Abyss & Coffee Girl

Abyss

After the release of my "12 Days of Abyss" posts, I was accused of buying, and then drinking, all of the Abyss in Portland. Sure, I drank a lot. But based on unbiased third-party research, it turns out that I only bought and drank 83% of that fateful 2nd small batch delivered to PDX at the end of January 2008. See?

But it's not over. On Monday, March 17 Belmont Station will be

"tapping two amazing imperial stouts, Deschutes' Abyss and Ft. George's Coffee Girl. More details will follow regarding tapping times, so check back soon."

Now, as much hype as Abyss has has earned, there are some out there who think that Coffee Girl is even better. Now, thanks to this tasting, you can be the judge. Either way, you'll be able to enjoy to huge beers.

12 Days of Abyss (Final Installment)

Welcome to the Abyss.

OK. I tried. It was a dare. Actually, it was a bet. But it was a bet without money, and that's pretty much just a dare. The idea was to buy a case of Deschutes' Abyss and drink one a day for 12 days. Simple. Or so it seemed.

In fact, I upped the ante and said, "12 days? I'm not an amateur! I can do this blindfolded by the end of the weekend." It was a Friday. Don't get me wrong, I knew what I was up against. I've had plenty of Imperial Stouts before. I've mixed them with meals, I've mixed them with other beers, and then I've mixed up my words like scrabble squares thrown randomly on the floor where my head was resting. When I called Matt and told him that he was right, that I was not up for this challenge, it came out "wdksjd imperial hsdfkljs iiej jkjdf nksadfn. Know what I'm sayin'?" Or at least that's what the saved voicemail says (Matt, you should probably go ahead and delete that. Seriously).

So, what have I learned? I can't really remember. I do know that The Abyss is worth the hype. It is a superb Imperial Stout that deserves all of the praise in the world. At about $1 for each ABV percentage point per bottle, it's not a cheap session beer (that's about $10 for a 22oz bottle for those of you who haven't been keeping up with the previous articles). That's pretty steep in many circles, but you actually have to look at it more as a bottle of wine when it comes to usage and price. Find a great food pairing, and split a bottle with a friend over dinner. Hell, split it with an enemy over dinner and you'll have a new best friend by the end of the meal.

So that wraps it up. The beer was great. The "12 Days" idea was terrible. Sorry for drinking 12% of the Abyss that made it to Portland. Keep an eye out for my next article entitled: "20 Portland IPAs in 20 Minutes, Bitch". Another bet from another bar...

12 days of Abyss (part 4) (DO NOT TYR THIS ATHOME!}

Tonight's intake (at home, on the couch, with a sitter):

1) Lazy Boy IPA (22oz)
2) Stone Old Guardian (22oz)
3) Stone Oaked Arrogant Bastard (12oz)
4) Deschutes' The Abyss (22oz)

OK. Normally, I'd segregate and enjoy my beers. Well, it's not like I'm not enjoying my beers, I'm just rushing a little. I haven't had a day off of my day job in 18 days, and my beer collection has been growing since I haven't had the time to sip. Now that I've got the time, I need to get through the backlog. And this only means one thing--work my way up to another Abyss. I've enjoyed it under other conditions, why not this condition?

So, what did this little experiment reveal? For sure, 78oz of beer can make you drunk. 78oz of strong beer can make you relly drunk. Super drnk. Plus, drink plenty of water--ounce of water per ounce of beer. Seriously, especially beers of this high octane (At this point, I'm basically talking to my self so that I remember to do this) . These beers will suck the moisture out of your brain until it's just a brutally painful rock rattling around in your skull the next morning.

Out.
Brett.

[Author's Note]: It's now the day after. Ouch. And what a bunch of BS rambling that is above. But, sometimes beer has an ugly side and I've left it here for all to see, much to my embarrassment. Oh well, I will stick by one thing above: water -- drink it.

12 Days of Abyss (Part 3)

So far, I've done a good job of talking about the idea of the beer, now I'm going to talk about the actual beer. Deschutes' The Abyss is categorized as an Imperial Stout. I'm going to slide it into the Russian Imperial Stout category as recognized by the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP).

Out of the bottle and into the glass...

Just like an IPA to India, a Russian Imperial Stout was overhopped and had a higher gravity to withstand the journey from England to Russia and surrounding regions. However, as many dimensions as an IPA may have, the Russian Imperal Stout can have many, many more. For example, an IPA brewed with black cherries ends up being more of a novelty than a by-the-guidelines IPA. Not that this type of experimentation can't produce a wonderful IPA, but strictly speaking, the beer is starting to leave the IPA category. With a Russian Imperial Stout, you can almost thow anything into the black void--fruits, spices, herbs, etc.--and still remain within the category. The complex, roasty malt bill and high alcohol content are usually enough to calm down a lot of other ingredients and push them to the subtler areas of the brew.

The BJCP Style Guidelines say that the overall impression of a Russian Imperial Stout should be: "An intensely flavored, big, dark ale. Roasty, fruity, and bittersweet, with a noticeable alcohol presence. Dark fruit flavors meld with roasty, burnt, or almost tar-like sensations. Like a black barleywine with every dimension of flavor coming into play."

The elusive bottle of Deschutes' The Abyss.

Deschutes Brewery says "This exceptionally popular imperial stout, aged in French oak, pinot noir, and bourbon barrels since March 2007, has immense depth with its rich and complex flavors. True to its name, subtle notes of coffee, chocolate, molasses and licorice pull you in deeper and deeper. Cherry bark and vanilla bean added during the dry-hopping process are the proverbial “cherry on top”!"

You'll definitely notice all of these flavors and more, especially if you pair it with different foods. This is not a session beer, so relax and enjoy it with your favorite meal or snack.

12 Days of Abyss (Part 2)

11 bottles of beer in a box, 11 bottles of beer, take one out...

You'll notice something strange in the photo below. When I got the case home, there was already one missing. Don't worry, it's not a mistake. Within ten minutes of purchase, I had already given one away. A friend of mine had his last day at work the same day that the Abyss appeared. As a fellow homebrewer and beer lover, I had to leave one on his desk as his going away present.

But to be fair to this adventure, I'll be making up for the missing bottle by replacing it with a growler of Abyss directly from Bend. Yeah, I know. How much luck can one person have?

12 Days of Abyss (Part 1)

By now, everyone has either uttered the word, or heard it whispered in the dark corners of your favorite bar: abyss. As soon as the word hits the air, it evaporates into a ghost of a rumor, a tall tale, a big fish.

It's nice when it's cold enough outside to keep beer cold.

Riding on a huge wave of publicity generated by Men's Health magazine recognizing The Abyss as the World's Best Stout, this beer is damn hard to find. Well, it's actually not hard to find, it's hard to find before it's gone. This beer is walking out of most places by the case as soon as it hits the shelves. I bought mine before it even hit the shelf. It was sitting in a shrink-wrapped pallet at the end of a non-beer related aisle at the store. There were two cases, one of which had already been infiltrated by the employees before leaving the loading dock! I inquired about the unopened case and they gave it up without a fight.

I can see a beer of this caliber stirring up emotions in different cities around the world, but here in Portland? Here, you are never more than 7 steps from a great beer. So how can one beer have this much of an impact in a city where great beer is ubiquitous? Now, don't get me wrong, it's a great beer. I had last years on tap here in Portland. I also had it straight from the teat in Bend. Delicious, strong, and a great example of a multi-barrel aged Imperial Stout.

You can hear the sigh from accross the house when my girlfriend opens up the fridge to see this.

So, what's all the hubub, bub? Well, I'm going to find out. I've got twelve 22oz bottles to "test" in different settings, possibly paired with food, probably paired with other beer. I'm not sure where this journey is going to take me, but I'm almost certain that at some point along the way, I will hallucinate--most likely if I pair and Abyss with another Abyss. So, over the next two weeks or so, I will be checking in with you to deliver the savory details.

Open Letter to Deschutes Brewing

Dear Deschutes Brewing,

I've just read that you will be opening a brewery in the Pearl, here in the beer capital of the world. Too many breweries? Never! I say welcome!

A mug from the 2007 Bend Brewfest, a stone's throw from the massive Deschutes brewing operation on the river.

We Portlander's love beer, and because we have so many great breweries in town, we can be quite snobbish. So what? We have high standards. While that might make us outcasts at some parties, it's good for the industry, driving it to make better and better beer.

But with Deschutes, it's not the beer I'm worried about. I stop by on every trip to Bend and the quantity and quality of your beer is always amazing. Hell, even your bottled beer has remained true to your customers, not wavering the least in the face of commercial watered down swill. What I'm really worried about is your potential social cave in by moving to Portland and forgetting who your real supporters are.

Let's walk through an example with a fictional brewery, let's, uh, call them PortBridge. Let's say that they used to have a great place: long community benches, great pizza, and great character and atmosphere. Stumbling into this place, in the midst of a sea of abandoned buildings, would be surprisingly cozy and always a stop when guests were in town. Then, let's say, they closed down for about 11 months for remodelling. Everyone would be waiting, wondering how much awesomeness they could pack into the new design. It turns out, they could only fit zero awesomeness.

Let's imagine, that the new version of this fictional place turned it's back on it's long time supporters and decided to cater to a different crowd. Yeah, the beer was the same, but everything else changed, for the worse. It used to be cozy, now it's uncomfortable. It's now a restaurant/bakery/coffee place that happens to have a brewery. Hypothetically, of course. And, hypothetically, I'd never go back.

Now, in this theoretical world, there are market forces at play. I understand that brewing is a hard market and it's tough to stay alive, but the place where you brew and got your start should be reflective of the people that got you there. Go ahead, open up this type of place as a satellite in Seattle or somewhere, but not here. Don't piss where you play, isn't that it?

Anyway, the point is, we already love your beer. If you brew it, we will come. Unless, that is, you stray too far from the beer side of things. Keep this in mind: your place should reflect that you happen to have a restaurant in your brewery, not a brewery in your restaurant. Yeah, it's a subtle distinction, but it's a distinction that Portlander's will make.

Sincerly,
Brett

Beertown Frown

I'm torn up about this. Really. I think I'm going to take a half day at work, just to ponder (and, of course, drink). What I probably won't drink though, is Beertown Brown, Bridgeport's newest brew to hit the streets.

Bridgeport Brewpub and Bakery, Downtown Portland.

First of all, let me say that this beer is a good representation of the style: Northern English Brown Ale. But it's the Northern English blandness that's the problem. You know where you can go to get a Northern English Ale? Northern England. If someone is going to take the time and effort to release a new bottled style in Portland, and use the Beertown moniker, then good god, make it a Northwest version of the style.

Portland has earned the name Beertown, let's not tiptoe around it. We need to use this as a catalyst to show the outside what we have to offer. I see two ways to go about this. The first way would be to get together and come up with a new style to add to the books: Northwest Ale. What would this be? That's for the brewers to decide. The second option is to amend the current styles: Northwest Brown Ale, Northwest Pale Ale, etc. Again, what these would be is up to the brewers.

As a regional and world leader in brewing, that's exactly what we should be doing: leading. We are currently in a position to direct the industry and there are a lot of eyes on us. Without work, we won't stay on top forever. Now is not the time to be timid.

Resting on our Laurels

I was in a market last night looking to pick up a six pack when I noticed myself leaning toward choosing some California beers. Specifically, Lagunitas and Stone varieties. As I stood there I thought to myself that California has a lot of great bottled beers. And that scared me.

The all too infrequently seen bottle of Deranger from Laurelwood Brewing Company.

Portlanders love big beers. We are situated on a latitude where hops are abundant, and this is reflected in the beer we produce. But, as with all great beers, this hop character needs a foil, and that reflection is malt. So in the Spring and Summer, we see hugely hoppy beers with raised malt to balance. The reverse is also true. The strong ales of winter use a lot of malt and then require a lot of hop bitterness to offset the sweetness. Of course, there is a large amount of variation on this idea depending on the resulting beer style. But you get my point.

A few California brewers are bottling their beer and selling it with a "fuck you" attitude: Don't like it, then don't buy it, but we're still going to make it. And a lot of the beer is great. Very much like the beer we brew here in town. The difference is that our great beer doesn't make it into bottles and get sent out to take over the world. A lot of what leaves Portland is commercially tested, focused-grouped styles that don't necessarily represent the great experimentation that Portland brewers are known for. It's more of a "Here's what you asked for" attitude which doesn't necessarily represent what's really going on in the city.

Don't scold me for leaving out a couple of important facts. I know that bottling isn't as easy as a snap of the fingers. And there is a hell of a lot of logistics in distribution. There is also a lot of economics and politics in both. Plus, there are exceptions to this rule. I think that Bridgeport makes a great IPA, both draft and bottled. Hair of The Dog also has a great lineup of big beers that leave Portland in bottles.

Overall though, the bottles that are leaving our state's border from Portland are not representative of what's being brewed here, and that ratio needs to increase. Not only to to keep our title of Beer Capital of the World, but also as a way to put California back in it's place. I don't mind banding together with Washington to help the Northwest take over the beer world, but I will not hold hands with California as a West Coast brotherhood.

In fact, let this be the gauntlet, much like the mid-nineties Death Row v. Bad Boy rivalry: California, we can take you. You may try to imitate our attitude and beer, but that's all it is, imitation!

Point, Portland.

All Mixed Up But Not Confused

I'm going to tackle another sensitive issue here today. So, if you don't have a strong stomach, look away. If you're still with me--my topic today is beer mixing.

To mix or not to mix?

This subject matter seems to be very polarizing. Some people mix, the rest find this to be an abomination. Now, usually, there is no right answer to these types of questions, but this time there is: mixing is a good idea.

Now that I've said it, I'd like to clarify my position. First of all, the mixing that I'm speaking of is post brewing mixing--it simply means some from one tap, some from another. Very similar to the tradition of black and tan, half and half, or black and Sam. These traditional mixes however, usually rely on a visual aspect as well--there is almost always a clear separation of the two beers in the pint glass. In fact, there are tools to help a bartender pour these drinks properly. I don't much care what my beer looks like, it's the taste I'm after. The mixing I'm talking about is the homogeneous type--pour it, swirl it, whatever. Bell Biv Devoe said it best: "Smack it up, flip it, rub it down." You get the idea.

There are many brewers and drinkers out there who find that this concept goes against the natural beer purity laws: "I've brewed a Winter Ale, you'll drink a Winter Ale." But this also goes against Portland's experimental nature. We love when brewers experiment and try new ideas. Beer mixing is the consumer's way to take part in the experimentation as well.

Now, I'm not recommending that the average drinker go out and start mixing every beer that they order. This is not a fad. This isn't what the cool people are doing. To mix properly, you must know your beers intimately. One of my favorite mixes is a dark malty winter ale and a hop heavy IPA. During the winter, when I've made the switch to darker beers, I sometimes still want that hop nose of a great IPA. You can't just grab random beers and pouring them together, you must be well acquainted with each individually. You need to know the subtle characteristics of each part of the equation before evaluating their sum. This is for professionals only.

Experiment. Have fun. Support Portland beer!