Friday Bullets For The End Of 2010 And 2000’s

Remember all the fuss 11 years ago about whether the millennium ended with the first minute of the first day of 2000 or 2001? Prigs aplenty had their view and most people sensibly had not a care for what they said. But today is different. There is no argument after midnight tonight that somehow the first decade of this century continues. It is done and, frankly, aren’t we well rid of it? Global recession after bubble after terror attacks after Y2K. Good bye.

We are digging out now from a decade of crap. Tonight is the beginning of that, the beginning of something defined by that digging out. Yes sirree. But what? It is another decade without a name. The teens? But 2011 is only a tween by that logic. If the last ten years seemed like we were being ruled, by turns, by the rage and joys of a pre-schooler with a wet diaper and no bottle will the next ten be awkward, gangly, gloomy and pimpled? Will that be an improvement?

  • What did I like this year? It was a big year for my internet writing as it turned out. While I seem to have moved heartily over to the beer blog and lost the daily habit here, I finally got more active on Facebook and Twitter, too.
  • Conversely, I read a huge amount for the first time in years. Histories, aboriginal social and legal theory as well as a bit of the languages, US constitutional writing, some baseball, everything I could find about Albany ale but a lot less about current politics.
  • I got out and about a bit but a bit less than in years past. No great push into the mid-west or the US south. Maybe in 2011. There are just too many humans to move these days. We have gone from a room in a motel to a junior suite in a hotel to two basic rooms in hotels with dreams of two junior suites. I should take up camping. I will never take up camping.
  • Politics depressed me. In Canada, we are led by the dull. In the US, the national campaign was bungled. Only in the UK was there a new thing. But that thing is posed to crush before it shows whether there is any benefit to come from the crushing.
  • I can’t think of an album of the year. Listened to a lot of music but not sure what record stood out. I like “Empire State Of Mind” a lot but only because the title implies that it includes the whole state which means somehow that Watertown is included in its embrace. I could have played more banjo but I played a fair bit.
  • Sports? Sox did well with what they had. Story of my life as a fan – except for the Leafs. They just suck.

I didn’t know that this would be my year in review when I started it but, really, what news occurs between Christmas and New Year’s Eve? Nothing. Well, weather news, North Korea still postures and someone got ripped off in an unimportant bowl game. Maybe that.

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Galeville Grocery Shuts After 84… or 156 Years

galevilleMy math is pretty bad but not as bad as the news out of Liverpool in central New York near Syracuse that the Galeville Grocery has shut after being a grocery store since 1926 and a building since 1854. Reader Jack forwarded me last Friday’s news in an email earlier this week:

Even into this week, this storehouse turned store was a draw for customers prowling tightly drawn aisles, seeking canned goods, lottery tickets, plastic containers of bread crumbs, foreign and domestic beers, pool supplies, Italian bread, meats, sandwiches. You name it. But life moves ever forward and sometimes, there’s no time for nostalgia. Galeville Grocery becomes a part of the local Byrne Dairy family. It gets a new building in 2011, one designed to look like the current, but with 21st century touches to reach a 21st century shopper. The floors won’t creak and the cramped checkout counter will likely be larger. The aisles will be wider and the selection, some of it already with the Byrne Dairy name on it, may not be as wide and deep, but convenient, fast and easy. We’ll likely see some of the same, familiar faces.

Gee, I’m a 21st century shopper and I kind of liked the old place. I’ve been stopping there since at least 2004 soon after we moved to Ontario. I always seemed to find a well priced beery surprise I hadn’t seen elsewhere. And there was the service beyond even the counter guy loading your trunk for you. I really appreciated that time that I drove back 30 miles after realizing I didn’t have my receipt for the border declaration to Customs Canada – only to watch the staff dive into the trash to find it. But then there was the sad news of the passing of owner Bernie Rivers this past summer and one can imagine the prime location and all the good will lead to a great offer for the property. Don’t know if good beer sales will continue especially with the move Wegman’s has made over the last few years to fill central New York demand. I’ll keep an eye on it but it’s probably the end of an era.

Twenty Years Ago, A Christmas Eve In Scotland

One of my favorite Christmas Eves was twenty years ago tonight, in Gullane, East Lothian, Scotland. I was visiting my uncle, auntie and cousins and had settled into a week long stay. It didn’t take long for it to seem like to everyone in the village I was that “coosin frae Gan-ee-der.” People shouted hello to me from across the street, a colonial vestige of something, a bit of all their people who had gone away. I had been there a few years before by myself so was renewing old friendships but this time I had come there from a new direction – from Poland where I had been teaching English as a second language in a small city on the Baltic coast. And I’m still married to the guest I brought along, the one I had met only a few weeks before, back there well east of Germany where the Soviets still had tanks. All in all, a complex bit of culture shock going on: from the nutty affluence of North America to the balance of hard luck and new hope world of the land keeking out from behind the Iron Curtain and then on to somewhere in between, an old village in the old country in winter.

In that village there was a pub. The Golf Inn. Down the street and around the corner from the family home most evenings we played pool, drank a lot of Guinness and sat around and talked night after night with family and friends, greens keepers, university students back from college all curious about what we had seen in the East. We were there on Christmas Eve, too, dressed up a bit more and well fed by auntie, packed in with the neighbours likewise having a great old time when, at 11 pm, without any warning to we two Canadians in the corner, all moved as one across the road to the Church of Scotland, the Kirk, for the service. It was magic. Never been in a church before or since after a night filled with beer and friends. Before and after the dour sermon, there were great big men swaying in kilts, well oiled from the evening to that point. They sang in congregation and beefy harmony in great booming voices. Unlike this night, twenty years later in another church in another country, I am now not sure if they sang the Viking meets Italian carol “In the Bleak Midwinter” but they may well have:

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

After church, we were with the half that did not pour back into the pub to continue. We had to get back. There were plenty of guests in the house besides ourselves, generations of relatives that all had to get up in the morning as one. We walked together back round the corner and up the street in the cold still dark night full of the singing, the beer, the night.

Fuller’s Vintage Ale ’05 v.’10, South-like London, England

I have been wondering what to do with these single boxes of Fuller’s Vintage Ale I stick away every year. Seems a shame to blow them all in one binge even if shared with pals and plenty of notes. Not much to learn there. I needed a plan, a system. So, with that in mind, I figured that I would open the current version as well as the version from five years ago. That sounds like a plan. And it is a recurring theme. Just what the modern blogger needs: plans and themes. The boxes are note worthy in themselves if only to note that someone took the time to make the font on the box a little more elegant between 2005 and now – though it does not carry over to the card inside. And interesting to note that the 2005 is #10599 while this year’s model is #026673, expectant of its siblings growing into six figures. But let’s not get bogged down in packaging. Unless you really want to. No? Fine.

The 2005 opens with a fizt and immediately gives off a nutty sherry aroma…rummy even. Plenty of frothy oranged off-white head. In the mouth, I first get marmalade and sticky bun. There is a very nice light astringency around the edge. Nutty with almond a bit like Hungarian Tokay. Very rich with a pleasant candied quality but clearly working its way yeastily beastily through itself. The malt has pear juiciness in there, too. Before the pear shows up, in the first wash there is a hot wave that is almost tobacco. As it opens the tobacco and pear morph into a touch of licorice. In the finish there are complex twiggy things going on, something like hedge.

By comparison, the 2010 is simpler, heftier and sweetly cloying, the sugars not having broken down for half a decade of thermostatic abuse in my basement stash. Even the head is more of a uniform fine cream rather than the more bubbly open froth of its elder. The bitterness is more generalized and slightly rougher. The back of the throat heat a notch more pronounced. No sense of the pear in the malt at all but maybe bread crustiness instead. Good and pleasant but clearly a bit young by comparison like a cheese that has yet to develop its bite. Frosh.

Having said all that, I still have 80% of each bottle left. I feel like I should do some tests upon the fluid with, say, litmus strips… or maybe observe the reaction of small penned animals asked to bed down in the boxes laid down amongst the smelly wood shavings. But what can a data like that tell you? Look at the photo above. Science is not all its cracked up to be. Both beers are very moreish, rich and worth opening at this time of year. Each could stand up to old cheddar or stilton very nicely at the end of a big holiday meal. I expect I will go buy more 2010 and hide it from myself. I will. I’ll be a year away from the beginning of paying university bills by the time it’s ready. Better buy lots. They’ll probably be drinking them by then, too.

While we are thinking about it, it does make you think whether any nation on this planet can express the hidden capacities of good rich malt like the English can.

Obviousness Update: Monsieur Noix of Ireland calls me out over the geography but I am mere puppet in this respect, parroting the brewery itself.

Click on the image to the right as to the evidence at hand.

To What End, The Traveling Beer Writer’s Argument?

I was shaking my head at another piece of Roger Protz’s writing last night. This time it was a bit on Chimay. I like Chimay as much as anyone so my concerns do not relate to the brewer – but you will recall that Mr. Protz is hardly monastic himself. He has a temper and a lack of discretion when it comes to other members of humanity. And he can shock with both error and recreational rudeness. So, it was with that guilty pleasure one has following the misfortune of others that I read this early paragraph about the most commercial of the Trappist monasteries, Chimay:

Some of the criticism, on websites in particular, is couched in a style of vulgar abuse that doesn’t warrant attention. But a number of serious and well-disposed writers have also levelled the criticism that beer quality has declined.

Note those last four words: “…beer quality has declined.” After completing them, Protz goes on for a thousand words or so, writing in a rather hostile tone, making arguments that would lead you to suppose that quality has not changed let alone declined. But then he writes the words (typo his): “Sample of Red and Blue that I have tasted in Britain recently have been less complex than I remember them.” Less complex? Isn’t that usually one example of what one might describe as a decline in quality? Why is the argument structured in this way? Why does he posture and accuse when in the end he is essentially agreeing with the point he is attacking? And why does he use this sort of summation, avoiding natural causal connection:

That, I believe, is the result of some change and slight diminution of complexity in the beers, not a sell-out by the monks to the forces of commercialism. I am well aware that this is unlikely to satisfy those who prefer the conspiracy theory of history.

Isn’t the proper idea for that sentence the more active “cause” not the passive “result” – and isn’t what has been “caused” by the brewery’s intentional change in fermentation processes a loss of complexity and therefore a decline in beer quality? Isn’t that the news here? Why the abandonment of objective analysis? With the given choice of argument and structure – not to mention the mix of accusation and hostility with the apologist’s agenda – what are we left with? A muddle. To what end, I have no idea.

An Interesting Story About Those Importing Dorks

It’s funny when arseholes tell you that you are only treated as a fool because you don’t understand things as profoundly as they do. In web design the arsehole’s joke went like this: “Funny? If you understood that joke on as many levels as I do, you’d really know what funny meant.” This article on the Shelton Brothers empire-ette has that particular funk:

“I hate beer writers,” he said. “You can ask them; they hate me, too. They call me arrogant and opinionated. They think I’m a real asshole. But, hey, what can you expect? I was trained as a lawyer.” By doing little more than parroting the marketing-speak of advertising companies, Dan believes American beer writers are largely to blame for an industry and drinking public that’s more taken with gimmickry than artistry. “The attitude seems to be, ‘It’s all good.’ No one’s willing to criticize a beer they don’t like, and when I do, I’m told I’m just trying to sell the beers I import. I’ve had fights with beer reviewers who want to believe that you can’t be objective about beer. It’s all subjective, they say. You like what you like.”

Oh dear. As a lawyer, I can see it. Can you? Anyone who actually says “I was trained as a lawyer” has moved well into the arsehole-esque zone. Reminds me of another joke: “What do you call a doctor who got “D” in anatomy? Doctor.” You get why the verb “to shelt” was invented, right? Don’t get me wrong. I have liked many of the High and Mighty beers of Will Shelton discussed in the article and also plenty of the beers that the brotherhood has imported. I have liked some a lot. But not all of them. Their business may be successful and have taken a lot of hard work but one can still ask valid questions about value and selection. In that they are like most other brewers and importers. Actually, in every way they are like that. Because that is what they are.

It’s an interesting counterpoint, when you think of it, to the emotional tug of that really swell guy who is the face of the new and time shifting TV show Brew Masters. Read the tweets. Giggly people want to know Sam. He’s so great. Who wouldn’t want a fawning relationship? Sheltons? Arseholes – but they’re so deep. Those in the know want an abusive dependent relationship. Why does anyone care? We shouldn’t. If you care about the personality of those who who make and provide your beer, well, you should ask if you have the same concern for those who make your cheese, your car’s tires or your socks. You don’t, do you. Make the beer prove itself each time.

Oh Dear – The “Cake Boss” Of Beer Gets Panned

What a disappointing graphic. But appropriately so – don’t you think? See, I have mentioned how I have been utterly unthrilled by the prospect of a TV show about Dogfish Head and their business operations. This is not to say you should not be thrilled by the show and not to say that I do not like some beers by Dogfish Head – though not all. It’s just that the whole Cake Boss thing has been done. The format is tired. My chosen photo captures that, doesn’t it. Besides – I love the beer not the brewer. Celebrity brewer infomerical? That’s a bit sad. So, give me something new. Give me Man v. Food any day. Or maybe a show about craft beer or even the history and taxonomy of beer generally. But not this:

…the series focuses on Sam Calagione, the proprietor of the Delaware-based Dogfish Head Brewery. A telegenic and voluble type, Calagione waxes eloquent when he describes his company’s mission. He claims that Americans are the kind of people who refuse to accept what’s shoved down their throats, and that’s why we demand distinctive beer. Then he goes ahead and contradicts that by noting that craft beers are only 5 percent of the U.S. market. He says the philosophy of the company is stated in a long quotation from Emerson about individualism that is posted on an office wall. Since it’s too many words to put on a bottle, the company’s motto is “Off-centered ales for off-centered people.” Calagione’s skill at crafting baloney is put to good use in the first episode, in which Sony Records commissions him to create a beer to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the release of Miles Davis’ album “Bitches Brew.” Inspired by jazz, which he says is a mixture of African and American elements, Calagione decides to blend an Ethiopian honey beer and an American imperial stout, even though the aforementioned statistic would suggest that the quintessential American beer would be a bland, fizzy mass-produced lager.

That’s from Media Life magazine‘s web site. A hat tip to Andy for mentioning it on Facebook. Not a source that has a particular agenda or at least one that has any skin in the craft beer game. And what about the name, Brew Masters. Is it a claim? Any why the plural? I would have thought that that time would have been reserved for a show that might talk about a number of masters of brewing from breweries around the world. That was the show I was hoping for – Stan and Ron wandering the globe meeting the beery, getting a zillion perspectives. It appears my disappointment in regards to the scope of and planning for the show may be matched by results. Oh dear.

But, as with my not giving of the rat’s ass about Beer Wars and then seeking your input on the experience, you may have a different point of view. And maybe a better graphical representation of your mood about the whole thing. You should. You better. Let me know what it is.

What Is Multiculturalism A Euphemism For Today?

Three friends of mine from undergrad ended up respectively marrying a Brit, a Slovak and a practicing Hindu. The weddings were all marked by their twin cultures and no one, as far as I can tell, lost an eye. A sister-in-law is a Swede. My folks are immigrants. So, I always wonder about these sorts of statements:

…that he considers Muslim fundamentalists an unwelcome element in liberal society is the kind of thing that gets Mr. Steyn so readily branded as a bigot, particularly in Canada where a worship of his most hated term “multiculturalism” has, he says, utterly shrivelled the limits on public discussion. That may, however, only prove his point. “It’s a sick fetish,” he says. “The idea that multiculturalism simply on its own terms is a virtue in itself is completely preposterous.”

What I don’t understand is how “multiculturalism” in this use differs from immigrants who practice Islam? Does Steyn have an issue with Filipinos or Hungarians or Peruvians? If there was no Islam and everything is the same, does he think we have the same issue? I am not sure. Because of that, I really have no idea what he is talking about. Which makes it hard to take him seriously. He may have a good point, one worth considering, if he ever got down to finer strokes. Instead we wallow in silly statements like “… diversity-obsessed Canadians have become generally sympathetic to the plight of Omar Khadr.” I’d say most Canadians have no idea who Omar Khadr is – just natterers. Just those who need it for an illustration of something else, the pre-established conclusion. How hasn’t that approach to thought “utterly shrivelled the limits on public discussion?”

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Delaware: Theobroma, Dogfish Head, Milton

Mark Dredge has a piece in this morning’s Guardian out of the UK entitled “The Beer of Yesteryear” which scans the range of recent brewing efforts to recreate beers older than, say, 500 years ago. These are beers which use ingredients available to former culture including Theorbrama by Dogfish Head. I had one on hand and thought I would see if it has any appeal. Mark tells me:

Theobroma, part of Dogfish’s Ancient Ale series, is based on “chemical analysis of pottery fragments found in Honduras which revealed the earliest known alcoholic chocolate drink used by early civilizations to toast special occasions.” It contains Aztec cocoa powder and cocoa nibs, honey, chillies and annatto.

The bottle adds that it is based on chemical residual evidence from before 1100 BC with additives from later Mayan and Aztec drinks. So, seeing as the Aztecs come from about 1300 to 1600 AD, it is sort of a made up mish mash. Its as much a traditional drink as one from, say, that one Eurotrash era that stretched from the Dark Ages of around 800 AD to the world of George Jetson in the year 2537 AD. That would be an excellent era… right?

Well, as a beer it is a bit of a disappointment as well. Booze overwhelms pale malt which is undercut by the exotic herbs all of which has an oddly “beechwood aged” tone to it. I get the cocoa. I get the honey. But I don’t care all that much. It leaves me disappointed like that imperial pilsner experiment of Dogfish Head’s in 2006. Only moderate respect from the BAers. A bit of a boring beer that may be the result of a fantastically interesting bit of archeological work. Who knows? Maybe the sense of taste of those Central American practitioners of human sacrifice wasn’t as haute as one might have expected. Or maybe it paired well.

What Does It Mean When We All Talk About Style?

Now Stan has jumped into the fray on the usefulness of “style.” It reminds me of all the little words we use to convey something other than the personal experience: expert, connoisseur, judge. There is so often a downside to any of these things. Consider what Hemingway said of “aficionado“:

The aficionado, or lover of the bullfight, may be said, broadly, then, to be one who has this sense of the tragedy and ritual of the fight so that the minor aspects are not important except as they relate to the whole. Either you have this or you have not, just as, without implying any comparison, you have or have not an ear for music. Without an ear for music the principle impression of an auditor at a symphony concert might be of the motions of the players of the double bass, just as the spectator at the bullfight might remember only the obvious grotesqueness of a picador…

So, there are two things in there. First, unless you see the whole context, including the negative, you do not see the thing in itself. Second, not everyone will see the whole thing: “either you have this or you have not.” I accept this. But I do not accept where it is taken to lead, which are inevitably forms of exclusive, excluding superior capacity. The thing lumped together as “expertise.”

The thing is… I have never met one of these craft beer experts. I’ve met lots of interesting and pleasant and hardworking people but never an expert. It is perhaps natural that people would want to lead or be seen to lead given that beer is such an immersive topic. It reaches into you like good radio, consistently generates conviviality, pervades our extended northern culture and powers a good segment of the economy. Yet it is also a fraud in ways that experts might not be comfortable acknowledging. It can dope us, distract us and place us behind the wheel of a car. It can affect your health and too often costs too much. It engenders the flimflam of celebrity and may be making suckers of us all.

For me, an idea like “style” is great if it serves your particular hobby interest in good beer. So, if you like to judge and enjoyment of being a judge is your entry to the subject, well, go ahead and have 2,000 “styles” for all I care. But if you are an impressionist and want to record your personal perceptions of experience, that is just as valuable and style is pretty much irrelevant. After all, a poem is as useful as the textbook. If you want to play at aligning flavours in solids and fluids and call it “pairing” feel free but you will notice that actual taste of the beer and food is so particular that “style” quickly starts being a bit thick for practical purposes. And finally but perhaps most tellingly, if you wish to reach into history, you will find that “style” is a moving target and in the end a disappointment.

As Stan has noted, all this talk of style is one of the most interesting examples of the beery discourse. A evening seminar was given this week in England and the English-speaking beery world was set abuzz. Somewhat antithetically, too. Because if there were such things as fixed styles, experts and the rest the seminar would have been a lecture and no one would have needed to discuss it further.