Over a barrel

You can tell it's spring because there's a possibility of natural lighting in these photos now.

You can tell it’s spring because there’s a possibility of natural lighting in these photos now.

The Specs: Phillips Brewing Co. (Victoria, BC), Puzzler Barrel-Aged Belgian Black IPA
7.3 per cent ABV, 650mL


So, let’s talk about barrel-aging. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. This is awkward, because if you throw a rock in your average craft-beer-fancying liquor store right now there’s a pretty high chance you’re going to hit at least one bottle that boasts some time in old wood (and a small chance you’ll instead hit a liquor store employee. Don’t throw rocks in liquor stores.)

I’m not exactly opposed to the taste barrel-aging seems to impart — a sort of rich, funky-fruity warmth that reminds me a bit of those super high-alcohol styles like tripel — but the second I notice that tone in a bottle, odds are good I’m going to lose the ability to taste anything else going on.

Which brings me to the barrel-aged version of Philips Puzzler, where I really, really wanted to taste something else.

The first couple sips of this beer were exactly what I was hoping for from something with the words “black IPA” on its label — a broad swath of hoppy bitterness traversing a more classic dark beer full of toasted grains and just a whiff of coffee. Mild sweetness, thick head, nice, dense mouthfeel a bit beyond the usual IPA. All-around, a fantastic beer I was intensely excited to drink.

And then the barrel aging kicked in around sip five and I lost all sense of the hops… and everything else besides.

To be fair, Philips does prime you for this a bit on its website, where the special aged Puzzler’s hop character is described as “a more subtle presence” than that of the non-aged garden-variety stuff. From my experience so far, I’m guessing the original is more my line. If I can track a bottle down somewhere in Kamloops, I’ll report back.

Moral of this story, I guess, is don’t buy barrelled beer unless you mean it. While I’m sure there’s a place for it that I enjoy, it’s going to take some more tasting for me to figure out just when that is.

(An aside that’s not really here nor there: It’s interesting how the flavours of barrel-aging really change your perception of a beer. After a pint of this, I was sure it must be about an 8 or 9 per cent, but it’s a relatively mild 7.3. That bourbon-y wood really amps up the boozy flavour, if not the ABV.)

On that one IPA (you know which one)

Wow, I really short-poured myself on this mug, didn't I?

Wow, I really short-poured myself on this mug, didn’t I?

The Specs: Driftwood Brewery (Victoria, B.C.), Fat Tug IPA
7 per cent ABV, 650mL, regular series


Turns out, there’s a down side to becoming less of a dumb baby beer fan running around the liquor store grabbing bottles at random. At some point, it becomes impossible to ignore The Consensus — you know, those opinions of more seasoned craft drinkers repeated in so many Untappd reviews, blog posts, and friendly conversations that one can’t help but accept them as gospel.

And when it comes to Fat Tug, The Consensus is pretty darn devoted. Chances are, if you’re a seasoned beer drinker who likes IPAs, you already have an opinion on this one, and it’s probably fairly positive

I’ve had it described to me as B.C.’s best IPA, and a cursory Google turns up rapt reviews from across the country.

In the face of such praise I did the only natural thing — develop an intense paranoia that I would hate this beer.

Longtime blog readers already know about my deep-seated hops ambivalence. That I’m even drinking and sort of enjoying some IPAs these days is a shock, after years of thinking your average India Pale tasted like a pine cone, and not in a good way.

Fat Tug pours a pretty gold and smells mostly of grapefruit off the top. And, after a couple sips, I breathed a sigh of relief, because this beer does exactly what it promises to.

There’s a very juicy, grapefruit start, which slowly levels off into a lingering bitterness. Driftwood claims mango and melon flavours as well, but it’s really grapefruit’s show. I appreciate how controlled the bitterness is here, never overwhelming your palate to the point where you miss the upfront flavours.

It’s an IPA, but it’s an IPA I might conceivably drink again, under the right circumstances. For this style, that’s a victory.

(I’ll also note for the record I like this stuff a heck of a lot more than another of Driftwood’s hoppy offerings, New Growth Pale Ale, which I attempted to review back in January but just couldn’t work up the momentum to write about. Objectively it’s a pretty good beer, but I shouldn’t have to talk myself into appreciating something, you know?)

Ghost of beers past

photo

I thought about calling this review ‘Younger Tusk’ but figured that maaaaybe a pun on a Japandroids song was a little out there, even for this hipster.

The Specs: Whistler Brewing Co., Black Tusk Ale
5 per cent ABV, 650mL, year-round


 

It’s interesting the difference a couple of years can make.

When Whistler’s Black Tusk Ale and I last met, I was pretty new to craft beer’s more interesting forms.

In fact, the purple-labeled bottle might have been one of my first bomber purchases, besides all those pumpkin beers back in the halcyon, pre-Pumpkindrome days of 2013.

While pretty much every local craft beer snob I know gives me shit for liking Whistler (which, the newest edition of Craft Beer Revolution* reminds us, is mostly brewed in Kamloops, funnily enough), they’re the brewery who really made me take note of the more interesting things you can do with beer, and for that I owe them a debt of gratitude.

And while Black Tusk doesn’t match up to the nostalgic taste in my head – I’d remembered something just a bit more plush, a little richer, a little more flavourful all-round — it’s still pretty ok.

Like your average darker beer, Whistler hits the usual notes: Chocolate? Check. Coffee? Also check. It’s on the fizzy side and straight out of the fridge I found it a bit more acidic than I’d remembered — which isn’t actually my thing with beer so much, so I’d suggest waiting for it to warm up a few degrees. At its coldest, it seemed to retain a little bit more of a bitter, slightly hoppy edge than some dark beers, like a less pronounced version of some of the English-style mild beers I’ve had.

It’s not bad. Just, not as exciting as it was in 2013 and not quite as delightful as similar beers I’ve tried since then. There’s probably some kind of metaphor about nostalgia in there, isn’t there?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend several months paranoid that Whistler Grapefruit, summer beer of my heart, is not as good as I remember. Tastebuds, you better not.

*The new edition drops this weekend, but an advance copy showed up at the KTW offices this week, so more on that front to come.

In which Bad Rider gets all food bloggy

Speaking of food blogs, what should I do with all these lemons?

Speaking of food blogs, what should I do with all these lemons?

The Specs: Mt. Begbie Brewery (Revelstoke, B.C.) Powerhouse Pale Ale
4.8 per cent ABV, 650mL, regular lineup


Had Don Draper not copped ‘It’s Toasted’ for Lucky Strike back in season one of Mad Men, Mt. Begbie Brewery could’ve made a good claim for the slogan for this pale ale.

If the beer has one defining characteristic (beyond it’s decidedly non-pale amber colour), it’s the roasted flavour of its malt. Quite a lot about the beer brewing process still eludes me, but from the first sip those baked notes were impossible to miss.

Beyond that, there’s a bit of sweetness, a nice but not overpowering carbonation, and not otherwise a whole lot to report… unless, like me, you’re a nondairy vegetarian who likes to cook with beer, in which case this is shaping up to be a good standby to keep in the fridge.

The same toasted notes that add a bit of interest in the pint glass seem to do a nice job of rounding out flavours in food, adding a bit of malty depth to dishes where veg stock would only add salt. And, since it’s pretty cheap, you’re not going to feel bad pouring half into the sauce pot and drinking the rest straight out of the bottle over the stove. Actually, having partaken of this one a couple times I can confidently say it tastes best when leaning over a burner set on medium-high heat.

So far, I’ve had best success using it to punch up vegan cheese sauce (this recipe, because sometimes everyone needs nuclear orange goo in their lives regardless of weird allergies, ok?), where it couples nicely with miso and aromatics, but the right sort of chilli would also benefit from some of this, I think.

Chances are pretty good I’ll report back.

Schilling Cider – Spiced Cider (& Chaider Revisited)

Schilling Spiced Cider & Chaider

Schilling Spiced Cider & Chaider

Big day for Bad Rider reviews: our first freebie! The kind folks at Schilling messaged us on Twitter recently to express their appreciation for our reviews, and even comped me a bottle of Spiced Cider from Schilling Cider House in Fremont after I mentioned wanting to compare it to the Chaider in last week’s review. Many thanks to Marc at the Cider House and to whoever manages Schilling’s Twitter account!

It is a little unseasonal to be drinking a Spiced Cider in February, but I’m hardly one to turn down free booze — especially when it’s For Science. And sure enough, now that I’m trying them side-by-side, the Chaider and the Spiced Cider really do have a lot in common.

Where the Chaider was cloudy, the Spiced Cider is a quite clear, a bit lighter in color, and a slightly stronger 6.9% ABV to Chaider’s 6.5%.

The aroma and flavor of both bear strong similarities of cinnamon and clove, though oddly I find the aroma and flavor of the two are in opposition when compared — the Spiced Cider smells more peppery than the Chaider, while the Chaider tastes more savory and complex.

I suppose it’s good for balance in either case: let the sweetness and cinnamon come through early in the aroma of the Chaider to balance the earthiness and spices to come in the taste, and let the Spiced Cider hold some kick in its aroma to offset the greater sweetness of the flavor.

Perhaps it’s just the associated of certain smells with pumpkin pie and eggnog and general holiday festivity, but there’s an aspect to the Spiced Cider that’s almost a little — eggy? Custard-y? It’s hard to capture and put down on paper. Perhaps it’s just the pumpkin notes mentioned on the bottle copy. In any case, it’s a smoother, softer, round-er sort of taste overall than the Chaider.

Both of these are good and interesting ciders — though my personal preference would be for the Spiced Cider more specifically during the winter holiday season and the Chaider as a more season-agnostic option. You can get either at Schilling’s Fremont location, or find a more local option via their site.

A damn fine cup of coffee (porter)

Dale Cooper would approve.

Special Agent Dale Cooper would approve.

The Specs: Tofino Brewing Co.’s Dawn Patrol Coffee Porter
6.5 per cent ABV, 650 mL, Winter seasonal


Yup, To-fine-o Brewing again. I can’t help it, guys. I’m a sucker for porters. Also, I was too lazy to make coffee on the morning of the day I tested this and by 5:30 p.m. was hurting for a cup of the black stuff in the worst way.

Lucky for me, Dawn Patrol delivers. This isn’t some run-of-the-mill ‘notes of chocolate and coffee’ beer. This is coffee as beer. My poor, under-caffeinated soul could not have asked for a purer fusion of the two.

First, it nails the scent. Imagine taking a whiff off a good bag of corse-ground beans, about a medium roast. There’s a bit of a beery background as well, but it’s predominantly coffee on the nose.

If you’ve ever had a really good cup of cold-brewed iced coffee, you’ll recognize a lot of the notes in this beer — which plays a bit like a sharp, fruity espresso, but with the rounder, mellower tones that come from a long, cold steep. Even the bitterness here is characteristic of coffee rather than beer.

If I didn’t know it’d actually be vile, I might assume this was cold brew with beer in it, rather than beer brewed with coffee. I think the darn thing even fixed my caffeine-withdrawal headache.

That’s not to say there’s nothing beery here. You’ve got a light carbonation, and a little bit of maltiness you’d be hard pressed to get from anything on offer at your average Starbucks. There are some background tones of vanilla as well, though they’re easy to miss in all the coffeecoffeecoffee excitement.

It should go without saying that this is not a beer for you if you don’t like coffee, but I’ll say it anyway. Don’t drink coffee? Don’t drink this… leave more of it for me.

Schilling Cider – Chaider

Schilling Chaider

Schilling Chaider

Do you like cider? Do you like chai? If someone poured both those things into a single glass would you not immediately recoil in horror but instead entertain a curious thought or two about how the result might taste?

If you answered ‘Yes’ to all of the above, congratulations! A) We have something in common, and B) this is the cider chaider for you!

It’s really, genuinely, a little surprisingly…not terrible. And I don’t just mean “not terrible” in the sense that I somehow managed to choke it down — it’s interesting and totally drinkable.

Chaider is a kissing cousin to the whole pumpkin spice cider family, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into, or think you might be into.

Cinnamon and cloves are light but noticeable in the aroma, and the spices turn make it cloudy amber in the glass.

There’s something about the flavor that’s more savory than your standard pumpkin spice set — cardamom, probably? — but it never gets too overpowering.

In fact, unless my memory is playing tricks on me, Schilling has managed to improve on last year’s chai cider recipe by moderating the overall spice level, making it less aggressive, more tempered and moderate. You’re definitely drinking chai cider, but it’s not going to reach out and demand the entirety of your attention.

(Some might call that a step backward, but I approve.)

I’d like to have tried this against their “Spiced Cider” winter seasonal to more precisely identify where the two differ, but I haven’t managed to get my hands on any of that one.

Think Chaider sounds interesting? Find some for yourself and give it a shot! And then tell Schilling what you think — I saw them asking on Twitter just yesterday whether anyone had tried it.

To-Fine-o

Dat label though.

Dat label though.

The Specs: Tofino Brewing Tuff Session Ale
5 per cent ABV, 650mL, regular series


I don’t pretend to know anything about the ins and outs of craft beer marketing, so I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason that Tofino Brewing only sells this session ale in 650mL bombers (in looking at their website, perhaps because this brewery only sells beers in bombers, period?)

But, just because it likely makes more financial sense doesn’t mean I can’t be sad about it, because Tuff session ale would be a beautiful six-pack beer.

The criticism I hear over and over from non-craft drinkers is that there aren’t a lot of craft beers you want to drink more than two pints of in a go.

Depending on your drinking habits, that may be an argument for your dark, bitter, challenging brews, but it’s the reason why even now I’m as likely to take something brewed on a macro scale to any house party lasting more than three hours. In some instances, beer isn’t meant to be the star of the show.

If you’ve been at the well of the craft brew too long and find yourself a little disappointed every time you have go back to the big guys, Tuff is a great choice. After all, session ale is just a fancy term for “beer you drink all night.”

This one in particular has a malty sweetness to it, followed up by just the littlest kick of hoppy bitterness, to remind you what kind of beverage you’re imbibing. The finish is clean, the carbonation not too heavy, the mouth feel smooth.

In other words, it’s exactly as chill a beer as you’d expect from a bottle with a surfboard on its label.

One quick note: The brewery’s website tells me this beer isn’t a particularly common find outside the Lower Mainland, though pretty much the full line of Tofino brews are available here in Kamloops at the Lansdowne Liquor Store, which is kicking some serious ass at the craft game lately.

(I’m so sorry about that pun  —A.)

#notallIPAs

Want some beer with your foam? Don't be like me.

Want some beer with your foam? Don’t be like me.

The Specs: Coal Harbour Brewing Co. Powell IPA
6.5 per cent ABV, 650mL


An IPA is a bit of a dangerous choice for this blog. Though 2014 was my year of hop discovery, IPAs are generally right at the edge of what I consider an acceptable beverage. The mediocre ones taste grassy and soapy, and where other people allegedly find interest my palate registers a blast of bitterness and little, if anything else.

But, on the recommendation of a brewhound at Kamloops City Hall, I ventured forth.

I will admit a small bias right off the top. My 1950s fridge has a pretty heavy door and a couple of harder than average latchings over the course of the day did nothing good for this beer. No beverage has ever cascaded from a bottle with the force of this IPA.

On the plus side, while wiping off the floor I noted it smells quite nice. Bit of a fruity tang to it, which usually bodes well. The colour’s quite good too — a bit amber, great against the tiles.

Compared to a lot of IPAs which cross my path, Powell is quite mild. I was bracing for the shock and awe of hops, and it didn’t ever show up. There’s a characteristic bitterness to it, but it’s not overpowering (though you will notice more of it as the beer comes up to temperature). More in the fore are juicy flavours of grapefruit, maybe a tinge of apricot.

Oh, and as you may have guessed, I’m pretty sure it’s very carbonated, even without a good ice box smackaround. I don’t think I’ve ever had a beer continue foam up so much that many minutes after being opened.

Overall, this is a really great place to start if like me you’re trying to expand your horizons, or if you enjoy a certain amount of bitterness — but only so much. Or, if you really need an excuse to clean your floors on a Monday night.

Nuts to you

But seriously what is that dude on the bottle's DEAL?

But seriously what is that dude on the bottle’s DEAL?

The Specs: Dead Frog Brewery (Aldergrove, B.C.) Nutty Uncle Stout
6.1 per cent ABV, 650 mL


So. Yeah. Peanut butter beer. That’s a thing.

When it comes down to it, I know this beer isn’t that weird. I’ve read news stories about American brewers making beers out of Count Chocula and Boo Berry cereals. A little nut butter? That’s nothing, especially since I love peanut butter. I might even consider peanut butter cups, which Dead Frog’s label so clearly evoke, the greatest candy of our generation.

And yet, man. Even taking a sip of this beer felt like a hurdle.

I took extra photos of my mug, I Skyped people, I sniffed the beer over and over, trying to decide whether I could smell peanuts or just the usual mix of malts and sundry common to your average B.C. stout.

Finally, the first sip.

Yup. Nuts.

Nutty Uncle is less peanut butter and more roasted nuts, with a certain smokiness to it on the first sips that I never quite shook off. As befits a stout, there are also notes of chocolate (coffee, as the brewery claims, not so much) though I wish they’d been milkier and rounder, the way Parallel 49’s pumpkin and milk chocolate porter manages. That’s chocolate in practice, where Nutty Uncle is chocolate in theory.

It’s sweet, but not incredibly — to the point where I almost wondered if more sugar wouldn’t have been worth it.

Overall, a peanut butter cup.

Kind of.

Ish.

As much as you can with a beer.

Yeah, OK, it’s weird. It’s totally weird. Super freaking weird. There is a picture of a dude who looks like a low budget Adam Sandler on the front of the bottle — I don’t know what I was expecting!

This I guess. Weirdness.

Props to you for inventiveness, Dead Frog. But to be honest now I mostly want a real peanut butter cup. But then again, when does one not?

(Also, tiny side rant: Strong beer again? Guys stop. Stop guys.)