What's Jayme drinking?

I have a confession: I like pumpkin ales. That probably goes along with the fact that I like pumpkin a great deal on its own--pumpkin pie, of course, but stuffed pumpkin, roast pumpkin, pumpkin seeds... I adore squashes in general, and to me, pumpkin is king of the squashes. In fact, when I first started homebrewing 20 years ago now, I got the notion to brew some beer with pumpkin in it. Realize this was before pumpkin-flavored beers flooded the market every October like they do now. It was probably 10 years after that I first saw a commercial pumpkin brew for sale anywhere. I never actually brewed my own pumpkin beer, though. The reason pumpkin beer gets a bad rap, I'm convinced, is the fact that so much of it is, well, shit. There are really, really bad pumpkin beers out there, rushed to market to capitalize on a fad. Finding a good one amidst all the dross just isn't worth the effort most of the time. But I was in the mood today, and decided to take a gamble.

Strange Land Brewery in Austin puts out some interesting brews. I don't always like them, but I appreciate their invention. When I saw "The Headless Gentleman," which purports to be an imperial bourbon pumpkin porter, how could I pass that up? It pours like a deep, dark stout, an opaque brown just this side of black. Well, the part that isn't foamy tan head does. What is it with Strange Land and their insane heads? Their "Old North Road" did the same thing. The head on "Headless" lasted a good five minutes before subsiding enough to pour more, and that was after I stuck my finger in it a couple of times to speed it along. Lacing is more like clinging, with clots of foamy head ringing the mug.

The nose is a little subdued, but along the lines of what you'd expect from a beer this dark--coffee, leather, dark cherries, malt. Mouthfeel is nice and rounded, full but not thick. There's good body here for a porter. Not to be confused with a stout. The taste is bitter dark chocolate with coffee overtones, some vanilla. Bourbon? Yes, I think so, unless I'm projecting that because of the name on the label. There's pumpkin, yes, but it's subdued, more of a tease than anything else. This isn't a sweep beer, and it's not going to be mistaken for a pumpkin pie. It's hoppy--on the high end of bitterness for a porter. Looking at the bottle, is says 41 IBUs, and that seems about right for what I'm tasting. There's a lot going on here, and while the bitterness is off-putting at first, as the beer warms the complexities come out and those hops start making sense. The 8.9 percent alcohol level isn't obvious in the mouth. It doesn't taste "hot."

This is an interesting, complex beer. There's more going on here than with your average porter. It's not something I'd ever drink on a regular basis, but I can see seeking it out on occasion when the mood strikes me. Those who like porters in particular should seek it out. Pumpkin aside, it's a creative interpretation of the style.

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What's Jayme drinking?

Last week we had a White Elephant gift exchange at work. In addition to the kitschy Christmas novelties that dominate these things, bottles of wine have become popular amongst my coworkers in recent years. I didn't get a bottle of wine this year. Instead, I came away with a bottle of Strange Land Brewery's "The Old North Road," English strong ale brewed with vanilla, rum and oak. I can assure you, there were several people quite envious of my steal (yes, I stole it--score me!). I mean, how could anyone who appreciates complex, interesting beers not be? Strange Land's based out of Austin and seems to be a newcomer on the local craft brew scene. They've got some interesting stuff on the shelves--braggot, saison, dubels--but as you know, potential and ambition can only carry a brew so far.

It poured a clear, dark tea color. Much lighter, in fact, than I expected. And much darker than it appeared in my mug--a dense, chocolaty darkness with a faint hint of red. The head, goodness gracious, I've never seen anything like it. The head billowed up quite aggressively despite my attempts to keep it under control, and formed a central peak extending at least an inch above the rim of my glass. The, very slowly, the sides of the head subsided leaving a thick, blotchy network of lacing all along the sides. The central column persisted a good 20 minutes, like a foamy Devil's Tower. I've never seen any kind of beer behave like this.

The nose is surprisingly subdued. Faint hints of chocolate, a tinge of alcohol, maybe vanilla... not much else. For a robust ale with a super-aggressive head, it simply doesn't have much scent. So, there's nothing to it but to drink. Lots of oak and dark chocolate hit me on the first sip. There's some woodyness apart from the oak--cedar maybe--plus the usual dark fruits, plum and cherry. There's almost a cherry cordial thing going on here, although it's not sweet beyond the restrained maltiness. The aftertaste is boozy, a little more than the 8.9 percent alcohol level would lead me to believe, and here's where the fleeting hints of rum appear. I'm not one that really goes for liquor, but I must confess a soft spot for rum, and I do wish that flavor was more pronounced in this ale.

It's an interesting beer, but not quite as interesting as it should be. It shares many traits with some of the strong Belgians that I like so much, but lacks that distinctive Belgian yeast identity. Of course, this is an English ale, so a Belgian profile isn't to be expected. Still, I feel it's missing something. If anything, I'd like a little more hops here, a touch more bitterness to counteract the dark fruit. Anyone who knows my taste in beer is probably on the floor right now, as I despise IPAs and am in no way a hop-head. But the Old North Road, while enjoyable, is almost, but not quite, there yet. A little bit of tweaking the recipe and I suspect Strange Land will nail it. Until then, I've got my eye on trying some of their braggot.

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What's Jayme drinking?

Tonight, as I settle down for another exciting night of index-preparing for Texas' Legendary Chicken Ranch, I've poured myself a mug full of Real Ale Brewing Company's Black Quad, an imposing beer in the Belgian style. I'm a big fan of their Devil's Backbone Belgian Tripel, so I'm optimistic about this one going in. It pours a dark cola color, not quite as dark as I'd have expected however. There's little head at first, but after a bit a foamy caramel head of about a finger's width grows over the course of a minute the veeeeery slowly subsides, leaving prominent lacing behind.

The nose is not as bold as I'd have thought, either. There's some coffee, a little malt but the overall impression is yeasty. First sip is sweet caramel with plums, dark cherries and a sharpness reminiscent of... cranberries? It quickly transitions to dark chocolate then with a coffee-bitter aftertaste that grows quickly before subsiding. Subsequent sips reveal more complexity of flavors--there's banana and vanilla underlying everything, with maybe a hint of oak. Mouthfeel is smooth and creamy, not quite a robust as I'd expect (I'm saying that a lot, aren't I?). Unlike others of this type I've had, the malty sweetness isn't so prominent as to disguise the 10.5 percent alcohol content. There's a definite alcohol burn present throughout, so this isn't a brew that's going to sneak up on you.

Overall, it's well-balanced and competent, nothing here to complain about, but nothing that makes me sit up and say "Wow!" It's a decent beer at a very nice price, but not operating at the same level as Devil's Backbone, and as such, a little bit of a disappointment. I'd drink it again, but Backbone is definitely a superior interpretation of a Belgian classic.

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What's Jayme drinking?

I stopped by Spec's this evening to pick up a bottle of rum, because necessities. Whilst there, I caught sight of a bottle of Black Quad by Real Ale Brewing Co. out of Blanco. I'm a big fan of their Devil's Backbone Belgian tripel--faithful to the style at a reasonable price--so how could I not give the Black Quad a try? I picked up a bottle, wholly on impulse.

It poured like a clear, dark cola. So far, so good. The carmel-colored head was slow to form and subdued, maybe half a finger thick, but persisted quite a long time. More than an hour later it was patchy on the surface of the beer, like one of Louis Pasteur's petri dishes. The nose is alcohol forward (not entirely surprising for a 10.5 percent beer) with notes of dark cherries, malt and currants. The taste... holy moly. There's a sweet, malty rush of caramel, chocolate and toffee, with dark fruit--the usual plums and cherries--along with a slight tobacco-like sharpness. Mouthfeel is smooth and creamy, quite appropriate for a Belgian with this heft. Monkey Girl saw the clear mug sitting on the counter and mistook it for a cola. I told her it was a beer, and offered her a sip. She tasted it, and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Beer's nasty," she said. "But if I liked beer, I'd like that."

I'm not a hop-head. IPAs just aren't my thing. I've made no secret that Le Terrible from the Quebec brewery Unibroue is my all-time favorite beer. Black Quad is not better than La Terrible. I won't even go so far as to say it equals La Terrible. Black Quad is inferior. But only just. Black Quad is definitely a worthy representative of the Belgian quadruple style. And it has the distinct advantage of costing just half of La Terrible. I mean, La Terrible is better, but it's not twice a good. Not by a longshot. I'm definitely going to make Black Quad a regular pick-up.

At a time when all the Texas microbrews seem to be chasing the "how many hops can we cram into a single bottle" trend that is raging nationwide, it's gratifying to see Real Ale Brewing Co. swimming against the current and taking up the challenge of producing complex, interesting Belgians. I hope the market rewards them, because damn, they're creating some worthy beers.

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What's Jayme drinking?

In observance of the most angrily contentious Hugo Awards in recent memory, if not history, I'm purposefully not watching the live stream so as to not completely lose my faith in humanity. Instead, I'm drinking a beer and sharing the experience with you. I've long had my eye on Brother Thelonius Belgian Style Abbey Ale from North Coast Brewing Company, and yesterday I pulled the trigger, picking up a bottle. There's something about uncorking a big, complex Belgian that builds the anticipation. The process of drinking one is more wine-like than polling open a brewski, and that ambiance tends to make Belgians more of a luxurious, indulgent experience. For me at any rate.

First off, the beer pours a rich, clear mahogany color. Very pretty. The head is creamy, sand-colored, and while it doesn't grow very high, it persists for quite a while (30 minutes as I type this). The scent is strong on malts, as expected, but also toffee, vanilla and a hint of chocolate. Mouthfeel is rich and well-rounded, with excellent body for this beer's 9.4 percent alcohol content. The flavor is upfront with molasses and coffee overtones. There's a mild bitterness toward the back (hops?) and dark, sour cherries. The aftertaste is almost citrusy. This is a very dense flavor profile, not broad or expansive. It's complex, but very compact, concentrated. My favorite Belgians have a flavor profile that's expansive, bigger than the bottle that contained them, as it were. This one's the opposite of that, concentrated. This doesn't make Brother Thelonius a bad brew, but it's not amongst my favorites. As with all big Belgians, the flavors are richer and more rewarding as it approaches room temperature.

Overall, it's a solid effort. Not bad, but not great. Definitely a middle of the pack example of the basic Belgian abbey ale. Would drink again without a problem, but probably wouldn't seek it out.

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What's Jayme drinking?

Tonight's beer is (take a deep breath) "Harpoon Black Forest Imperial Cherry Chocolate Porter." Whew! That's a mouthful! I'm drinking this beer because... well, upon seeing this in the store, how could I not pick it up? I like good porters. Chocolate and cherry can both be done well. Imperial is more iffy, because often it's just code for "high alcohol, hopped-up IPA." But with luck, those others would balance that element out. I'm not terribly familiar with imperial porters, but my expectation is that it should be pretty malty and roasty, which is right up my alley.

The beer poured a a clear, dark caramel with a thin, transient head. Despite this, it appears almost black in the glass. No lacing to speak of. Right away, this beer is defying my expectations--especially for one with an alcohol content of 9.8 percent! The nose is odd as well--some toasty malt, yes, but also alcohol and cola. First sip, the mouthfeel is thin. Not watery thin or Bud Light thin, but thinner than I'd think a beer with all this going on should be. There's a definite Coke-a-cola flavoring on the front end, that quickly segues into Cherry Coke. The comes malt, then deep, dark chocolate. Alcohol is well-hidden. This doesn't taste hot at all, which is a surprise given the prominent alcohol scent in the nose. Finally, there's a resurgent cola aftertaste. This is a sweet beer, with only a little bit of burnt bitterness. To be honest, it could stand a bit of sharpening more hops would give it (and given my dislike of over-hopped beers, that's saying something). Right now, hops are pretty much absent from the profile. It's not a terrible beer--they certainly managed to get the chocolate flavor right--but it is stratified, for lack of a better word. There are a number of different flavors at work here, but they're all separate, layered atop each other very distinctly rather than blended. There's no real interaction amongst them, no complexity to make this beer interesting. And an imperial cherry chocolate porter should be interesting, if nothing else. Subdued carbonation doesn't help much, either.

Harpoon Black Forest Imperial Cherry Chocolate Porter should've been a winner, in my estimation. It's got all the pieces in place, but ultimately the whole is less than the sum of its parts.

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What's Jayme drinking?

A couple of weeks ago, a former intern of mine preparing for graduation stopped by the office and gifted me with a bottle of Westmalle Trappist Ale Dubbel to say thanks for helping him out and offering advice over the past year (thanks, Andrew). We took a photography course together last spring, and during the course of the semester had several conversations about beer--particularly, what makes a good one. Apparently he paid attention to my likes and dislikes.

I chilled the dubbel in the refrigerator (the bottle recommends serving it in the 50-60 degree range) and them popped the cork. Which promptly exploded from the bottle, ricocheted off the ceiling and flew across the room, startling my family. Fortunately, it didn't gush too much, and I caught everything in my beer mug. It poured a dark, translucent brown with a seriously thick caramel-colored head that lasted forever. When it did slowly subside, it left behind persistent lacing. The scent was malty but not sweet, with some floral notes, pepper spice and toast.

The flavor is a good example of the dubbel form: Fruity plum is the first thing I tasted, along with oak and leather. There's a touch of malty sweetness mixed with a sharp undertone of citrus, but overall the flavor is dark, finishing up with a restrained hoppy bitterness. I couldn't really taste any alcohol at all, somewhat surprising for a Trappist ale with 7 percent alcohol. In fact, the mouthfeel is surprisingly thin for all that's going on here, reminding me a lot of that Flemish sour I had back in September, although without the sour (well, without a lot of sour. There's a little bit hiding there off to the side). To be honest, the mouthfeel of this dubbel is very "dry" despite the malt. That's a contradiction, I know, but this one does a good job of balancing the various competing elements.

This dubbel is not as complex as some of my favorite beers, but there's a lot here to keep someone's attention. I'm not as nuts for it as some of the reviewers I've seen online, but I will agree this is a very good example of a dubbel. I think if it had a fuller, richer body I'd be more in love with it. As it is, this is a good "step-up" beer for someone who has perhaps developed a taste for the black lagers that are starting to gain in popularity, such as Shiner's Bohemian Black and New Belgium's Enlightened Black Ale/Lager (which I myself am partial to). It's good stuff, but as I mentioned before, that 7 percent alcohol is well-hidden and could sneak up on you if you're not careful. Otherwise, Westmalle's dubbel is a very drinkable beer. Recommended.

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What's Jayme Drinking?

I've never been much into chocolate stouts. Granted, the only one I regularly see on the shelves is Young's Double Chocolate Stout. It sounds good in theory, but in practice it's pretty much just a bitter, dark stout with little in the way of chocolate--at least not any more than any other stout. That's why comparing Young's to Samuel Smith's Organic Chocolate Stout is so damn unfair. Smith's is a ringer if ever there was one. It's good. Hoo boy, is it good.

This beer pours almost black, opaque and impenetrable. A nice, dense, toffee-colored head forms and lingers. There's a good bit of lacing here as well. One sniff and you know Smith's isn't playing around with the chocolate aspect--the chocolate aroma overpowers pretty much everything else. I've seen comments online that liken the scent to milk chocolate, but who are they kidding? There's a rough edge to this that suggests dark chocolate all the way. So you go in to the first sip, expecting maybe a nice chocolaty aftertaste following the malt or maybe hops, but no, it's BAM! Dark chocolate in your face! I'm serious, this thing is like drinking liquid dark chocolate. There is a nice, bitter undertone that balances the overall sweetness--this is a sweet beer indeed. Now, when I say it tastes like dark chocolate, I don't mean the hard core, 80-90 percent stuff. This is a sweet stout, after all. It's more along the order of 60-70 percent. But still, that's a far cry from the sugary, blandness of milk chocolate. The mouthfeel is very good for this type, medium-bodied, not too thin and not syrupy as you might expect from my description. Carbonation is deeply held and not released easily, so this beer, while not even remotely fizzy, stays active a long time. Served cold, it tastes overwhelmingly of chocolate. As it warms, notes of oak, vanilla and leather kinda sorta make an appearance, but really, the dark chocolate just muscles up even more like the Incredible Hulk and beats them into submission. I keep half-expecting to crunch on a gritty chocolate nib any moment now. This is a dark beer that professed haters of dark beer fall in love with. I know, I've done the field work.

Unlike some other dark, sweet, strong-flavored beers, Samuel Smith's Organic Chocolate Stout boasts an alcohol content of only 5 percent, so there's not much of a danger of it sneaking up on you like some Belgian ales I favor. But it is a bold, powerful beer. This isn't something to sit around drinking during the big game. This is a showcase beer, reserved for dessert or an evening nightcap or to impress your friends. It's not an every day beverage, but when the mood hits, you'll know exactly what hits the spot.

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What's Jayme dinking?

Today was one of those very much not good days. Suffice to say, once I got home I wanted something to drink to help me relax and chase away the tension currently grinding the bones of my back and shoulders into powder. In my mind, there was no debate: Time to pull out the big gun. Where beer is concerned, the "Big Gun" is Le Terrible, a dark Belgian from the Quebec brewery Unibroue. Now, I'm not going to lie--most of the time I plan on using this "What's Jayme drinking" feature to share my first impressions when sampling a new brew, but in this case, Terrible is far and away my favorite beer/ale of all time. I have a waitress from the Flying Saucer in Austin to thank for this discovery. When she asked what I wanted, I told her to surprise me. After ascertaining I wasn't a hop-head and that IPAs were right out, she came back with this wonder. With most beers, I have to consider them for a while before I know what my long-term feelings are. Not this time. Love at first sip? Pretty much.

A word of warning, if you're only used to drinking watered-down horse piss like Budweiser, Coors and the like, this ale will knock you on your ass. It's alcohol content is 10.5 percent, which is higher than some wines. What's more, you can't really taste it. Tread carefully.

It pours a rich coffee umber, and is so dark in the glass as to be nearly opaque. The head is creamy and short-lived. The scent is spicy and decidedly un-beerlike, with hints of nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, dark fruits and a suggestion of citrus. It does, in fact, smell more like a mulled wine than a beer. So going in for that first sip, you know this is going to be a little different than your normal brew, but wow, not even the nose can prepare you. This is a big, malty brew, sweet as you'd expect, with a muscular, creamy mouthfeel. Carbonation struggles to be felt through the dense liquid. The flavor is fruity, yes, with plum and cherry notes, but there's a equal amount of bitter dark chocolate and coffee. Spicy undertones include nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves, along with some oak.

Simply put, this is a stunning beer. Bottle-fermented, it has all the complexity you'd want in a powerhouse Belgian and then some. Every time I come back to it, I remember how much I like it, but my memory of the rich tapestry of flavor exposed as but a poor after-image with every sip. Make no mistake, this is a sipping beer. It's weight and spice make it an ideal brew for cold winter nights, but the sweet frutiness is appropriate for summer sipping as well. In either case, this ale is at its best (in my opinion) when drunk at about 10-15 degrees below ambient temperature. It's fine straight out of the refrigerator, but as with most complex dark beers, the flavors unlock as it warms. Room temperature does nothing for the flavor, so slightly chilled works best. This ale is also a good option to spring on wine snob friends who dismiss beers as hopelessly unsophisticated. Especially if they like "complex" sweeter wines. I love a good Riesling, but unfortunately, most affordable Rieslings are pretty crappy affairs. And Moscatos, in my experience, are little more than alcoholic Kool-Aid. Hit 'em up with Terrible and they'll never quite look at beer the same way ever again.

So yeah, this is a good one. You can thank me later.

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What's Jayme drinking?

As I drown my sorrows following A&M's 49-42 loss to Alabama earlier today (really, the Aggies would be well night unstoppable had they even a mediocre defense) I realize there's no need to let a celebratory beer go to waste, even if it has become a defacto consolation beer. And tonight's specialty brew is Old Knucklehead, an American barleywine-style from Bridgeport Brewing in Oregon. I pour in my German glass beer mug, straight from the refrigerator. It pours a clear, coppery red. The head, light tan, is modest and subdued. Lacing is impressive.

First taste is all hops. There's no nuance here at all, like an out of control IPA. Very disappointing. But... I did pour it straight out of the refrigerator. Darker, heavier beers are not usually at their best when served below 50 degrees, so I let it set beside my desk as I work to finish my first piece of fiction since 2011. 2011? Has it really been that long? I'm afraid so. Egads, that's depressing. A steady stream of micro bubbles rise in the Knucklehead, which really is a pretty beer. The color is great. The carbonation is restrained. Despite the overwhelming hops, the mouthfeel is nice--very different from the thin feel of the Flemish sour ale I had last week.

Okay, so I just went and showered. Enough time has passed for the temperature of the brew to climb up above 60 degrees. The scent has improved with temperature. Floral hops still dominate, but now I'm picking up vanilla and some malt earthiness. A little old leather. Hmm. I taste. Wow. HUGE improvement from before. I know we're accustomed to drinking beer ice cold in this country, but with more complex, higher alcohol beers should be treated more like a red wine and allowed to breathe and served a few degrees below room temperature to let their flavors come out. There's definite vanilla from the oak, earthy flavors, a hint of rum as well. The profile of the hops is much more subdued now, balanced much more nicely by the other flavors. Mouthfeel, which was good when cold, is even better now. The high alcohol content isn't obvious at first, but makes itself known with a definite warming of the back of the mouth and throat. The warmer it gets, the more a mellow, caramel-like profile emerges. Not sweet and malty like the dark Belgians I like, but interesting nonetheless. I'm not noticing much, if any, fruit overtones at all.

I've had better barleywines, but damned if I can remember which ones they were, I have the type so rarely. Knucklehead is a solid contender, though, if served at warmer temperatures. The caramel and oak are really coming on strong now, and the hops that were so overpowering at first are now doing a good job keeping everything nicely balanced. This isn't a beer I'd drink every day, but if you're looking for a barleywine to sample to familiarize yourself with the style, you could do far worse than Knucklehead.

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What's Jayme drinking?

What's Jayme drinking? Well, I'm glad you asked. After the fun time I had during the LoneStarCon 3 literary beer with Mark Finn, I figured I might as well have more fun sharing my various adult beverage adventures with a wider audience. This evening at HEB, Monk's Cafe Flemish Sour Ale caught my attention. I was in the mood to try something new, and as I'm not terribly familiar with Flemish sour ales, I decided now would be a good time to rectify that situation. Although it's labeled as a product of Belgium and stocked beside--and in a corked bottle similar to--traditional Belgian Trappist ales, this Flemish is a very different animal, indeed. But I'll get to that in a moment.

The cork comes out with a satisfying pop, followed shortly by a curling fog of CO2. The ale pours as a reddish caramel that gets very dark in the glass. Like a good barleywine, it is dark but clear, without the opaque tones of a bock or stout. It forms a modest, creamy-tan head that shows dignified restraint and impressive persistence--I'm 15 minutes in now, and there's still an eighth of an inch of head left. Lacing is moderate on glass. The scent has a bit of sour apple to it, with the faintest hint of yeast. The malty overtones I'd expected with a beer this dark are absent. The taste is equally unexpected. There's a strong apple overtone here, to the point of the flavor being very cider-like. Contributing to the effect is the fact that this is a very "thin" beer, extremely light for all it's dark color with an almost effervescent mouthfeel (although to be clear, it doesn't actually effervesce. But I suspect it wants to, or would if it could). There are hints of raspberry and vanilla, along with a faint, earthy portabella mushroom taste as well. If there are any hops here, I can't taste them. This is a lightly sweet ale at it's best cold. As it warms, the sourness grows more pronounced and lingers longer on the tongue. The 5.5 percent alcohol is lower than I'd expected as well, almost invisible amongst the strong flavor profile, but in an ale with as light a mouthfeel as this, more alcohol would not be a good thing.

This is not a winter dark. The cider-like quality makes this an ale best suited for drinking on a blisteringly hot summer afternoon. I'm not one to buy into the thirst-quenching properties of beer, but I can see how this Flemish sour would fit the bill. It's very mild and inoffensive, an exotic beer for people whom beer begins with Bud and ends with Light. Certainly not in my top 10, but I wouldn't be opposed to enjoying it on occasion.

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4/365: Wild Blue

I experience a whole lot of frustration tonight as I tried (and failed) to set up a shot for my film photography class. I just could not get the composition and depth of field to cooperate, despite a couple of hours of work. I came close, but not close enough. Will have to revisit the concept at a later date.

If only it went as easily as today's 365 project photo. I love blueberries. I like beer. When you put the two together, it's normally a nasty, artificial, chemical-tasting mess. But Wild Blue blueberry lager is different. They use real blueberries--and lots of them--with no artificial colors or the like in the brew. It's fruity and crisp and fresh. I like it a lot. Not enough to drink it all the time, but whenever I have a blueberry craving, it hits the spot.

Camera: Canon 7D
Lens: Canon 24-70mm 2.8 L

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Once more unto the breach: Homebrew edition

Although my last attempt at making plum wine didn't turn out so well, I still have a deep freeze stocked with many, many frozen plums, quartered and pitted, so I had to give it another shot. This time, however, my intent is to be more careful and not repeat the errors that doomed the last batch. First off, I had major blowout issues with the first fermentation, stemming directly from using an insane 30 pounds of plums in a six-gallon batch of wine. Learning from my mistakes, I drew up a batch using 16 pounds of plums in five gallons--thus allowing more head space for the foam and cap. We'll see. I pulled the freezer bags of plums (roughly a 75/25 mix of juicy purple Methleys and yellow flesh, tart Santa Rosas) out on Saturday and let them thaw overnight. I have to say I'm a fan of freezing fruit for homebrew, because the juice gushed from the fruit and needed little additional mashing. The juice/pulp mixture was syrupy thick, incredibly fruity in scent and very sweet and fruity to taste.

I squeezed the juice from two large oranges and added a couple straw's worth of plum juice and cut the mix with an equal amount of water to make a yeast starter. I emptied a packet of Lavin 71B-1122 yeast--particularly well-suited for fruity wines. I covered this and set it aside to let it do its thing.

The recipe I'm attempting is a hybrid from Pattie Vargas & Rich Gulling's Making Wild Wines and Meads. Scaling up their one-gallons recipes for my 5-gallon effort, I put in:

• 16 pounds of plums
  
• 12 pounds of sugar
  
• 1.25 tsp of grape tannin
  
• 5 tsp pectic enzyme
  
• 3 tsp acid blend
  
• 5 tsp yeast nutrient
  
• 1.25 tsp yeast energizer

I put the plums into my 6 gallon fermenter, and dissolved the rest in heated pots of water on the stove, then added that to the fermenter, which brought the total volume up to around 4 gallons. I topped up with cold water and stirred vigorously to oxygenate the must. It was about 90 degrees at this point. So I waited until the temperature had dropped to 80 degrees and pitched the yeast. One thing I learned in recent months is that wine yeasts don't like high temperatures. Well, they like it just fine, but ferment faster and produce harsh fusel alcohols in the process, which is why all my meads up to this point tend to taste like Listerine. Years of homebrewing ales have spoiled me this way. Lavin 71B-1122 yeast, specifically, like temperatures in the 50-70 degree range, preferably 55-60. To get around the problem, or at least minimize it, I've set up a water bath in my office--a shallow plastic tub which holds the six-gallon fermenter. I've wrapped a towel around the fermenter, and filled the tub with ice water. I soak the towel, and keep the ceiling fan in my office running. This, in theory at any rate, keeps the plum wine must fermenting at a lower temperature to produce a higher-quality beverage. We'll see. It was bubbling happily when I left this morning, but I may well find a blowout when I return home.

In other brewing news, I bottled the six gallon batch of Coopers Dark Ale I started way back in November. It took more than three weeks for it to fully ferment out, which my be a result of my belated addition of the brown sugar after the initial vigorous fermentation had peaked. In any event, the beer is a pretty, rich, dark color. I double-checked each bottle to make sure I added priming sugar (an embarrassing omission from some bottles in my last batch of beer) and they've been aging for a little more than a week and a half. All told, I filled 36 24-ounce bottles. They'll benefit from more aging, obviously, but curiosity is getting the better of me and I might try one tonight.

My other homebrew projects--both meads--are producing mixed results. After the plum wine oxidized, with grim resolve I decided not to chance it and bottled the plum melomel I'd started at the same time. The color wasn't quite so bright as I remembered, so the fear of losing another batch (albeit only 2.5 gallons) was too much to bear. I dosed it with potassium sorbate and campden tablets to knock out the yeast, then back-sweetened with a little more than a pound of honey before bottling. I opened a bottle several days later, just to check if there was any quality to it at all, and was happy to find it surprisingly drinkable. I think, yes, that a tiny bit of oxidation had occurred, but nothing tragic. It's extremely fruity, and the honey isn't apparent. It's also sweeter than I expected--before back-sweetening it was very, very dry--but not port wine sweet. It's not perfect, but entirely drinkable, which I consider a success. Aging may or may not help, and in any event, fruit wines generally don't age as well as grape wines. Not sure how all the honey in the mix will impact things, as meads generally benefit more from aging.

The other experiment, the 1.5 gallon braggot with smoked malt and jalapeño is still a work in progress. I back-sweetened with the remaining honey from the plum melomel back-sweetening attempt, added clarifying agents and was disappointed to see that it's being stubborn. Clearing is coming very, very slowly. A sample revealed the flavors to still be very harsh, with little blending. I expect I'll bottle this stuff up in a few days and hope aging will sort it out, otherwise I risk oxidation (which I'm now paranoid about, although I've gone 10 years without ever having that happen before).

I've got several empty fermentation vessels available now, but nothing cooking. I wonder what I'll try next--time to start another mead.

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So... the homebrew

So yesterday I finally got around to bottling the mead that's been sitting in the fermenter since, well, forever. I originally started the honey fermenting Dec. 30, 2008, and racked the mead on Feb. 2, 2009, at which point I siphoned off a couple of gallons of which to make a muscadine-infused mead (didn't turn out so well). To the remainder, I added a gallon of organic apple cider, five chopped Granny Smith apples and 10 cinnamon sticks. It's been sitting there, unmolested ever since (with the exception of the removal of the chopped Granny Smiths about six months back), making this mead, essentially, one year old.

So I bottled it yesterday, filling 19 wine bottles with the four-plus gallons of mead from the fermenter. The first bottle was quite cloudy, as sediments had apparently filled the bung hole spout, but the remaining 18 bottles were among the clearest meads I've ever bottled. That's the good news. The bad news is that I siphoned off a glass of the apple mead/cyser and... well, it's bland. Crap, crap, crap. The year-long aging has been good for the mead, overall, in that almost all of the harsh, Listerine-style medicinal harshness has faded away. But still, it's bland. I'd added grape tannins, but I can't taste them. All that apple? A fain aftertaste. The cinnamon? Nary a hint. sigh.

After the success I had with the prickly pear mead and the holiday spice metheglin from a few years back, I really thought I had it down with this meadmaking stuff. Apparently not. Note to future self: If you think you have too much fruit/spice/flavoring agents already in the mead, you don't. Add more. Then double that. In an act borne out of frustration at this, I stuck a cinammon stick along with a couple of allspice berries in each of the final four bottles I corked. I have no idea if they'll impart any flavor, but I needed to try something. This is a good batch of dry mead, spoiled only by the fact that it's relative tasteless. I think that from now on, until I'm fully confident in my meadmaking skills, I'll restrict myself to making smaller batches of flavored meads. That way I won't have a whole lot of bland drink on my hands that nobody will want.

On the bright side, with the 6-gallon fermenter freshly vacated (and cleaned) there was nothing stopping me from starting an immediate batch of beer. Beer is so much less problematic than mead--one can of Coopers "Dark Ale" extract, plus two pounds of dark malt and hungry little yeasties and away we go. When I opened up my office this morning, the fresh, bubbly scent of fermenting yeast greeted me. I love that smell! And yes, I'm already giving consideration to what my next meadmaking efforts will consist of.

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Beer!

For those of you keeping score at home, back on August 25 I started fermenting a batch of beer. The liquid extract kit I used was Cooper's Dark Ale (which I'd never tried before--breaking away from my nut brown ale comfort zone some) and half of the added sugars were dark toasted malt. Once the overwhelming foaming fermentation settled down, I added enough honey to make up the balance of adjunct sugars. The beer settled down and went on fermenting steadily. And kept on. And kept on. Fermentation slowed down greatly, but absolutely, positively, would. Not. Stop.

Normally, in my experience with homebrew beer, the little yeasties exhaust all the sugars within two weeks. You then prime and bottle, and the resulting brew is drinkable in another week or so. This stuff kept on for more than six weeks! It actually stopped fermenting in the middle of last week, but it took until last night for me to find the time to bottle the stuff up.

I'm wondering if it really was the honey that turned the fermentation into such a long, drawn-out affair. Mead takes a while to ferment, yes, but that's pure honey in an environment that isn't all that hospitable to yeast. With the beer, the honey made up a relatively modest share of the fermentable sugars, so I'm not so sure. And I'm also somewhat concerned about the taste of the beer if it's not aged a long while, as mead has a nasty, medicinal flavor if drunk "early." This is all unexplored territory for me, folks. I'll pop open a bottle in a couple of weeks and let you know what I find.

In the meanwhile, who else has discovered the wonderful Shiner Black Lager? It's become my second favorite commercial beer behind New Belgian's 1554: Enlightenment Black Ale (fear not, the venerable Shiner Bock is still a reliable standby).

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Pictures at and exhibition

I've accumulated quite a few photographically-inclined images of late. This isn't surprising, seeing how I'm taking two photography classes this semester. These aren't those. The photojournalism pics are very limited in scope and wouldn't be interesting outside of the classroom context, and my intro to B&W photography are actual darkroom prints which I've not yet had a chance to scan into digital form. So these are other, random, photos that I've taken over the course of the past month.

First up is a squirrel I saw last week as I walked to my car in the parking lot. It was actually in the cypress tree above my car, feasting on the seeds from cypress cones. I used my 75-300 telephoto to zoom in tight, and the end result isn't too bad. Nice colors.



Next up is mint in flower, from my back yard. I recently acquired my late father-in-law's 50mm Nikon AI-s lens, which is a quality manual focus lens from back in the day. All my equipment is Canon, though, so I couldn't directly mount it on my camera. So I ordered a reversing ring and mounted the lens on my camera backwards, converting it to a nifty, high-magnification macro lens. I'm able to control the aperture and everything this way. Sweet. This is one of the first successful macro shots I took with it. Nice colors, and a nice, creamy bokeh (background blur).



Bees gathering nectar from passion flower vines make good macro photography subjects as well. I'm just saying.



I didn't take nearly as many photos during the Comal County Fair this year as I'd expected to. Between the heat and chasing kids there just wasn't much opportunity for me. But as we were leaving Thursday night, I did a quick point-and-shoot at this ride on the carnival midway. I'm more than a little shocked that it came out so well, since I didn't put much effort into it. Strong colors. It looks more dynamic than the scene really was. Fun stuff. Next year I hope to really prowl the midway and get some good motion blur lighting effects...



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Honey and beer

Well, the foaming of the wort finally subsided, and the fermentation settled into a steady bubbling. This was my cue to prep the honey. I took a couple cups of water and heated them in a pot, then added the pound of raw honey, stirring until it'd pretty much dissolved. I took a taste, and let me tell you, there's no doubt that this is a honey mix. Other than the texture, it tasted exactly like the honey before I diluted it. Happily, I opened the fermenter and poured the sweet mixture in. It foamed up instantly, but not enough to reach the airlock. I closed the lid back up and it's been bubbling steadily for the last couple of days. It's slowing down now, but I probably won't be able to bottle until next weekend. We'll see.

In other beer news, we went to Central Market to stock up on some luxury consumables (and wine) and while there I took the opportunity to grab a six pack of New Belgian Brewery's wonderful 1554 Enlightenment Black Ale. Bruce Sterling introduced me to the thick, chocolaty beverage some years back at a Turkey City event, and I've had a passion for it ever since. I almost didn't get it, though, because my eye was caught by Tommyknocker Maple Nut Brown Ale. Anyone who knows me knows I love nut brown ale, and this sorely tempted me. But I really, really wanted the heavier punch of the 1554, so I put Tommyknocker on my wish list for next time. I did, however, indulge myself with a bottle of Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale from the singles section. I'd tried to homebrew blueberry ale in the past and failed to get a respectable blueberry flavor in my beer (fingers are crossed for my mead). But this Bar Harbor drink did a pretty darn good job of turning the trick. Nice blueberry aroma, and a nice blueberry flavor once you get past the initial hoppyness. I'm not a huge hops fan, but they came close to balancing everything just right. Next time I'll probably pick up some more. Have I mentioned how much I love the explosion of craft beers and microbreweries in the past decade?

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Return of the Meadmaker

So I bottled my mead. Finally. Actually, what prompted this undertaking was no great strategic plan on my part but rather the drinking of my last bottle of nut brown ale (recall my side trip to Austin Homebrew Supply during Armadillocon). I'm out of beer, and I tend to save my alcohol budget for really exotic beers or wines or spirits. Random drinking beers I like to brew myself, hence the need to empty the fermentation vessel of mead.

Because it was easiest, I bottled the 1.5 gallon batch of maypop mead first. It'd settled out very clearly, was a pale yellow, and looked innocently appealing in the bottles. I got six bottles worth once all was said and done, and took a taste as well. The exceptionally long time I've aged it in the fermentation vessels (I started them out in January) was quite apparent with the maypop--it tasted like a very, very mild chardonnay. Better than my first effort at fermenting a straightforward mead, but as a melomel the fruit was practically nonexistent. The medium-toast French oak chips were not very strong of presence, either. I'd worried that leaving them on the mead for three weeks was too much, but it's obvious three months would've better served me. That, and adding a LOT more passion fruit. Maypops have a milder flavor than commercial passion fruit, but geeze, I didn't expect it to be invisible. This mead will be consumed in due course, but it'd appeal most to people who like light beer and anemic white wines.

The blueberry mead on the other hand, has got some kick to it. The color is a pretty purplish amber, and it still has that harsh mead medicinal taste. Not mild at all at this point. The flavors are still muddled, but there's something there as far as flavor character goes that the maypop lacks. It's also fairly dry, not sweet at all (nobody will be confusing this with the prickly pear!). I ended up with 23 bottles of the stuff once all was said and done, with only the final three bottles having significant sediment issues. This is one that will benefit greatly from extended aging (at least, that's my hope).

I've already got enough honey on hand to start a new batch, but that'll have to wait until I've scratched my beer itch with this "dark ale" kit, which I'm going to make using equal parts of dark malt extract and honey (yeah, I can't wean myself entirely from the honey--this will be my first attempt at using it in beer). In the interim, I can work up some labels for the mead (and, truth to tell, I've yet to properly label those half dozen bottles of mint metheglin from last summer, either).

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