With the autumnal equinox come and gone, and foul weather haunting Chapel Hill for half a week, we can officially say that summer is through. That means that fall is kind of here (or maybe not yet, or maybe sort of, or maybe he’s thinking about it) and it’s the time of the year that we pagan souls love most: harvest time. The harvest is a very special time all throughout the beer world, but it means different things in different places. In honor of this year’s assuredly diverse harvest, the Brew Ha Ha will be all over the place as well, trying to fight its ADD and focus on a consistent beer theme, but probably failing miserably. At the very least we will (mostly) restrict ourselves to seasonal and limited beers, so get your hands on these babies while supplies last, or prepare for a long, hard, thirsty winter.
We begin with a simple musing, a thought that occurred to me earlier today. It was half past noon and I was unashamedly pouring my “before-class beer,” a can of Guinness draught, widget clinking blissfully away. Once the pouring was finished I undertook my usual ritual of holding the full glass up to light, admiring the internal beauty of a vessel hardly worthy of its contents. It was a sight I’ve seen a million times before—the tiny, mocha-colored nitrate bubbles of Ireland’s most famous export sinking
curiously downwards, forming a liminal region between the dark black depths of its hell and the impenetrably thick cloud of its heaven. Then, as sometimes happens, a new thought sprang fully formed out of this familiar image: I was staring at a gem, a Tiger’s Eye to be exact. The transition of colors, the mesmerizing beauty, it was all there. Then I took the thought a step further. They say it takes nearly two minutes to pour the perfect pint of Guinness out of a tap, far longer than most (probably any) other beers. In tap terms this is called a “double pour,” and it takes the bartending equivalent of an epoch in geologic time. Is Guinness even a beer at all then? Or is it something more durable, forged deep underground in a crucifix of heat and pressure and time like its metamorphic twin? I don’t rightly know, but when drinking at 12:30 on a Thursday, such speculations can be pretty convincing.
Enough with the poetry, on to the beer! I picked up three different bottled
brews at the Carrboro Beverage Company on Thursday with an eye to seasonal
offerings. Here’s what I came up with.
Duck-Rabbit Märzen:
Straight outta Farmville, NC (no known relation to the Facebook game), Duck-Rabbit brings you this amber Märzen, a traditional any-time-of-the-year-but-summer beer popularly served at Oktoberfest, which is occurring in Munich at this very moment. Duck-Rabbit’s take on the brew, which is a stronger style of lager, is medium bodied with a mildly malty aroma, a sweet finish and little head. Still, for a beer with little hop flavor it’s pretty pushy, boldly announcing its presence in comparison to its silent, chaste and obedient lager cousin, the pilsner. I couldn’t imagine drinking copious amounts of this Märzen, which is in violation of the very principle of an Oktoberfest beer, but it gets points for being reasonably priced (at least per bottle, at $1.90). Pair it with wurst (sausage), schweinshaxe (ham hock) and sauerkraut, and you’ll be in Jerry heaven.
Terrapin Pumpkinfest:
The turtle boys from Athens, GA have gone out of their way to combine two famous seasonal beers into one mediocre monster, mushing up a pumpkin beer with an Oktoberfest lager (most likely another Märzen). It’s certainly aromatic, giving off gourd and all-spice must like a loaf of your grandmother’s pumpkin gingerbread in heat. It’s even got a combined malty and hoppy finish that’s nothing if it isn’t well-rounded. So what makes it mediocre? Well, with the potent possibilities of such an unusual combination, it just doesn’t live up to its potential. Aside from a mild sense of its orange namesake, it’s not very noticeable on the palate. By the end of the bottle I was left with a feeling that enthusiasts of pumpkin beer and purists of the German style alike would be alienated.
Anderson Valley Imperial IPA:
The perfect IPA is the holy grail of craft beer. This double IPA from northern California is no grail, but it’s not shabby either. The guy at the Carrboro Beverage Company told me that it wasn’t an overpoweringly citrusy IPA and he was spot on. Though it’s a little fruity on the nose, it’s not overwhelming in aroma or taste. In fact, the aroma is most noticeable as the pleasant bitterness of the hoppy body wraps itself around the back of the tongue. This bitterness has staying power on the palate, but the body as a whole is deceptively mild for its high 8.7% alcohol content. It’s just begging to be paired with California dates, kalamata olives or roast duck. It’s also a limited release, so if you sleep on it you might miss it entirely.
That’s it for the Brew Ha Ha this week. Be sure to catch the story in next Thursday’s Dive on the World Beer festival coming to Durham. Until then, happy drinking.
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