and the living is easy.

Or so the song goes. Nothing these days seems all that easy, that’s for sure. Not, at least, from what I can see, looking up from the bottom of my well.

But things don’t have to be so hard this time of year, either. Take, for instance, the search for the right beer to pair with warm-weather fare — like frankfurters or a fish fillet, cooked over an open flame — or warm-weather fun, like sitting around a bonfire on the beach at sunset. This kind of endeavor is worth breaking a sweat over, for sure, but it’s not necessary to do so. There are so many choices available to the discriminating beer-hunter, in a wide range of styles and flavors, that getting it right should be easy. And it is.

A few suggestions for making your summertime living a little easier.

A few suggestions for making your summertime living a little easier.

So, with summer finally in full swing, I thought I’d take a moment to assemble a mix-a-six’s worth of seasonals and suggest some appropriate food pairings. This is not an official tasting (if there ever is such a thing), just a report on some beers I’ve enjoyed recently and served with dinner to guests. Some of these are brand new, others are just new-to-me brews. One or two won’t fit neatly into a particular category — or even a cardboard carrier. Nonetheless, I liked them enough that I wanted to point them out to you, dear reader, on the off chance that you might need help filling a cooler to take on an afternoon outing or an extended vacation. I am planning to pack several of these with me this week and next. Enjoy!

Summer Beer, Anchor Brewing Company. Labeled as “the first American wheat beer in modern times,” this 25-year-old beverage achieves its light and refreshing quality because it’s fermented with an American top-fermenting “ale” yeast (rather than a more traditional bottom-dwelling German strain), and that emphasizes the all-malt flavors, derived from wheat and barley grains. In other words, it’s a thirst-quencher — crisp, clean, dry, a little sweet and plenty hoppy, with a rush of carbonation and a slightly bitter finish. It’s designed for cooling off on a typically hot summer day or pairing with some typical buttery summery foods, like corn on the cob or steamed lobster. I enjoyed a glassful with a plate of fresh zucchini sauteed with tomatoes and served over vermicelli with feta cheese.

Kellerweis Hefeweizen, Sierra Nevada Brewing Company. This expanding brewery has reportedly replaced its rather limpid American hefeweizen with a punched-up, more complex Bavarian year-round brew. Using a traditional open fermentation process, which involves no filtration or pasteurization, the innovative Chico, California-based brewmaster has created a billowy, zesty, wild wheat beer perfect for summer fare. The fruity flavors (there are hints of bananas and citrus) and spicy undertones make it an ideal accompaniment to everything from light starters, like chips and mango salsa, to grilled shrimp and freshly baked blueberry pie (that’s how I drank mine). Best of all, with the yeast still in the bottle — the label even includes serving instructions — you can pour out a hazy, golden beer to match any summer sunset.

Squall IPA, Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. At first glance, it appeared that this Delaware-based brewery had simply rechristened its standard 90-minute India Pale Ale as a limited-quantity release, sold in a Champagne bottle with an old-timey seafaring motif on the label. Not surprising, though, this is not just a matter of repackaging — the self-styled makers of “off-centered” beers have all sails set on this one, dropping everything in “unfiltered, unfettered, and unprecedented.” The result of this new tack? A blustery (9% alcohol) bottle-conditioned, imperial-style IPA, dry-hopped with a half-dozen types of hops (most beers get 2-3), full of malty-sweet flavors, refreshing bitterness, and lots of palate-cleansing bubbles. We downed two bottles while eating grilled cheeseburgers on the 4th — and were blown away, left wanting more.

Mama’s Little Yella Pils, Oskar Blues Brewery. The newest addition to the creative Colorado-based brewery’s growing collection of popular fine canned beer, this pilsner would be a standout on its own. It’s got all the trappings of a traditional Czech-style pilsner — a beautiful straw (aka, “yella”) color, a balanced dose of hops aromas and bitterness, and a slightly sweet, dry flavor. Nonetheless there’s a uniquely American, bold, canned-by-hand quality to it, as well. (Watch a video about their innovative canning process here.) I thought it went well with just about everything, from starters to finishers, but I especially enjoyed it with a grilled Ball Park Frank, some spicy brown mustard, and a fresh, biscuity bun. I would prescribe this combination to anyone.

Saranac Summer Brew: Lager and Lemonade, Matt Brewing Company. According to the label, it’s a European tradition to mix lemonade with and beer to create “a refreshing beverage during the summer months.” Tradition or not, I didn’t find the mixture very appealing — mainly because I’m not a fan of fruit-flavored beers. But I was in the minority opinion among my dinner guests, several of whom took the label’s words at face value: to “kick back, relax, and enjoy.” Which is easy to do with this brew, because it’s so low in alcohol (3.5%). Although I didn’t think it held up well against the heavy grilled meats, I’d bet this beer is better suited to lemon-marinated chicken, lightly grilled light fish (such as marinated tilapia), or salads with a vinegar-based dressing.

Sixteen Saison, Avery Brewing Company. To celebrate its “Sweet 16th,” the Boulder-based brewery has cooked up an anniversary ale featuring a unique combination of sweet ingredients, including jasmine, peaches, honey, and Belgian candy sugar. Based on a traditional hearty beer style brewed in Belgium’s farm country, but infused with some American moxie, the result is an almost-saison — a bold beer that pours out cloudy-blond, with lots of frothy foam, hoppy floral notes, and a nice balance of fruit and spices. It’s surprisingly less sweet than expected, slightly tart and dry, assertive, tasty, and drinkable. I would pair this with something light and savory, like Mediterranean chicken salad, or slightly richer, such as grilled salmon steaks with lemon butter — and let the fruit flavors in the beer and foods mingle like teenagers.

So, there you have it, six different summer brews, and their matching foods, all packed up and ready to go on vacation with you. See, wasn’t that easy?

As always, let us know what you think. Have you tried any of this year’s new summer beers? If so, which ones do you like? Or are there other styles or flavors that you prefer with your summer meals? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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June 30, 2009

Patriots of the Caribbean: Tasting Rum and Honoring America’s True Spirit

Recently I have learned, from several sources, that rum may be the oldest and most American of beverages. Although the Pilgrims considered beer the drink of choice for their little “Gilligan’s Island” adventure — water apparently spoiled faster on board The Mayflower than did the alcohol-based drinks — the spirit that puts the “oh” in a Mojito was flowing over these shores long before anyone landed on Plymouth Rock.

Awhile back I picked up a book at the library called, And a Bottle of Rum: A History of the New World in Ten Cocktails — really, how could I resist? (And, if you can’t resist either, you can now peruse it online, as I did, here.) According to author Wayne Curtis, Christopher Columbus introduced sugar cane to the West Indies from the Canary Islands, and it was the slaves on the Caribbean plantations who eventually discovered that the byproduct of that plant — a.k.a. molasses — could be fermented into alcohol. Rum soon became the easiest to make and most accessible of drinks on the islands and eventually contributed to the settlement of the mainland colonies. As Curtis writes, “Rum is the history of America in a glass.”

Six All-Americans for a rummy 4th

Six All-Americans for a rummy 4th of July

More recently I received a packet of information, along with two small bottles, from a PR agent representing Tommy Bahama brand rum, expounding on the history of rum and and how it has helped shape the Republic as we know it. For instance, she says, Paul Revere took a swallow of rum before setting off on his famous midnight ride. Ben Franklin wrote an ode to rum punch. And George Washington celebrated July 4th in 1778 by offering his troops a double ration and a military salute. A Yankee Doodle doozy, indeed.

However, Curtis says the rum that the Founding Fathers would have poured was nothing like the smooth, sweet-smelling concoction that comes in tall, elegant bottles sold in America today. The old-fashioned rum was “made with a crude pot still” that produced a  “cloying, greasy, nasty-smelling stuff … laden with impurities, and could have been whiffed a block away.” Luckily, distilling technology continued to evolve over the past two-plus centuries, and rum continued to grow in popularity and is reportedly now the second largest spirits category behind vodka.

So the rediscovery of the book, the arrival of the free American-made rum (and accompanying factoids), and the pending Independence Day festivities all combined to convince me that this week I should review the byproducts of some native distilleries as an act of patriotism. (Last year I did my patriotic duty by writing about American-themed beers.) After doing a little research, I was surprised to discover how many American companies now make and market rum, given that the drink was invented by Europeans somewhere outside the continental United States. The “Wine Compass Blog” provides a thorough overview of the subject (available here).

Admittedly, this week’s tasting was somewhat impromptu (sadly, a growing trend for the busy Scribbleskiff staff) and involved only my brother-in-law, Steve, mainly because he contributed a bottle of handcrafted rum from the Dogfish Head brewery and was available on short notice. Also, despite the proliferation of republican rums, very few are readily available, at least where I roam. In total we tasted a half-dozen rums, dark and light — basically what I could find on the shelves of a couple of shops. It’s definitely a mixed bag of properties, personalities, and pedigrees — just like any good, red-blooded American, really.

We only had one other tasting restriction: independence. Despite the popularity of mixing rum with fruit juices, colas, or other soft drinks, I believe the best way to enjoy the flavor and quality of this particular liquor is to serve it unadorned in a glass, with a few cubes of ice and a wedge of lime. (Of course, I have been known to pour a Dark & Stormy or two, but that’s a different story entirely.) So we tried each rum with and without the juice and made only one cocktail — the distinctive Bahama Basil Smash, which calls for white rum, basil leaves, ginger, a few blackberries, lemon, and a little elbow-greased muddling.

Here are the fruits of our labor. Enjoy!

Golden Sun and White Sand, Tommy Bahama Rum. Introduced in 2007, these so-called “ultra-premium” rums are produced for the Seattle-based manufacturer by the R. L. Seale Distillery in Barbados using local ingredients, including blackstrap molasses and water filtered through coral stone. According to the press packet, both rums are fermented using yeast imported from the wine region of South Africa, aged at least two years in white oak barrels, and do not contain added sugar or artificial blenders. I preferred the Golden Sun, the darker of the pair. It pours out in an appealing amber color and is a bit sweeter than the white. Steve said he noticed a bourbon-like aroma and thought it tasted slightly fruity with hints of vanilla and roasted caramel. However, he preferred the white, saying it was smoother and cleaner than its sibling and liked it better with a splash of lime. But we both agreed that neither rum made for a particularly good solo sipper and would be better suited for mixing (a theorem we proved with the creation of the aforementioned Smash).

Pirates of the Chesapeake, Atlantic Distillers Company. I have to admit that I picked this rum nearly exclusively because of the local ties — for instance, the sparse label read  “Bottled in Baltimore” — and the fact that it cost $5.99 for a 750 ml bottle. And you know, sometimes you really do get what you pay for. I tried valiantly to enjoy this on the rocks, first adding liberal amounts of lime juice then letting the ice melt some, creating a delusion of dilution. All to no avail. After a few swigs the phrase “White Lightning” popped into my mind, and neither Steve nor I could sip it with a smile on our face. Even the parrot on the label looks disgusted by what his bandanna-clad master is serving. Because it’s nearly flavorless, this rum would mix well with just about anything and still produce the desired sun-over-the-yardarm effect that any old salt seeks.

Sailor Jerry Spiced Navy Rum, Sailor Jerry Rum Co. Reportedly made from the personal recipe of “Sailor Jerry” Collins, a famous Honolulu-based tattoo artist from the 1930s, this musclebound rum (92 proof!) is quite tasty and a little exotic all by itself in the glass. The label says it’s “spiced with a hint of cherry,” though I thought the overriding flavors were more like cinnamon and vanilla. Steve, being a loyal Irishman, said this was his favorite, declaring it “better than Captain Morgan’s” and praising the rum’s delicate balance of sweetness and a “musty, smoky aftertaste” that reminded him of “the feeling you get when you’ve breathed in too much ink at the tattoo parlor.” And I totally agreed. (Keep in mind that this was rum number four and we were feeling a little “poetic” by this point.)

Brown Honey Rum, Dogfish Head Brewery. Several years ago, I was delighted (though not surprised) to discover, while ordering cocktails before dining at this Delaware-based brewery’s restaurant in Rehoboth Beach, that the maker of one of the most delicious (and one of my most favorite) American IPAs was capable of producing such a flavorful and drinkable non-beer drink. Several microbreweries, in fact, including Rogue and New Holland Brewing Company, have begun experimenting with “micro-rum” and other such small-batch spirits. But the Brown Honey was the first one I tried and it quickly became, and has remained, my preferred sipping rum — when I could find (and afford) it. According to the label, the rum is made with wildflower honey (applied liberally, it seems, just like the hops in their beer) in an old-fashioned pot still, double-filtered, and aged in oak barrels, which produces the dark amber color, smooth texture, and sweet flavors — we noted vanilla as well as caramel and some fruitiness. Neither Steve nor I could find fault with this pioneering spirit (and we tasted it several times, to be sure), and we both pledged to keep it independent of marauding mixers.

Whaler’s Vanille, Whaler’s Distilling Company. It’s hard to deny the American “melting pot” qualities of a drink that’s got Caribbean roots, is made using “Hawaii’s legendary recipe” (whatever that means), and bottled in Bardstown, Kentucky. And yet, with it’s odd product name (pronounced “vah-nee”) and cloying vanilla, candy-like flavors — it tasted like a Goetze’s Caramel Cream — it’s hard to believe this is rum. Steve and I both agreed that though the Vanille is just too overwhelming served solo on the rocks, it would mellow a little combined with something fruity — the label suggests a “Vanille Splash,” essentially adding a 1 oz. shot to half a glass of pineapple juice and a squeeze of lime.  And with the lowest alcohol content of the bunch (just 60 proof), that’s a recipe for producing a whale of a good time.

So, there you have it — six all-American variations on a classic West Indian drink. Not exactly the ideal companions for your 4th of July barbecue — reach for a lager or pale ale to fill that role — but an American tradition nonetheless. Perhaps you should consider handing your dinner guests a glass of rum before serving the meal, to fuel their passion for patriotic (and other) gestures. After all, as the influential foodie James Beard once said, “of all the spirits in your home, [rum] is the most romantic.” God bless America.

As always, let us know what you think. Do you have a favorite rum, American-made or otherwise? Are there other spirits you like on a summer night? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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June 23, 2009

When It Comes to Picking New Music, My Kids Are All Right

I’ve written a lot lately about sharing traditions with my children and delighting in their joy as they experience something new. But the more I’ve written, the more I’ve come to understand that, while it’s pleasurable to read them my favorite holiday bedtime stories, for instance, or pull out and play kitschy sing-a-long records from my childhood, it’s only about half the fun. That’s because what’s newfangled to them is old-hat to me. And after all, as science fiction author Spider Robinson says, “joy shared is joy increased.”

So I began to seek out some new traditions, ones that we could all enjoy equally. And that’s when I realized I’m already having that experience, at least when it comes to new music. The addition of several iPods to the household’s cache of audio equipment has led me to discover that my diminutive kinfolk get as excited — as fanatical, even — about the advent of a new song or band as I do. Sure, the old stuff, whether from last year or several years ago, is good and fun to listen to from time to time, and there’s plenty of it in our iTunes libraries. But the kids, like me, just love the unknown (as the guys in Clem Snide proselytize). Now, they’re not sadistic enough to start a weekly blog, mind you, but they certainly don’t refrain from broadcasting their tastes to their friends and relations. And that thrills me to the point of cliche.

It surprises me a little, too, though I’m not sure why. After all, when you expose young-uns to your own musical peccadilloes (especially at an impressionable age, when they don’t know they can rebel), you shouldn’t be shocked when they say, “Please, Dad, play more jazz!” Right? Still, they’re just kids. They should behave in more predictable ways. Or so I tell myself. And yet I shake my head when they ask to download my Arcade Fire collection (including the obscure live cuts with David Bowie) or begin to recognize patterns in music that even some adults don’t hear — for instance, my six-year-old can identify Peter Buck’s signature jangly guitar sound in songs by a host of REM-like bands.

Then again, who am I kidding? This is all pretty cool. I mean, it’s one thing to have your son’s eyes light up when you dust off and play your copy of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” or some other moldy-oldie you’ve listened to together many times on the radio. It’s quite another matter when he says, “Dad, what’s that song you just played?” — one so new to you that you can’t even tell him the name — and then he selects it over and over every time he gets his hands on your iPhone.

Perhaps the most thrilling moment of all occurred a few weeks ago, when I took my teenage daughter to her first “real concert,” as she put it. I lucked into two front-row seats at Merriweather Post Pavilion to see The Decemberists, along with Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3 and Andrew Bird, three bands that I adore and she is starting to discover. We gave her the tickets as a gift for graduating middle school, and I can’t decide which proved more rewarding — her response (which was to squeal, shout “Get out!” and shove me backwards, Elaine-like) or the fact that she likes the same amazing, obscure bands that I do. Either way, it was quite a night. We sat there, we two, nearly speechless, intensely listening through four hours of music, taking in every note, following all the stage antics, captivated by the lights and the sights and sounds — all the while texting our friends to brag, taking photos and posting them on Facebook, etc. Birds of a feather, for sure.

All of this is mere prelude to the crux of this week’s post (you knew I’d get there eventually): an offering of some of the songs (all new, of course) that I introduced to my kids and we have listened to, and bonded over, within the past year. Even better, they have adopted these songs as their own and are here recommending them to you, dear reader, complete with some personal commentary. Enjoy!

Anna’s Recommendations
It was no surprise to me that Anna, the romantic in the group, would be drawn to the music of The Decemberists. Their flair for the dramatic, oddball instrumentation, and delightfully liberal, lyrical excess are perfectly suited to the sensibilities of a kid who has devoured the entire Twilight series several times. In fact, their latest CD, The Hazards of Love (which I reviewed here, earlier this year) is a Gothic romance in 17 parts that tells the tale of hearts won and lost, with enough magic, intrigue, murder, and revenge to captivate even the most jaded teenager.

Anna says that, if you don’t want to buy the whole CD (though “you’d be crazy not to”), definitely download “The Rake’s Song” (which is “kinda creepy but fun to dance to”), as well as “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid” (which “rocks” and had us both belting out the chorus in concert), and “The  Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowning),” which Anna says (and I agree) is “one of their saddest and prettiest” compositions.

Will’s Recommendations
As a highly active tweenage boy, balancing the demands of school, sports teams, friends, family, books, and TV shows, Will has a surprisingly large capacity for music. Not only does he like to play it on his iPod (which is always nearby and nearly always on), he also likes to make music, starting with the guitar then moving to the electric bass in several lower-school rock bands. And, as I mentioned above, he’s always hitting me up for a new download: “Hey, Dad, can we put the new [Green Day, Coldplay, Kanye West, etc.] song on my iPod?” Cracks me up. Will also has an affinity for a great melody: that’s what seems to grab his attention first, and it’s the common thread that runs through his three picks.

  • Bound Stems, “Happens to Us All Otherwise,” Family Afloat. This is one that Will plays nearly every time we get together and put on music, and for good reason — the driving beat, chiming guitars, and soaring vocal harmonies are irresistible.
  • Andrew Bird, “Fitz and the Dizzyspells,” Noble Beast. Will says he loves listening to this song “because it’s calming.” And it is, which I think is a result of the syncopated drumming, droning guitars and sounds, and Bird’s charmingly goofy whistling that swirls and swoops just out of reach.
  • Army Navy, “Saints,” Army Navy. This is Will’s newfound fave because, as he put it, “the song has great lyrics and it’s catchy.” What more do you need to know?

Mary Charlotte’s Recommendations
She might be the youngest and smallest of the bunch, but Mary Charlotte has a love for dancing that’s as big as her name is long. In fact, she told me what she likes most is what I would term “soulful” and “funky” music. “Oh, and techno,” she added. She has a great sense of rhythm that, coupled with amazing body control and an unlimited energy supply, can keep us all entertained (and in stitches) for hours. She claims no one can listen to her selections and remain standing still.

  • Diane Birch, “Rise Up,” Bible Belt. I take full responsibility for this one. While reviewing the single a few weeks back, I wound up playing it over and over, to form an opinion. Fortunately, Mary Charlotte fell for it as hard as I did, and now she requests it weekly.
  • The Phenomenal Handclap Band, “You’ll Disappear,” The Phenomenal Handclap Band. To me, the name of the band is the name of the game. (Think of John Travolta and a long line of disco-ers.) To Mary Charlotte, it’s all about doing “The Robot,” especially the swinging arm move.
  • Buraka Som Sistema, “Sound of Kuduro,” Black Diamond. Just watching little MC dance to this song (she earns that nickname when she’s doing it) is a full-on workout. But when she comes “knocking at the door,” as M.I.A. sings in the chorus, I can’t resist joining her on the dance floor.

And I should add that my musical chauvinism has affected not only my own children but my in-law’s, as well. For example, a few weeks ago my 11-year-old nephew sent me a text from his phone (yeah, I know…) to say how great the new free song on iTunes was. Then, a few days later, after I failed to respond (yeah, I know…), he called me on his phone to remind me to check for his text — and to be sure I downloaded the song. “It’s excellent!” he insisted. So I did, and he was right. “Kids! Da-da-la-da, da-dum-dum-dum…” as my mother used to sing.

  • Parachute, “Under Control,” Losing Sleep. It’s a likable, piano-based power ballad that’s still available on iTunes but, alas, not for free.

So, there you have it, some Scribbleskiff “family togetherness” music. As always, let us know what you think. Did your parents influence your taste in music? Am I being too childish here? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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June 16, 2009

Staying Put in Port, for the Moment

Scribbleskiff is sitting in dry dock at the moment (sadly, though, not this one), for the first time in more than a year. We’re taking a little time to clear out the scuppers, so to speak, to restock supplies, and chart new courses. We’ve got our eyes fixed on the wave of new summer beers rolling in, for instance, as well as a beer “brewed especially for food” (can’t wait to find out what that means). There are also plenty of bands to encounter, sirening their songs along the way, and a concert or two to review, as well as new books worth discovering and some old ones to dig up and revisit. And much, much more.

So, we’ll be back next week with a fresh stock of aimless writing intended to distract you from your daily routine. Until then, here are a few of the most-read posts, in each category, from the past year. If you are a faithful reader, then you may enjoy having the chance to riffle through them again. If you have never read Scribbleskiff, then these will be new to you. Enjoy!

Beery Scribblings
Wines for Beer Drinkers
Want Good Beer? It’s in the Can!
Who Cares What the Calendar Says, It’s Time to ‘Drink’ Spring

Bookish Babble
So Little Poetry in Poetry
The Use of Used Bookstores
The Everyday Essentialness of Issa

Musical Musings
Indie Summer Songs
Songs to Play to Start Your Day
Infidels, Excess, and Howe: More Recollections from the Record Collection

So, there you have it. As always, let us know what you think. Do you have a favorite Scribbleskiff post? Or is there something new you want to read about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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June 10, 2009

Craft Beers Made by Italians? That’s Not a Mistake — That’s Amore!

Sometimes the least likely combination of ingredients can produce the most interesting results.

This is often the case with rock music — think Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, for example — or rocket fuel — a mixture of charcoal, sulfur, and saltpeter. Kept separate, these are all fairly benign materials; combined, however, they can yield beautiful, supersonic effects. (For instance, the former collaboration resulted in five Grammys, and the latter gave rise to firecrackers).

The seven craft beers of Italy

The seven craft beers of Italy

And such was the case with a beer tasting I attended last week. When Jed, my new-brews adviser at The Wine Source, invited me to an exclusive gathering to try Italian craft beers I was nonplussed, to say the least. Certainly, I was honored to be included and wanted to go, but I was skeptical, even a little apprehensive, about what I might encounter. I mean, who would put those words — “Italian” and “craft beer” — together in a sentence and think, “bellisimo”? It makes as much sense as, say, a tasting of “vintage Irish wines.”

There’s no disputing the fact that Italian culture is centered on a passion for great food and drink, produced from local ingredients. It forms the basis for what they call “la dolce vita,” or the sweet life. However, when I think of Italy, what comes to mind are a glass of earthy, dry red wine and a plate of noodles smothered in a zesty pasta sauce. When I think of craft beers, on the other hand, I imagine a bottle of earthy, hoppy IPA and a rack of ribs slathered in barbecue sauce. In fact, the only Italian beers I’ve ever had were the uber exports Peroni or Moretti, and they tend to be as uninspiring as their American mass-market counterparts.

But, you know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over this past year of tasting and tattling about beers and beer-food combos, it’s that I have to put aside my prejudices and keep an open mind. For instance, I never would have thought that pairing hard cider with Halloween candy would be so eerily delicious, or that Bavarian beers would prove to be such gracious hosts for a Chinese New Year celebration. So, I decided to act a bit non-nonplussed and test how “crafty” the Italians were. And, Mama mia! did that prove to be the right stuff.

And eye-opening, too. Upon arriving arriving at The Wine Source, I was ushered into a back room, where a few people had gathered around some high-top tables and were noshing and sipping Peroni (as “a palate cleanser,” or so I was told).  To demonstrate how well Italian craft beers might blend with their native cuisine, our hosts served us a mini antipasto, which included several cheeses — Piave vecchio, Pecorino Romano, and a creamy Gorgonzola dolce — two kinds of meat — Molinari dry salame and bresaola (dried, thinly sliced tenderloin) — some Cerignola olives, and small rounds of bread. It proved an ideal selection, as I found out later, and all but the olives (which were delicious but bitterly overpowering) went well with at least one of the beers.

Not surprising, no one I spoke to had yet tried any of the seven Italian beers on the menu. Apparently, the craft-brew craze is a relatively new phenomenon in Italy. According to beer expert Charlie Papazian, quoted in the evening’s handout, a small but growing number of Italian craft brewers “are romancing the notion that Italian culture and cuisine is an absolutely perfect complement to specialty craft brewed beers.” It’s such a recent trend, in fact, that more than half the beers chosen were produced by breweries less than five years old. As a result, few Americans have been exposed to their libations — and we, hanging out in Hampden, were ready to receive.

Here they are, then, the seven beers of Italy, ordered by brewery. Cin cin!

Nuova Mattina, Birrificio Del Ducato. According to our hosts, this is the youngest brewery in the bunch (launched in 2007), and that fact was evident in the boldness (and somewhat unfocused nature) of its two byproducts. The first, the aptly named Nuova Mattina (which means “new morning”), has all the characteristics of a saison — the herbal flavor, peppery-spicy notes, and the rambunctious carbonation — but it’s hoppier than I would expect, almost like an IPA, with plenty of orange and citrusy aromas and a richer, darker color, like an amber lager. Strangest of all is the unmistakable whiff (and taste) of one of the main ingredients — chamomile. Definitely not your typical brewhouse recipe item. But it (along with the whole crazy concoction) somehow works, especially when paired with a bite of the Gorgonzola. It mellowed the tanginess in the cheese and enhanced its silky, creamy texture. Nuova, indeed.

Krampus, Birrificio Del Ducato. Krampus lived up to its legend as the original “Bad Santa.” Like its sibling, Nuova Mattina, this mischievous beer is somewhat of a contradiction: technically a Christmas ale, it nonetheless felt maltier and sweeter, like an Easter beer (along the lines of a dopplebock) — it’s even brewed with star anise (think licorice jelly beans) — and it’s lighter, in terms of color and texture, like a lager. I thought I noticed a slightly sour, earthy, almost root-beer-like aftertaste, too (though I was in the minority here). I am certain of how well it paired with a slice of pecorino and salame on bread, scaring off the bitter flavors in favor of the sweet ones. And what’s not to like about that?

Tibir, Birrificio Montegioco. Technically a saison, Tibir actually defies classification as a “beer”: it poured out of the bottle golden and hazy, like a Belgian witbier, yet foamed like Champagne, had a citrusy, apple- or pear-like aroma, like a lambic, yet tasted slightly sour, not unlike a dill pickle. I heard someone call it the “Sauvignon blanc of beer,” which was an apt description, given that a local, little-used wine grape, Timorrasso, is added during the brewing process. That alone should have been an instant turn-off for me. And yet, within the first sip or two (and especially after matching with the sharp Piave vecchio) it proved one of the most unique and tastiest beers I’ve ever had.

Dolii Raptor, Birrificio Montegioco. Although its name sounds like a creature from a Michael Creighton novel, and it looked dark and foreboding, frothing in my glass, the Dolii Raptor proved as sweet and docile as, well, Dolly Parton. The literature says this ale, brewed in the Piedmont region, is matured in Barbera wine barrels for about six months, which contributes to its light brown, hazy appearance (there were definitely things floating in my glass!) along with a mellow, smoky aroma. I noticed a slightly sour, almost apple-like flavor but it was pleasing, like fresh cider, and created the perfect counterpoint to the rindy, briny Gorgonzola cheese and enhanced the sweetness in the dried meats. Should I say “raptor-ous”? (I should.)

Malthus Baluba, Il Birrificio di Como. This is another experimental, crossover brew that, though seemingly popular rated a resounding “weird” from my fellow imbibers. Why? Well, for one thing, it’s bottom-fermented, so it’s technically a lager. But it’s also brewed with an assortment of fruit and herbs, including apricot, pineapple, ginger, and rue, which accounts for its muddy-brown, hazy complexion and pushes it into the lambic or spiced stout category. It was surprisingly drinkable, however, with a mild malty, molasses-like sweetness, some nutty flavors, and a hint of chocolate in the aftertaste. But when someone mentioned it tasted “like liquid raisin bread” (and it did) I decided this Italiano didn’t quite suit its cuisine or my mood.

Sella Del Diavolo, Birrificio Barley. Produced on the island of Sardinia by one of the youngest of the new breweries, this beer is made from the least amount of ingredients, or so said our hosts. Perhaps its natural singularity contributes to its amazing versatility. Labeled as a strong brown ale, it poured out looking like an excitable witbier, and was as aromatic, too, with hints of citrus, spices, and even some honey. It was dry, slightly sweet, with a mildly bitter aftertaste.  I actually didn’t think it was all that flavorful, until I tried it with the cheeses — o solo mio! It was like a philosopher’s stone, drawing out a saltiness I hadn’t noticed in the pecorino and transforming a dollop of Gorgonzola into a mouthful of creamy milkshake. It was a devilish combination.

Cassisona, Birrificio Italiano. I have to admit this was my least favorite of the bunch, but that’s mainly because I don’t like cassis, which is the main additive during fermentation. Cassisona was quite elegant in the glass, with a bronze glow and lots of racy bubbles, and its fruity, flowery hops aroma was appealing enough. Quite a few of the tasters said they like it. But the sour, black currant and raisin flavors were overbearing and so winy to me that neither cheese nor meat provided any consolation.

So, there you have it, the magnificent seven. One thing that my wife, Amy, asked, after reading a draft of this (and, as always, thinking like a cook) was, “In the end, which beers would you serve with a typical Italian meal, like a plate of spaghetti and meat sauce?” Good question. It’s hard to say, without having had a taste comparison, but I would suggest the sweet ones over the bitter. The malty caramel and molasses flavors in a glass of Krampus or Malthus Baluba, for example, will latch onto the sugars in the tomatoes, while the hoppiness and bubbles cut through and wash away the residual fat in the oils and meat, prepping the palate for the next bite. Delicioso!

I also want to mention the conviviality and combibularity that was produced by the uncommon mix of people gathered in the tasting room — men and women, of differing ages and backgrounds, hailing from all over the city, coming together with a common interest: trying and buying well-crafted beers. We didn’t all agree on what flavors we were tasting, or which brews were our favorites — and few of us could even pronounce the names — but we were all in accord that it was a great event and would gladly do it again.

As always, let me know what you think. Did this review make you want to try these Italian craft beers? Are there others that I missed? What country produced your most surprising beer experience? Let us know by leaving a comment.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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June 2, 2009

April’s New Poems Continue to Bloom, Even in June

Perhaps T. S. Eliot was right. April can be one of the cruelest months, especially if you are trying to keep up with the deluge of new poems and poetry books.

You see, several years ago, I signed up to allow press releases, newsletters, news alerts, and suchlike other electronic detritus to rain down on me, at will, from the heights of the Academy of American Poets. I was especially interested in their offer to deliver one new poem each day (culled from new books scheduled to be published in that year), emailed to my inbox, during the month of April, which has been designated “National Poetry Month” (for better or worse) for more than a decade.

If I recall, the inaugural “Poem-A-Day” program didn’t quite live up to its promise; it started somewhat in the middle of the month, and poems arrived higgledy-piggledy for a few weeks, then it abruptly ceased. No big deal, I thought. On the whole, I managed to read (and like) what I received. In the ensuing years, however, the Web site has been more successful, with poems beginning to emerge on time, as advertised, and continuing to blossom in my inbox on a daily basis throughout the month and — as was the case last year — well into May. I have to admit that it has gotten increasingly harder to keep track of, let alone read and appreciate, all the new arrivals. (I know, beggars/choosers…)

And this year’s April showers have produced an especially bountiful (and overwhelming) crop of poems, because the Academy, in honoring both the national “holiday” and its 75th anniversary, enthusiastically extended the delivery period even further. So far, since the first, I’ve received 60-plus daily poems, pulled from books published or scheduled to be in 2009, and they are still arriving. Most (at least in terms of the ones I’ve read) have been good, some are of no interest, but a few grabbed me right away — and were compelling enough to make me want to reread and, better (in the eyes of the publishers and retailers, no doubt), go out and buy the whole book.

So I thought I’d share the wealth with you by mentioning a few of the standouts, in the hope of promoting the cause, bandying ideas about why I think poetry matters (in these dubious days, especially), and introducing you to some poems and poets you may not have heard of in the hope of sparking your interest. I want to point out that I’m partial to short, lyric poetry, so you won’t find much in the way of long-form or otherwise complex poems here (except as an excerpt). To me, the purpose of a poem is to capture a brief moment in time, or an emotion, and express that experience in both personal and universal terms, in as succinct a way as possible. Therefore, by nature, a poem should be fleeting, free of too much decoration or distraction, and fairly easily understood in one or two readings. Anything else is, well, something else and not a poem, at least to me.

Also, I understand that, just as one shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, one should not assume that the following poems are representative of the quality of each overall collection. However, you gotta start somewhere — and I can pull a number of volumes off my shelf that I picked solely on looks, reputation, smell, etc., and that have proved to be my favorites. My hope is that you’ll find something you like here, want to read it again, and even track down the whole book, on a store or library shelf.

So, here are my selections. Be sure you click on each link below, which will take you to the poem’s individual page at Poets.org, where you can read it in full, as well as find links to additional poems by the author, along with biographical and other information. There is also an archive of the full roster of this year’s Poem-A-Day selections, available here. Enjoy!

Ann Lauterbach, “Elegy for Sol LeWitt,” Or to Begin Again. There’s a lot going on in this compact, painterly poem. Most obvious are all the “lines” that weave throughout: lines on the weather map that look like “casts of fishing lines,” lines “drawn on walls” and “drawn across the canvases” that make geometric shapes, the colorful horizon line depicted at the end, and even the lines of the poem itself, which loop back and forth across the page. There are also the intriguing, differing shades of “pale” — the weather map is pale, so we are told, and so is the evening sky, along with “two pale squares / on a blackened field,” the pale “blue northern cold,” the “pale green / at Hartford,” and (most cleverly) “the blank newsprint of the sea.” There are other, more subtle similarities, as well. But after reading this poem a few times, I’m still not entirely clear about who is being elegized or why. (I could Google it, I suppose.) It doesn’t really matter, though. There is in this poem, as it itself claims, “a kind of logic / charged with motion” that’s compelling, drawing me in, encouraging me to wonder in delight.

Stacie Cassarino, “Goldfish Are Ordinary,” Zero at the Bone. This poem has one of the least poetic opening couplets I’ve encountered:

At the pet store on Court Street,
I search for the perfect fish.

And yet it captivated me right away and held my attention long enough for the pay-off, from the colorfully descriptive fish names — “black moor, the blue damsel, / cichlids and neons,” etc. — to an explanation for the search: to buy “Something / to distract your sadness, something / you don’t need to love you back.” (Isn’t that why everyone ultimately buys a pet?) As it turns out the title for the poem is a statement made by “the boy selling fish,” but there is nothing ordinary about it, from the vivid descriptions of the tank and its contents (”all of this grace and brilliance, / such simplicity the self could fail / to see”) to the way the poem moves from the concrete to the enigmatic at the end. Perfect.

Gregory Orr, “Untitled [This is what was bequeathed us],” How Beautiful the Beloved. As a writer I’m easily smitten by the sight of a beautiful turn of phrase, and the opening of this short excerpt from a book-length poem caught my eye right away and caused me to stare up and down at it several times:

This is what was bequeathed us:
This earth the beloved left
And, leaving,
Left to us.

Believe me when I tell you that much effort went in to making those four lines seem so effortless.  And this little taste, along with some other beauties, like the matter-of-fact elegance of “No meaning but what we find here. / No purpose but what we make,” leave me wanting more — to discover who “the beloved” is, for instance, and the meaning of the musically instructive last line, “Turn me into song; sing me awake.” How beautiful, indeed.

Pamela Spiro Wagner, “How to Read a Poem: Beginner’s Manual,” We Mad Climb Shaky Ladders. I have to admit I was a little caught off guard by this clever bit of poetic didacticism. I chuckled at first at some of the silliness –

To read poetry requires only courage
enough to leap from the edge
and trust.

You mean, like cliff-diving? But eventually I was won over by the seriousness of Wagner’s Whitmanesque appeal to poetry’s most important audience — the folks who are afraid to read it. If you or someone you love is not a regular reader of poetry, you should follow the steps outlined in this “manual.” The advice herein is sage (”First, forget everything you have learned”), the observations are keen (poetry is “language … doing holy things to the ordinary”), and the instruction is simple (”Read just one poem a day”). If the component parts of the poem live up to its credo (”the best poems mean what they say and say it”), you will soon find you don’t need its assistance.

Mei-Yao Ch’en, “An Excuse for Not Returning the Visit of a Friend,” Songs of Love, Moon, and Wind. This tiny, 12-line poem, translated from the ancient Chinese by Kenneth Rexroth,  is one of my favorites and I was delighted by its unexpected arrival. What gets me every time I read this poem, written nearly 1,000 years ago, in a land that couldn’t be more foreign to me, is how easily I can connect with the speaker’s dilemma. He blames his inability to be sociable on the behavior of his two children, For instance,

One has just begun to talk.
The other chatters without
stopping. They hang on my clothes
And follow my every step.

The palpable regret he feels for not being able to “get any farther / Than the door,” and presumably go out with the guys, is balanced by the barely understated joy he feels from the trappings of fatherhood. What parent of young children can’t relate to this situation? My three are more teen than toddler these days, and I still feel their tugging and, like the speaker, I am often “slow to go out” and leave them behind.

Charles Wright, “Little Ending,” Sestets. This is a strange, yet strangely appealing poem. Only six lines long (which, given its title, must be the case for the whole book), it nonetheless packs a wallop, freighted with mystery and meaning. There’s an odd, Eliot-like foreboding in some of the phrases: for instance, “Bowls will receive us, / and sprinkle black scratch in our eyes,” while “on the untouchable road, / It won’t matter where we have become.” No matter how “little,” though, the poem seems to be over-reaching for a dead-end. And yet, the last few lines appear full of hope — with the admonition that “Someone will take our hand, / someone will give us refuge” — even if we’re feeling hopeful for something unknown.

C. P. Cavafy, “Since Nine –,” Collected Poems. Sometimes the simplest poetic tricks can be the most effective. For instance, the repetition (and slight modification) of the same few words and phrases in this poem  (”the time has quickly passed,” “since nine o’clock when I first turned up the lamp,” “the apparition of my youthful body,” etc.) produces both a feeling of tempus-fugit tension and a soothing, lullaby-like release, as the speaker looks back on a life’s worth of pleasures and losses. It’s an incredibly moving (and deceptively tricky) conceit, typical of Cavafy, a remarkable yet little-known Greek poet from the last century whose work deserves to be rediscovered. Especially these days, as we cling to our nostalgia like a life-ring. And if this translation by Daniel Mendelsohn is any indication of the quality of the new collection, then this book should go a long way toward reviving his (and our) spirit.

There you have it, just a nosegay from this year’s sprawling garden of verse. I hope you found something you liked or were inspired to seek out more. I’ve already picked up the Rexroth translations and plan to acquire more titles, when I’m able. Though don’t ask me when I’m going to have time to read them.

As always, leave a comment about this week’s selections. What didn’t you like? Did I overlook a poem or author you think should have been included? And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (http://tinyurl.com/oozg5l), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

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May 27, 2009

Five Worth Finding: New Music Must-Haves to Start Your Summer

OK, apparently it’s time for me to give you what you’ve been asking for — more for less.

I’ve been conducting an informal poll among readers recently, seeking their likes and dislikes about the blog and its content, and what I’m hearing is great. Lots of compliments and positive comments, like, “It’s so good I don’t like to read it all in one sitting,” or, “I’m saving your articles to read later, when I have more time,” or, “There’s so much good information here, I just can’t take it all in,” or, “I get it in my email but I haven’t had a chance to open it yet,” or, “It sure is intellectual,” or, “You use so many big words,” and so on.

This is terrific feedback, believe me; it’s all very helpful and certainly flattering. But when I listen closely, what I hear between the lines is that today’s readers are too busy to peruse lots and lots of copy each week and occasionally want something less encumbered by, well, words. So, here, dearly polled, is my solution — a week’s post that’s short and to the point: just some recommendations and (almost) no blather. (Admittedly, it’s also a reaction to the fact that I spent all my “free time” playing over Memorial Day weekend, so I must be brief to be on time.)

Here are five new songs that I’ve been listening to lately and think you should find and own right now. They’re in no particular order, available on iTunes (and elsewhere), and perfect for summer, which just had its unofficial kick-off on Monday. Enjoy!

Diane Birch, “Rise Up,” Bible Belt. The breezy, piano-based groove at the heart of this R&B-leaning call-to-arms rolls like an old Van Morrison song, but with someone a little more tender at the mic, like Phoebe Snow, Janis Ian, or even Sheryl Crow. It’s a good-time tune for driving around town on a hot afternoon, with the windows down and your eyes wide open.

Grizzly Bear, “Two Weeks,” Veckatimest. Do you occasionally want music that’s as light, heady, and refreshing as your favorite summertime drink? Then grab and down this track right away. A concoction of effervescent keyboards and electronics, swirling Beach Boyish vocal harmonies, and a strong backbeat, Grizzly Bear’s latest release will provide you with enough good vibrations to last all season.

Art Brut, “DC Comics and Chocolate Milkshake,” Art Brut vs. Satan. I’m a longtime fan of this band (and the working-class-Brit-speak-singing of Eddie Argos) and their funny, edgy, postpunk sound has never been spikier. In this song, Argos admits he’s a late bloomer and may never grow out of his devil-may-care, boyhood ways because, as he says, “some things” — like the combo named in the title — “will always be great.”

Dan Deacon, “Of the Mountains,” Bromst. If this song is any indication, Deacon will no longer be one of Baltimore’s best-kept musical secrets. It’s a wild and woolly mix of electronic and found sounds that builds in rhythmic intensity like a backyard at twilight. At once cinematic and grand, melodic and enigmatic, corny and twee, it’s what you might play while lying in a hammock at the end of the day.

The Veils, “Sit Down by the Fire,” Sun Gangs. Anthemic, romantic, brooding, and cathartic, this folk-rocker releases its emotional power gradually, the way U2 songs used to, when the band was at its best. With an infectious melody, lush vocals, and hard-strumming guitars that smolder and blaze, this song will draw you in from the night’s shadows to join the circle around the band’s comforting conflagration.

So, there you have it — five must-have songs to start your summer. As always, leave a comment and let me know what you think of my selections.

And don’t worry, I’ll be back next week with more of the usual long-winded jibber-jabber that you’ve come to expect from Scribbleskiff — and that causes you to smile uncomfortably at me from a distance or avoid me at parties. I know you love it, despite what you say.

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May 19, 2009

Six Degrees of Celebration: Honoring Craft Beer Week, One Bottle at a Time

As anyone who knows me will attest, I don’t really need a good excuse to drink a good beer. But I figure that, when a legitimate opportunity comes knocking, one should open the door.

So, a few days ago, when I heard that May 11-17 was called “American Craft Beer Week,” I quickly pledged my allegiance to the craft and set out to celebrate my favorite American craft beermakers by patronizing my favorite American craft beer retailer, The Wine Source (though, from where I’m standing, they might need to change their name). Rather than grab a six-pack or 22 oz. “bomber” from only one or two breweries (hey, I may be a loyalist but I’m also a cheapskate), I decided to check out what was being offered by the store’s so-called “Beer Club.” Luckily, there is no fee to join this club or any membership requirements (besides, I agree with what Groucho Marx says about clubs). It is simply a tall metal rack of about a half-dozen shelves lined with an ever-changing assortment of single bottles. You just pick whatever you want to try — beers range from about $1 – $3 apiece — and they offer a 10% discount if you buy six at a time. Participating in the “club” is a good way to try something new without investing in a beer you may not like.

A pick of six in honor of American Craft Beer Week

A mix-a-six, in honor of American Craft Beer Week

Last week, to maximize my commitment to Beer Week, and minimize the damage to my wallet, I picked out a half-dozen new-to-me native varietals. My goal was either to try new offerings by breweries I know and trust or to pop open something untried from parts unknown. Nearly all fell into the latter category, and I drank one or two each night, with and without food, and jotted down my thoughts in order to share them with you.

Here, then, are my mix-a-six picks, in order of consumption — the choice of when to open was based on mood and meal. Enjoy!

Hop Head Red Ale, Green Flash Brewing Co. I have to admit, the words “Hop” and “Red” on the label caught my attention before anything else. Most of the red ales I’ve tried have been fairly tame, tending toward sweet and mild. So the idea that this San Diego-based brew was boasting some extra hoppiness was appealing. And I was not mislead. This beer poured out in a dark amber, almost auburn color — even the lively foam head had a ruddy glow. The familiar citrusy hops aroma was immediate and the taste was dry and bitterful — the label refers to it as “resinous hop character,” which is an apt description, since all the liquid in my mouth evaporated with the first sip. I wouldn’t hesitate to call it an IPA and drank the beer with some zesty-salty turkey tacos and salsa. It was a good pairing, not quite sweet enough but, like any redhead, brash and ready for a fight against the spice.

The Love, Starr Hill Brewery LLC. I know it sounds weird to say, but I’ve got a crush on this bold, bubbly, very approachable wheat beer. Although technically a German hefeweizen, this oddly-named brew (reportedly the byproduct of a friendship between a Charlottesville, Va.-based brewer and a yeast “smuggler”), is as lively and quick as a Belgian. It’s got a golden hue, plenty of fragrance and flavors (I noticed banana, orange, and cloves), a low alcohol content (only 4.6%), and a steady, racy base of carbonation. All of which made for a very refreshing aperitif with some gourmet nibbles — salted almonds, hard pretzels, and Cheez-Its (oh, yeah). Brewed unfiltered, it arrives delightfully hazy in the glass and leaves a nice ring of tasty yeast in the bottle. Overall, this is one of the best wheat beers I’ve had in awhile — go share “The Love” with someone you love.

Blue Paw Wheat Ale, Sea Dog Brewing Co. My faithful brew guide, Jed, is crazy about a particular blueberry-flavored beer, which he says is the best. But this one, from the Portland, Maine-based brewery, was the only one of its kind on the club’s shelf last week, and now I wonder if I should’ve taken a cue from Jed. I’m sure that brewing an ale with wild blueberries grown in a state renowned for the fruit ensures good quality, I just wasn’t wild about this beer. Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of fruity beverages. Maybe it’s the bad memories of too many girlfriends (i.e., girls who are friends) drinking bad wine-coolers in college. More likely, it’s the fact that I think wheat beers are fruity enough on their own. Moreover, if the fruit flavor is simply “added,” as it is here, rather than used as an integral part of the brewing process, the end result tends to be insipid. This beer might be best served with dessert — it went well with a store-bought oatmeal cookie, for instance — but a good fruit beer, like a lambic, is more versatile and makes an excellent accompaniment to food infused with fruit flavors, such as pork chops and applesauce (swell, ma!).

Genesis Ale, Shmaltz Brewing Company. Apparently, this aptly named beverage is the first creation in the “He’Brew: The Chosen Beer” line from this Saratoga Springs, N.Y.-based brewhouse. And, after only one bottle’s worth, I’m happy to declare it my new first choice for light brown ales. Honestly, I’ve passed over this beer many times, basing my judgment on the cartoonish artwork and corny shtick on the label. But, oy!, was I wrong. It’s a pleasant pour, right out of the bottle, with a nice brown color, fruity aromatics, and a malty sweetness that’s balanced by just enough hop bitterness. It’s dry on the palate and even a little tart — and it’s certified kosher, which made it even more appetizing with our Oscar Mayer hot dogs. L’Chaim, indeed!

Orange Blossom, Buffalo Bill’s Brewery. Although promisingly pungent and effervescent from the bottle to the glass, this beer unfortunately suffered the same fate as the blueberry wheat ale — lots of fruity goodness but not enough “beeriness” to make it a good beer. It was certainly refreshing, but in the way a cold orange soda serves as a quenching quaff on a hot afternoon. As a cream ale, it might pair well with a light salad — Amy makes a lively one with mixed greens, mandarin oranges, almond slivers, and a tart vinaigrette dressing — or even grilled fish, like orange roughy (these recipes look good). But on its own, this blossom (which, it turns out, is cultivated by the familiar Pyramid Breweries) just didn’t open up for me.

Eye of the Hawk Select Ale, Mendocino Brewing Company. The only novelty in the mix that’s made by a brewery I knew, this well-balanced, brisk ale was nonetheless a surprising selection. Slightly sweet and dry, with lots of hoppiness, carbonation, and a lovely reddish-amber complexion, it proved the perfect pal for our occasional Sunday night comfort-food smorgasbord — french fries, pizza rolls, chicken nuggets, ketchup, frozen peas, etc. You may laugh, but this complex and highly capable bird met the toasty notes head-on, cut through the fat and oily spices, and simply soared with every bite. I’ll have my eye out for it from now on, for sure.

There you have it, a chronicle of my six degrees of celebration in honor of American Craft Beer Week. As always, let me know what you think. Have you had any of these beers before? If so, what do you think of my opinions? What is your favorite American craft beer? Did you celebrate the week in a similar fashion?

In case you are wondering, American Craft Beer Week isn’t, as my cousin Peter suggested, merely an opportunity to have your kids cover old Natty Boh bottles with papier-mache. Nor it is simply a marketing ploy by the Brewers Association to sell more suds. As a matter of fact, the week-long event was originally created by Congress under House Resolution 753, which was enacted in 2006 to commend the efforts of American craft brewers, who are responsible for creating and maintaining more than 30,000 U.S. jobs, who support American agriculture and its products, and who contribute to the well-being of “the Nation’s communities, economy, and history.”

See, that’s not crafty pork at all. Or, if it is, may I suggest a nice orange-flavored ale, with a decorative (and functional) hand-knit cozy, to help wash it down?

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May 13, 2009

Laughin’ and Tumblin’, Dazed and Wicked: More Musings on Music and Record Collecting

Around the turn of the new year, I began a voyage of rediscovering, if you will, a process of returning to and continually seeking (and finding) new things within my vinyl record collection. It all started when I received a newfangled turntable last Christmas, which allowed me to begin pulling records off the shelf again, cleaning and playing them, all the while reminiscing about where I was when I first (or last) heard each, what I was doing, or who I was with. I have written several times about my experiences so far (here and here, for instance).

I made another foray into my collection recently, still moving alphabetically through the stacks, choosing records at random, sticking to my single-side limitation, and uncovering some long-forgotten treasures. (I hope you will agree.) In addition to hearing favorite musicians and songs again for the first time in years, I’ve also had the chance to muse a little about the curiosities of long-playing records (or LPs, for short), enjoying the unique traits that allow them to stand out from other classes of audiophilia.

Consider, for instance, that unlike the unified CD-ROM (or, heaven help us, the infinite mp3 playlist), the vinyl LP has two distinct sides, or dimensions. This might sound obvious, but it’s no tautology. It used to be (or, at least, I assumed it to be) that the songs on each facet of an original studio album were arranged purposefully. In other words, the songs were ordered — whether sequentially, thematically, sonically, etc. — with a purpose, like chapters in a novel, or the items in a still-life painting: to tell a story, to create contrasts, to bewilder the audience, and so on. Whether it was a classical, jazz, or rock recording, each side of a vinyl record had a narrative arc of sorts (a beginning, middle, and end) that often differed from its complement.

Take Side One of Wish You Were Here, by Pink Floyd, which opens with the subdued, bluesy, spaced-out synthesizer and guitar lines of the first few movements of “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” the band’s homage to Syd Barrett, their former lead singer (and madcap recluse). The music then builds slowly, without interruption, to a driving, sax-wailing crescendo before slipping into the thudding dissonance of “Welcome to the Machine.” It’s truly haunting. Side Two, in contrast, begins with the upbeat, slightly funky “Have a Cigar,” then moves to the strumming, pop-leaning title song, and closes out with the last four movements of “Shine… ,” which are more rousing and soulful than the opening cuts. On the whole, then, the two sides of Wish You Were Here offer a robust, wide-ranging collection of songs and sounds that both hang together under a central theme and — and this is the key — played separately, could stand on their own and feel complete.

The guys in Pink Floyd were lucky they made their Wish when they did. In 1975, it was nearly impossible to play “Welcome to the Machine” and “Have a Cigar” back-to-back, which would have been a buzz-killer, for sure. The pause inherent in the physical act of picking up the platter, turning it over, placing it on the turntable, swinging the stylus arm back out and placing it on the tracks would have provided enough time for the strange, maniacal laughter that ends Side One to clear the listener’s ears before the jaunty, playful bass steps in on Side Two.

I’ve often wondered what it was like for musicians working in the days when record labels began making the switch from the two-faced and limited LPs to the single-sided and virtually endless CDs. How did the bands who bridged the gap approach their recordings in the new era? Did they spend more time or less deciding how songs went together and in what sequence. The advent of the “program,” “shuffle,” and “repeat” modes on a CD player was incredibly empowering for the listener, who gained the ability to control the order in which songs get played. However, I imagine the change was devastating to musicians and the folks who helped them make records — it no longer mattered what songs went on which side. There were no longer any “sides,” in fact, or contrasts, no need for a predetermined “order” or sequence, because everything was “flat” and one-dimensional: all the songs, or only a few, could be played, and in any manner, and however many times that the listener wanted.

Perhaps it was liberating, but I suspect the new technology produced the opposite effect. Musicians often enter the studio with more songs than they plan to use, usually weeding out the ones that don’t seem to fit within the framework, during either the final rehearsals or post-recording production time. But with the restrictions lifted (CDs have a run time that’s nearly double that of a vinyl LP, for instance) bands were required to make fewer choices and could include more material, such as last-minute (and presumably less polished) compositions, outtakes, hidden tracks, etc. This is great for the fans but, I think, can be damaging to the artistic integrity of the LP and the band. I suspect the technological advancements of the mid 1980s contributed to the demise of many established acts and curtailed the rise of new ones.

Luckily for me (and, perhaps, not so lucky for you, dear reader), I was there to pick up the pieces, and I have stashed them in neat, narrow 12″x12″ cardboard containers that line several shelves in my bookcase. And here, once more, are some recollections on some of these items in my collection.

Burl Ives, It’s Just My Funny Way of Laughin’, Side One. Most of my memories of Burl Ives involve the childrens’ records he made (and I listened to endlessly) more than 40 years ago. Along with Pete Seeger, Marlo Thomas, and some others, Ives and his shimmering tenor shaped the soundtrack of my childhood. I can remember listening to “The Little White Duck” with my two sisters, dancing or “doing what we oughter” in the playroom of our house on many rainy Saturday mornings. Ives is probably best-known to my generation as the voice (and visage) for “Sam the Snowman” on the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer TV special, though he was a versatile, accomplished actor, both onstage and on the big screen (for instance, you can see a clip of him playing Big Daddy in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” here). I inherited this collection of “contemporary folk and country songs” a few years back, when a relative cleared out some cabinet space, and it’s this Ives — as “celebrated singer and song-stylist” — that I’ve come to appreciate most in recent years. Side One features tunes written by top Nashville recording artists of the day, such as Mel Tillis and Roger Miller, that are, according to the rather purple liner notes, “destined to find their way into the repertoires of those … who will musically pattern themselves after the discerning taste and ever-fresh originality that are the essence of Burl Ives.” (That makes me laugh in a funny way.)

Elmore James, Greatest Hits, Side 2. During my junior year in college, I spent the month of January on a solo trip to England, staying with friends in and around London and taking a number of day trips to the countryside. I carried little with me on these excursions except a copy of Let’s Go, a book or two, a pad and pen, a Sony Walkman and about a dozen cassettes. Along the way I picked up several more tapes, often live bootlegs of favorite bands or new releases on foreign labels that were (I assumed) unavailable back home. One of my favorite finds was an incredibly rich compilation of “original blues recordings” by at least two dozen musicians and singers, many of whom I had never heard. One of these was Elmore James, whose driving, bottleneck-slide wailer “Dust My Broom” I listened to over and over — often stopping at the final note and immediately rewinding the cassette to the beginning of the song — both draining the batteries and wearing out the tape. I knew I needed more James, so when I got home I found this LP (a Dutch import!) in the cut-outs bin at the Bucknell University bookstore and promptly set to wearing it out, as well. Although the record opens with the familiar “Dust” (which has skipped after the first chorus for almost 30 years), I think the second side, which contains “Rollin’ and Tumblin’” and “I Believe” (two of the many James tunes to be made famous by others), is just more joyously mournful.

King Crimson, Discipline, Side 1. I’m not exactly sure how I first got turned on to King Crimson. Maybe it was because I was a fan of Emerson, Lake and Palmer in the 1970s and sought out recordings made by its individual members (yes, I was a music geek even as a teenager), including bassist and singer Greg Lake, who contributed to several King Crimson records, including the deliciously dark and disturbing debut, In the Court of the Crimson King. But the band had a revolving door, and many talented musicians moved in and out over the years, leaving only guitarist Robert Fripp at the hub. I was a fan, but it wasn’t until I saw them live at Merriweather Post Pavilion one summer, touring in support of this 1981 release, that I truly appreciated what incredible music Fripp (who looks like Liev Schreiber) could make. He sat onstage, slightly to the side of the lead vocalist (who in this case was Adrian Belew), surrounded by all kinds of devices that he called “Frippertronics” — tape-drives, effects-makers, recording machines, etc. — looping, layering, and riffing on himself (much like he does in this video). It was brilliant and wildly entertaining. The line-up remained constant for the next two recordings (Beat and Three of a Perfect Pair), which played off of and revisited some similar themes. But Discipline — and especially Side 1, which features the word-worshipful “Elephant Talk,” the soothing “Matte Kudasai,” and the jarring “Indiscipline” — is Fripp’s crown jewel.

Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin, Side One. I have to admit that picking the Zeppelin LP to write about here is a little like making Sophie’s choice (though, thankfully, I’m only choosing a favorite record and I get to hold onto the runners-up). I own all the original studio recordings on vinyl, have listened to them continually over the years (I even played them all again in preparation for writing this), can still sing most of the lyrics, and at one point could name the track listings in order. (And, yes, my children laugh at my air-guitar solos.) In the end, though, the first is the one I go to the most. Why? Mainly because I think it’s one of the most daring debuts I’ve ever heard. From the opening of the radio-friendly “Good Times Bad Times” straight through to the romping closer “How Many More Times,” it’s hard to top the sheer energy and creativity of a band one musician reportedly predicted would go down in flames. Instead, these guys burst onto the late-1960s music scene fully formed, gained altitude quickly, and never looked back. In fact, many of the songs on this first record established the multifaceted sound that they would polish and refine over the next two decades — from blues-oriented rockers (“You Shook Me”) and Middle Eastern-influenced acoustic compositions (”Black Mountain Side”) to the long, wailing psychedelic numbers that became their signature sound and gave flight to so many imitators (“Dazed and Confused”). Although I gained it second-hand and can’t claim to have heard it when it hit the stores (what I wouldn’t give to have been there when people first heard Robert Plant’s crazy, unmanly falsetto moans for the first time) — and I was exposed to many of their later tunes (such as “Black Dog” and “Stairway,” for sure) long before ever dropping the needle on Side One — I can remember feeling after the first time I played it (and the many more times afterward) that this was all the schoolin’ I would ever need. No foolin’.

Maria McKee, Maria McKee, Side One. As a DJ, I liked playing “Ways to Be Wicked” by the ’80s cowpunk band Lone Justice. So much so that I bought a copy of the album for myself and gave it as a gift to people that Christmas. Several years later, when I heard that the band had split and its lead singer, Maria McKee, had released a solo record, I bought hers, too, on a lark and unheard. What a lucky break: I have no idea where my Lone Justice vinyl is, but I have kept this incredible LP close by for 20 years. Although not a “great” record, as singer-songwriters go, its virtue lies in capturing McKee’s indescribably perfect voice at a career high. There are several stand-outs on both sides, such as McKee’s cover of Richard Thompson’s woeful “Has He Got a Friend for Me?” which closes out the LP. But two songs on Side One are so strong — “Am I the Only One (Who’s Ever Felt This Way?),” which The Dixie Chicks remade for their highly successful album Wide Open Spaces, and “Nobody’s Child,” which she co-wrote with Robbie Robertson — that it’d be wicked of me not to admit it’s my favorite.

So, there you have it. As I continue to explore my vinyl record collection, and record my thoughts as I go, I will continue to report back here, so stay tuned. In the meantime, let me know what you think. Do you disagree with my observations? Have I overlooked anything? What is lurking silently among your LPs, waiting to be heard?

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May 4, 2009

Oh My, Oh Me, Oh, What Beers Should We Drink-o on Cinco de Mayo?

When I started this blog a year ago or so, one of the first things I wrote about was my experience trying to find the right beer to go with a dinner of cheese quesadillas, salsa, and my wife Amy’s fresh guacamole. It was a non-event, really, held on an ordinary Thursday, with no particular goal or intended outcome in mind. It just seemed like fun to us, and that, in a way, is what gave rise to my idea for starting a weekly blog: writing aimless thoughts, about nothing especially important, to share with anyone who wants to be carried away for awhile.

Well, in honor of that fateful moment, and in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, which turns up on the calendar tomorrow (and in light of the fact that fewer people will be heading south of South of the Border any time soon), I decided to revisit the question that started it all — what beer goes best with Mexican food? — and recently held a tasting (a last-minute decision, of course) over dinner with some friends.

But before you shout out the names of your favorite imports — especially the bottled ones that require you to cram a lime down their necks like some poor foie gras goose — let me just say that I decided to go with an all-American craft brewery selection for this tasting. Why? For one thing, like St. Patty’s Day, Cinco de Mayo is really just an Americanized version of another country’s phony holiday. (In fact, this boozy-woozy pair of “traditions” single-handedly, and literally, keeps places like Hooters and Party City afloat through the springtime doldrums.) Why “phony”? Well, according to Wikipedia (the phony Encyclopedia Britannica), Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence Day, as popularly believed. Instead it’s a relatively regionalized, voluntary holiday commemorating the Mexican army’s defeat of Napoleon’s French forces at the Battle of Puebla in 1862 — 50 years after the country had declared its independence. (You can read a more detailed history of the holiday here.)

In other words, few people in Mexico care about Cinco de Mayo. The main reason it’s recognized in this country is to celebrate Americans of Mexican ancestry. And that’s not a bad thing, except that the most popular “holiday” beers are terribly Yankee-fied — there’s very little difference between, say, a bottle of Corona and a bottle Coors. (Perhaps it’s an urban myth, but it’s my understanding that even Mexicans don’t drink Corona.) Because of this cerveza chauvinism, few people know about or have tried the better-tasting Mexican beers, like Dos Equis, Tecate, Pacifico, or (my favorite) Negro Modelo.

And the “traditional” Mexican foods we Americans eat — tacos, nachos, quesadillas, chalupas, etc. — are about as culturally authentic as Chicken a la King (read this amusing and informative article, or this “taco-off” review, and you’ll see what I mean). I have had the good fortune to eat real Mexican food only once or twice (and only on this side of the border), so I am no expert; suffice to say, though, from the ingredients listed in some of the recipes I read in preparation for this article, the mix of flavors looks complex and delicious. In case you are interested, you can find recipes for authentic Mexican meals here, along with some traditional drink recipes. Also, SELF magazine offers some healthy yet tasty-looking variations on traditional recipes, such as fish tacos and sangria.

As it turns out, then, unlike the marauding French who failed to conquer Mexico and got their Bonaparte blown apart on May 5, we neighborly Americans have quietly taken over Cinco de Mayo entirely. So it seems fitting that we gringos should celebrate it on our own and let Mexico honor its true Independence Day on September 16 in paz.

With that objective in mind, and with the help from Jed, my trusted sudsologist at The Wine Source, I chose beers from several different styles — cinco, to be exact — for this week’s tasting: amber lagers, pale ales, India pale ales (IPAs), pilsners, and saisons. All are versatile and flavorful enough to accompany and enhance a less-than-traditional (though no less delicious) Americanized meal of homemade guacamole, chips and salsa, chicken enchiladas with green chili and cheese filling, Spanish rice, and a salad with a giner-spice herb dressing and pan-fried tortilla croutons. Slight variations to the menu would call for different beer choices — for instance, I might serve an altbier or a brown ale to go with a bean burrito slathered in smoky chile sauce, while a dry Irish stout would make the perfect mate for sizzling beef and grilled vegetable fajitas.

Also, in terms of a pre-dinner cocktail for this menu, I recommend tequila and prefer to sip it on the rocks, with a wedge of lime. It’s a simple, elegant way to prepare for the fiesta of flavors to come. Margaritas are my next choice, but only if made from scratch and poured over ice; the premixes are often bitter and too harsh as an aperitif, and the frozen variety numbs the tongue like a lime Slurpee (and aye-aye-ayee!, what a “brain freeze”). Anyway, I recently received a sample bottle of the 2008 Plata from Tequila Ocho, a “single estate” tequila distilled in Las Pomez, in the mountains of Mexico. I tried it over ice, with and without fresh lime, and concluded that, with a pedigree like that of a single-batch bourbon, and its sweet molasses aroma and fruity, nutty flavors, this drink could be habit forming.

Following are the beers we tasted, grouped by style (from the lightest to the most complex), with a few tasting notes and serving suggestions. Enjoy!

Pilsners: I never tire of the quaffable Prima Pils from Victory Brewing Co., which has a dry, slightly bittersweet quality that’s perfectly suited for starters like chips and salsa, and which a tasting panel at the New York Times recently hailed as best in style. However, I thought the Pils from Lagunitas Brewing Company, Petaluma, California, should be crowned pilsner head honcho for our meal. This Czech style pilsner was a little darker in color than the others, had a slightly maltier, sturdier flavor base, and thus was better able to shoulder the broad mix of flavors of the whole meal. We also enjoyed Sunshine Pils from Troegs, which was slightly hoppier than the others and shone brightest with the mildly flavored foods.

Amber lagers: Following in the pioneering spirit of their forebears, many of the early American microbrewers thought that bottling a pilsner — which is a lager, essentially the only style of beer available on the market in the early 1980s — was not distinctive enough. So, many focused on ales. But a few, including the Brooklyn Brewery, combined several ingredients (a little roasted malt for color and flavor, some aromatic hops, etc.) to create something unique: the American amber lager. The extra caramel sweetness and added hoppiness found in Brooklyn Lager and others like it, such as Old Scratch, from Flying Dog, make this style quite versatile, compared to the more traditional European pilsners. For instance, I thought Brooklyn Lager, which is great with something zesty, like pizza, paired well with the tomato-based salsa and the spicy rice dish. Others preferred the Flying Dog, which with its smokier flavor and slightly drier finish, would be a faithful companion to chicken enchiladas topped with guacamole and sour cream.

Pale ales: For years, my beer of choice for Mexican meals has been Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. Its slightly bitter, sweet, bready flavors and fragrant, citrusy aromas are a great match for the toasted flour tortillas, melted cheese, and tart tomatoes and cilantro in my wife’s chicken enchiladas, smothered in salsa. I always have a bottle or two in the refrigerator. However, after tasting the Pale Ale from Caldera Brewing Company in Ashland, Oregon, my Sierras may have to make some elbow room on the “staples” shelf in the door. This robust, malty, clean-tasting beer — which comes in a can and will surely share cooler space with Dale’s Pale Ale come summer — paired well with everything on my plate, from the dollop of guac to the discriminating, zesty salad dressing. The group also liked another stalwart of mine, Shelter Pale Ale from Dogfish Head, which is a little less pungent but weathered the meal equally well.

India pale ales: The typical IPA differs from a pale ale in one distinct way — hops. And most American craft-brewers are generous when adding these little, green flower buds, which produce the bitter, citric, piney aromas that are characteristic of the IPA style. The hops are also responsible for providing the slightly crisper, sharper refreshment and extra cutting power that some pale ales lack but are often needed in the battle against spicy food. So, if your tamales are well-wrapped and you like your chilis hot, hot, hot, then pour yourself an IPA. I thought the ThunderHead IPA from Pyramid Breweries, which the label says is “bursting with hops,” certainly lived up to its name and was a palate pleaser. However, several eaters felt the Hop Hog, from Lancaster Brewing Company, and the “perfectly balanced” Southampton Publick House IPA, were less tempestuous and and thus a more level-headed selection for the table.

Saisons: As brewmaster and brews expert Garrett Oliver says, saisons are so complex and diverse they “seem to go with everything.” This Belgian “farmhouse ale” style is especially accommodating to meals featuring a mix of flavor types, whether bright (lime, chilies, cilantro) or dark (refried beans, cayenne pepper), or sweet (cheese) and acidic (salsa). There’s plenty of bitterness in saison to cut through the fat and salt, high carbonation to cleanse the palate, and spicy, fruity notes (everything from pepper to coriander to oranges) to mingle with an assortment of flavors. We tried Hennepin from Brewery Ommegang in Cooperstown, New York, and Red Sky at Night from Baltimore-based Clipper City. Although I liked both beers, especially the way they enhanced the starchy, smoky rice and the salsa, the group of tasters all preferred the Red Sky ( “slightly sweeter,” they said, and “tamer”) to the Hennepin ( “just plain weird”).

So, there you have it — my suggestions for five American-born craft beer styles that will make you shout “yee-ha!” at your Cinco de Mayo festivities. As always, let me know what you think.

And, I should mention, here we are — 52-plus posts later, nearly 3,500 page views, and lots and lots of great comments. Although I haven’t said anything important in a whole year, I’m still having fun. Hope you are, too. Thanks for reading!

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