Holiday Brew Hoedown

So today I’m looking at my organic chemistry class syllabus and I see our next unit is on alcohols. Something stirs from deep within me. Indigestion, perhaps? No, something else. Something about drinking. Something about writing. And then I remember that once upon a time I wrote mildly snarky blog posts about booze that no one ever read. Let’s try that again, shall we?

Studies have shown that people are actually pretty crap at multitasking—a finding that I’ve taken to heart. Whereas in my former collegian days I would gladly blow off assignments until five minutes before they were due, now I’m the guy who starts working on a project the day after its assigned. Crack it up to maturity in old age. Or neurosis.

Anyway, I find myself in the odd position of not having much to do until the end of the quarter, and a subject near and dear to my heart has awoken me from my slumber: Christmas beer. Now, in years past I would typically chide the global marketing machine for cramming Christmas down my throat prematurely. Not this year. Having been out of the country for the holidays a year ago, I now find myself spewing yuletide cheer from every orifice.

Granted, this newfound holiday spirit has largely been fueled by alcohol, in this case the early release of several seasonal brews, by overwhelming popular demand. Beers that used to only be available at the beginning of December now hit shelves the first week of November. So what’s the big hullaballoo? Well, Christmas beers (or winter warmers, or spiced winter ales, or whatever you want to call them) typically have a little extra alcohol to take the nip out of the cold. So that helps. Plus, all the typical holiday spices are usually there; cinnamon, cloves, allspice, ginger, orange peel and so forth. So there’s that. But mostly, I think people just want something to look forward to around the holidays, like they did when they were kids, before real life came crashing in and ruined it all. Plus they taste awesome and make you all tingly.

On the local scene, Columbus Brewing Company does a very nice Winter Warmer, of which the main impression left is that of French toast. It’s not as heavily spiced as some other holiday offerings, making it a nice entry point for someone not accustomed to beers that tastes mildly of potpourri. Barley’s released their Christmas Ale last week, and plan on releasing a Belgian Christmas Ale later this month called Behjün Nöel (Get it? Belgian? No-“L”?). The Christmas Ale has the cinnamon flavor of the Winter Warmer, but with a hit of citrus and a hot boozy finish. Very festive, and very good.

(Side Note: If you haven’t made it to Barley’s over in Grandview or in the Short North, do so immediately. In addition to the excellent Christmas Ale, they’ve recently released Galaxy 500, an IPA with grapefruity Australian Galaxy hops, as well as Fortune Teller, an East India Imperial Porter. If you don’t understand what that is, don’t worry neither did I. There’s a good description here. The short and nasty of it is that it’s one of the rare dark roasted, high hop beers that actually works. Next week they’re releasing the bourbon barrel aged version, called Zoltar, which has to be the coolest beer name ever.)

There are plenty of out-of-state Christmas beers, but you could do worse than 21st Amendment’s Fireside Chat spiced ale. It has the distinctly meaty flavor of a British mincemeat pie (raisons, nuts, Christmas spices) for a slightly different take on the style. Plus the can has an awesome picture of FDR giving one of his famous fireside chat radio broadcasts, beer in hand. These guys prove that not just good, but wickedly awesome, beer comes in cans.

However, all Christmas beers pale in comparison to the two ton reindeer in the room that is Great Lakes Christmas Ale. Every year they make more of the stuff, and every year it’s not nearly enough to meet demand. I had to call ahead to get mine, ask the proprietor to go in the back room to his hidden stash to retrieve it, after which I was limited to one six pack. For this privilege I was asked to pay nearly thirteen bucks. Is it worth it? Damn close. It’s everything that other Christmas beers are, just more. If you’ve had more than one Great Lakes brew, you probably could discern they have a very distinctive piney hop profile. When you add that to honey, cinnamon and ginger, plus a vibrant ruby color, you get a Christmas tree in a glass. If you missed the first wave, a second batch should be released around the first of December. Personally, I wouldn’t wait that long—I plan on having one in hand on Turkey Day.

I’m not sure if I’ll get a chance to post again before finals, but I hope to at least chime in on a very exciting local product—Middle West Spirits release of “Stone Fruit”, their standard vodka flavored with local fruits and honey, due out at the end of the month. Given the high quality of their past offerings I expect it to be excellent, and a great weapon to have in the arsenal for when the relatives have worn out their welcome. And if you are reading this, and happen to be related to me, please know that I am talking about everyone else except for you.

Kentucky Straight Bourbon

This is Freddie. His family has worked at Buffalo Trace distillery for three generations. His grandfather handled every one millionth barrel of whiskey that came through the distillery, dying two weeks after rolling through barrel number six million, just shy of his 91st birthday. Freddie’s catchphrase is, “Ain’t that sumpthin’?”

To wit: “Buffalo Trace is one of only four distilleries to operate during Prohibition. There was a catch: you had to have a doctor’s prescription, and you only got one bottle per person a month. So naturally, there were a lot of sick children those days! If you got in good with your doctor, you could even order you favorite brand. By the end of Prohibition, doctor’s had written over 6 million prescriptions for whiskey. Ain’t that sumpthin’?”

We stopped at Buffalo Trace Distillery on the way down to the Beaumont Inn in Kentucky, one of our regular getaway spots. I could give you the nitty-gritty details about the effects of limestone aquifers or warehousing on the various whiskies in their portfolio, but the real pleasure of the tour was Freddie. This guy clearly loves what he does, and has nearly three generations worth of family stories to entertain his audience with.

In addition to a bottle of Eagle Rare bourbon and Buffalo Trace liqueur (available only at the distillery), I purchased some White Dog. White Dog is slang for the clear spirit that comes off the still before it’s put into wood. It is, as you would imagine, nuclear hot in your throat, but if your taste buds aren’t scorched after the first sip, you’ll notice a sweet caramel corn hit transforming into white bread. No idea what to do with it, but it gives an idea of what the distilleries spirit is like underneath the wood.

The Beaumont Inn itself is a former girls school turned old southern hotel. To give you an idea of the place, Rosemary Clooney was a frequent guest, but the owners say they’d never let her boy stay there (don’t appreciate his politics). A few years ago, it acquired the only liquor license in an otherwise dry county, making it prime real estate for locals, ensuring the place continues to bring in revenue even when the wife and I aren’t there to wolf down their delicious fried chicken and corn cakes.

Along with a new pre-Prohibition cocktail list, they’ve expanded their whiskey offerings since our last visit. The jewel of the collection is the 12 and 15 year old Pappy Van Winkle, a wheated bourbon. The door Freddie is opening in the picture above leads to the bottom floors of the rickhouses, where the whiskey matures the slowest—that's where Pappy sleeps. It’s released once a year, and gets snapped up quickly, so I appreciated the chance to enjoy a glass (or two). It is absolutely the smoothest, most complex bourbon I’ve ever tasted, and can hold its head high alongside any Scotch.

On the way back out of town, we visited Woodford Reserve. I’ve always enjoyed Woodford (it has a finish like Maraschino cherries), and I was intrigued by their use of Scottish style pot stills. Being smaller, you get to see a lot more of the process, like these pics of wort fermenting in washbacks and the inside of the mash cooker. The three stills themselves are beautiful, made in Scotland, of course. The whole place is very neat, tidy and beautiful, tucked away in a nook amongst horse farms. A bit too neat, in fact. The distillery is owned by Brown-Forman, makers of Jack Daniels, and the presentation comes across a little too slick. In contrast, Buffalo Trace is a working distillery, a little dirty and rough around the edges.

It doesn’t help that our tour guide admitted that a proportion of Woodford is blended with spirit from their monster plant in Louisville, since the less efficient pot stills can’t keep up with demand. What’s the point of pot still whiskey if you’re going to dilute it with cheap filler? She also alleged that Scotch can be made with artificial flavors and colors, whilst Woodford is not. Scotch producers can add some flavorless caramel for a more consistent color (which has a negligible effect on flavor). So, basically, she’s full of crap. No need to talk smack about the competition if you have a superior product.

 Both distilleries offer a more comprehensive “hard hat” tour that you have to schedule ahead of time, offering a more comprehensive look at the distilling process. I think the four hour drive back down to Buffalo Trace, running the gauntlet through the chaos of Cincinnati, would be well worth it, especially if Freddie is our host. Ain’t that sumpthin’?

Drake Brothers Mead

After touring the Middle West Spirits distillery a few months ago, co-owner Brady encouraged us to visit the Drake Brothers Meadery just down the street. It's the type of synergistic offering of goodwill to fellow businesses that makes me love the Short North community. That said, the suggestion was largely forgotten until I saw a recipe for mead in my homebrew book. Then, in the way that a mere speck of thought at the back of your mind heightens your awarness, I spotted a bottle of Brothers Drake mead on the shelf of specialty wines at Whole Foods.

Mead is essentially beer, with honey replacing the grain in fermentation. It has an appearance and mouthfeel like wine, with a similar alcohol content, and is often served chilled. The Bros have various flavors available in stores depending on the season and availability, but whenever I try something for the first time, I opt for the simplest rendition. So while tempted by the VO, infused with South African Rooibos tea, I opted for the traditional Honey Oak.

Mead, informs the Brothers Drake web site, was the drink of the gods. To grind a personal axe, and without passing judgement on the assuredly nice fellas at Bros Drake, I hate when something purports to be the drink/food/official car rental company/etc of the gods. Apart from the wine guzzling Dionysus, I've yet to see an official product endorsement by any polytheist deity, though it's rumored  Zeus was a fan of moonshine.

That little rant aside, I understand what they're getting at. Mead is ancient, and pops up regularly in Egyptian and Norse mythology. I seem to recall Beowulf drinking a bucket full of the stuff before he lopped off Grendel's beastly head. Drinks with history are inherently more interesting, and mead certainly provides that. But ultimately, the flavor has to match up to the pedigree.

I'd never had mead, but I really wanted to like this. Locally sourced ingredients? Check. Humble homebrewing beginning? Check. Handcrafted with TLC? Check.

But alas, this mead was not for me. Not bad, but weird. Their website notes mead's complexity, and it's true that every sip I took provided something different. It had a pleasant custardy feel and a not overbearing kiss of oak, but there was also a weird sweet, spicy fattiness like salami and a very assertive thyme note that only gets stronger  the more you drink. It's certainly an interesting alternative to white wine, but then I'm not a huge fan of that either.

I would like to try one of the Bros' other offerings; melomels (with added fruit), metheglins (with spice/herbs) or cysers (with apple cider/juice). Unfortunately, at $23 a bottle, it's a bit pricey to experiment with--not that I'm ever against parting cash for quality. Perhaps I'll have to pop by the meadery on 5th Avenue and try a glass of the intriguing sounding Apple Pie, or the hopped version of their original. There are also a handful of bars around town that have the mead on tap, usually for the price of a glass of wine (http://brothersdrake.com/wordpress/get-mead-3/).

Despite feeling slightly disappointed, I'm glad I tried Bros mead. Much like whisky, I'm sure there's a flavor out there that suits everyone, and if I have to try every flavor to find it, by the Gods, that's a sacrifice I'm ready to make. 

Project Homebrew

No, I didn't forget about you. How could I forget about you?

Perhaps you noticed (or more likely, not), I haven't posted anything for a while. Far from losing my passion for all things boozy, I've been taking some classes at Capital U this summer to further my alcoholic edification. The last eight weeks have been a bit like science boot camp. Their motto: "Eat. Sleep. Science". I don't recall sleeping much, but the rest seems about right.

My education hasn't been all theoretical, though. The day before classes began, I made my first batch of homebrew. I'm a big fan of  Dogfish Head Brewery, so when I saw a book by their master brewer, Sam Calagione, I snapped it up. Most homebrew books feature a simple (frankly, dull) brown ale as their first recipe. But this is Dogfish, and the name of the book is "Extreme Homebrewing", so the first recipe is the  boozy 9% abv A-Z Brown Ale, pumped up with molasses, brown sugar, maple syrup and Belgian candi sugar for those little yeast to munch on.

I bought my homebrew kit from Gentiles in Grandview, but was less than impressed with the service*, so I bought the actual ingredients for my brew at the Winemaker's Shop on High St in Clintonville. I was feeling a bit intimidated, but the hippie looking dude working the counter couldn't have been more helpful. I flipped open the recipe book and he boxed everything up for me in a few minutes. Nifty.

Brew day was somewhat less nifty. I had everything sanitized, and all the ingredients laid out in order on the counter, when I began to fill the brew pot with water. I had assumed the biggest pot in the house would be big enough for the five gallon boil. Turns out the pot was exactly five gallons, and a pot full to the brim doesn't stay full very long once it starts boiling. Adding to the indignity, I had already activated my yeast pack, and was starting classes the next day, so there was no chance to brew some other time.

After a brief pause to scream obscenities at no one in particular, I ran out to Gentiles and purchased a pot big enough to stew all of the yippy little dogs in our neighborhood at once.  Seriously, I can bathe in the thing. Once I finally got the water boiling, things went more smoothly. The book lists the times to add hops and sugars during the hour long boil, so if you can read a recipe, you can brew a beer. The nervy part starts when the heat is turned off.

At high temps, bacteria and wild yeast (causes gamey/sour flavors) can't survive, dimethyl sulfide (tastes like creamed corn) and dissolved oxygen (causes cardboard flavor) boil off  . Between 140 and 80, these undesirable microscopic critters thrive. The idea is to cool the wort off quickly in an ice bath, ideally within a half hour, and get the good critters (my American ale yeast) in the wort as soon as possible. Forty minutes later, my thermometer is stubbornly sticking above 90, and I'm out of ice. Luckily, I had sanitized the crap out of every possible surface in the kitchen, and I found some cold packs, so my beer doesn't taste like sour creamed corn on cardboard toast.

When I came downstairs the next morning, the airlock on the fermenter was bubbling away in the bathtub, meaning the yeast were doing their job turning sugar into alcohol. There is something very satisfying in the gurgle of that airlock, knowing beer is magically being created in your presence. Plus, it makes your guest bathroom smell like sourdough bread.

Two weeks later I was ready to bottle. I had, through much hard work and dedication, managed to empty two cases of beer bottles. The bottling process is also fret with biological terror, as the beer is very susceptible to bacterial infections. Siphoning the beer from the fermenter to the bottling bucket minimizes splashing and adding oxygen to the beer for the critters to feed on. This takes a bit of practice, as evidenced by the sticky, beery mess I left all over the kitchen floor.

Another thing to put in the, "Things to Remember For Next Time" file is the fact that the bottling bucket has to be above the level of the bottle to work (duh). Unfortunately, the kitchen cabinets protrude just enough to sit the bottling bucket slightly dangerously close to the edge of the counter, leaving five gallons of beer wobbling perilously above my head. Crap. Halfway through, just as I was getting a hang of using the bottling wand, I realized I had forgotten to add the priming sugar that gives beer carbonation. Double crap. I carefully emptied the case of beer I had bottled back into the bottling bucket, added the sugar and started again.

So how did it turn out? After two weeks, I was concerned. The beer had a nice roasty carmelized flavor, and the final gravity reading confirmed the yeast had done their job in acheiving a 9% abv. But the beer was flat and syrupy--kind of like drinking vanilla extract. Worried I had done something wrong, I did some research,and found out that high gravity beers take longer to carbonate, and that some Belgian brewers don't touch their Tripels for six months. I've been trying one every Friday since, and this last week I finally got something resembling a head. Still needs a few more weeks though.

The thing about brewing is, once you do one, you immediately start thinking about what's next. That's why tomorrow, inspired by 21st Amendment's awesome watermelon wheat beer, I'm brewing a kiwi wheat beer, a little wiser from my mistakes and certain to make a boatload more. So if in five weeks I've made a great beer, I'm sure you'll hear all about it. And if not, it's on to the next brew.

*Subsequent trips to Gentiles have been considerably better. It also sells take and bake pizza in addition to wine and beer making supplies, and I think I was dealing with a bunch of the "pizza dudes" instead of the "beer dudes" on my first trip.

OYO Whiskey

Apologies for not posting for a while, but I’ve been busy lately. Doing what? Drinking stuff, obviously.

For instance, the elusive and rarely seen OYO Whiskey from Middle West Spirits. As previously mentioned, I’m a big fan of their vodka, and was bummed to miss out on a release party for their whiskey in April. As I learned the hard way, Facebook is preferred over the rarely updated website (but which still has a cool design and interesting drink recipes—check it out) for updating Middle West’s ravenous fan base. Tickets for the event sold out quicker than a Bieber/Gaga double bill.

So it was with much haste that I drove down to the distillery after receiving a Facebook notice that whiskey batch number two was now for sale. I snapped up three bottles—apologies to those who missed out, but fine spirits bring out the ruthless in me. If I recall correctly, a bottle will set you back around $45, and they should start showing up on store shelves soon. Take solace in the fact that those three bottles got spread around: one was swapped for a nifty bottle of Elmer T Lee bourbon recently procured on a Bourbon Trail trip by fellow drinking aficionado AC. The other went to my dad. Feel the whiskey love…

As for the precious liquid itself, the results are mixed. The big coconut and vanilla hit from the oak certainly complements the crème brulee house character, but there’s a hard pencil shaving flavor in the middle that dominates. The finish is dry, woody and orange pulp like. I’ve found that wood shaving note diminished a little on further tastings, and it makes a nice manhattan, but the boys may have rushed this one out a bit too quickly to satisfy the clamor from their horde of followers.  

Barley's Mini Real Ale Fest

Fellow drinks aficionado Andrew Cornell (AC) and I headed to Barley’s Smokehouse this last Saturday for their annual Mini Real Ale Fest. The event ran from noon till three, but we didn’t get there until a little before one, not wanting to wait in line like this. Bad idea. You want those three hours, you need those three hours.

Why? Because then you don’t have to spend two hours pounding half pints trying to use up all eight sample tickets.

Having been to the Columbus Alefest at the Shriner’s in February, I was expecting a cute little tasting glass like what we received there, as opposed to a full on pint glass. Given that the selection of twenty beers was a bit IPA heavy (full listing here), we tried to alternate some differing styles in between to keep the palate guessing. We started off leisurely enough but quickly realized we had to pick up the pace. Yes, it wasn’t strictly necessary to drink the entire sample, but I’m not about to throw away quality product. This isn’t wine here, people. I want to drink the stuff, not tickle my taste buds with it.

In between slamming down half pints, we sampled some of the awesome pulled pork sliders on offer. For the occasion, Barley’s smoked a whole pig, named “Bruce the Beast”. No, really. Anyway, Bruce was delicious when paired with Carolina BBQ sauce and slaw. I offered AC twenty bucks to dance around wearing Bruce’s head like a coonskin cap. Like the gentleman he is, he politely declined. You can’t blame me for trying, though.

We had been saving our last sample ticket for another round of the awesome Saint Joan’s Farmhouse Ale; a barrel aged imperial stout brewed by the hosts. Joan’s has a graham cracker like maltiness, with plenty of alcohol kick and yogurt-like lactic tang to counteract the sweetness. It was dangerously drinkable, and the brewers should be proud to put a beer of that quality in the same room with microbrew superstars like Bell’s, Founder’s and Troegs.

Unfortunately, by the time we wobbled over to the bar, they were no longer accepting tickets. We rushed to the back to see a bartender dismantling the one remaining keg. Not wanting to waste our ticket, we asked if we could have another pour. In a conspiratorial tone, he poured us each a glass of the excellent Scotty Karate Scotch Ale from Dark Horse and told us to scram. Having had a pint or two in Scotland, I can say that a lot of American brewers go overboard with the malty sweetness of a Scotch Ale, but this one just about got it right, with tons of boozy, roasty, caramel flavor.

In addition to the two above, the best of the rest would include Columbus Brewing’s Uncle Rusty, which only improves with oak aging, and Thirsty Dog’s Orthus Belgian Dubbel. It didn’t have as much of a sour tang as some other cheery aged Belgians I’ve had, but was still a very solid Dubbel.

So there you go. I certainly plan to add the Mini to my annual calendar, and suggest you do as well. Just make sure you get there early, so you don’t end up beer bonging a fine brew that deserves better.

You can check out pics on Barley's facebook page. Most of my pics were a fair reflection of my vision by the end of the Fest--blurry, naturally.

Yay for Growlers

As anyone who has cracked open a Heineken that smells like cat pee can tell you, beer does not have an infinite shelf life. There are certain things--darker colored bottles, higher alcohol content, increased hops--that can prolong the inevitable, but unless you use pasteurization or preservatives (ick), brewers face a losing battle against time as soon as their beer leaves the fermenter. Add to that the fact that automated bottling/canning equipment is expensive and a time consuming process, and it's no wonder why you don't see more locally brewed beer on store shelves.

Columbus Brewing Company and Barley's both have great brewpubs, but sometimes I'd just like to enjoy their beer from the home front. (Some of my sports-related foul mouthed  tirades don't go over well with large crowds. Or my wife.) CBC doesn't bottle its monthly Hop Oddessy series, and Barley's doesn't bottle at all. The solution? Enter the growler.

Growlers are half-gallon jugs offered by micro brewers  to get fresh beer in the hands of their customers. You can find a brief history  of growlers here on beeradvocate. For a one off fee (usually around $5) you get a glass jug with the brewery's name on it, which you can fill whenever you visit. For self-serving purposes (as well as legal ones), a brewery is not allowed to fill another's growler. Thus, I have two--for CBC and Barley's. Elevator Brewery and Mad Mex on campus also both have growlers, but I'm sure there's a few more places around town.

The drawback of growlers is that it is indeed fresh beer, and once you unscrew the cap you've got 2-3 days to kill it before it goes flat, though mine seldom last that long. It will stay fresh unopened in your fridge for a week to ten days, so drink up or make friends.

A fill up at CBC for one of their standard offerings is $8--$18 for their Hop Oddessy releases. Prices at Barley's are similar. If that seems a little steep, realize you're paying for a one-off brew that will probably never be produced again. They are also boozier in terms of ABV, and compare favorably with some of the more expensive six pack seasonal offerings of Founders or Stone. Plus it makes you feel like you're drinking illicit hooch from a big 'ol jug. Cue banjos.

I was lucky enough to snag some of CBC's Uncle Rusty, an imperial red ale. For the uninitiated, imperial is code for extra boozy, as in the strong beer that Russian czars had made for their imperial courts. It's like a nice mix between Founder's Red Rye IPA and Sierra Nevada Bigfoot--equal parts roasty malt and piney hops, and plenty tingly from the alcohol. You might be able to grab some before it runs out, but fear not, the next release, Bohdi, is due for release on Cinco de Mayo. Ole!

Middle West Spirits

I used to despise “mixed drinks”. Part of it was seeing those stylish, neon tinged martini cocktails on Sex In the City that popped up everywhere. Sure it’s possible those garishly pink and purple concoctions are delicious, but I’ll never find out. I don’t usually choose a drink based on whether it clashes with my outfit.

  My contention is if you have to mix something into the booze you’re drinking to make it palatable, it must not be very good booze. Then I tried a classic martini, liked it, and decided to make an exception. Then I tried a rye Manhattan, and made another exception. Then the classic cocktail renaissance came along and I decided to just enjoy the ride.

Except for vodka. Admittedly, an unfortunate evening spent dry heaving during my sixteenth year had a big hand in this. But there is also the fact that most vodka is essentially denatured alcohol minus the bitter additives that discourage hobos from drinking it (Does anyone say “hobo” anymore?). Distillation is supposed to be about concentrating flavors, not removing them.

Then one day I read a Columbus Dispatch article about two fledgling distilleries right here in town. Being a dedicated locavore, talk about handcrafted local ingredients had me all giddy, so I picked up a bottle of Middle West’s OYO vodka (pronounced Oh-Why-Oh) and Watershed Gin. The gin is very good, and makes a zesty G&T or Collins, but OYO is unlike anything I’ve tried before. That vodka could taste of anything other than paint thinner was revolutionary to me. OYO has actual flavor, and then some. I loathe self-indulgent, over elaborate tasting notes, so to summarize: if you dipped a crisp pear in buttery caramel, studded it with pink peppercorns, and then distilled it, you would have OYO.

I went down to Middle West’s open house last Wednesday to check out where the magic happens. The small building just off Fifth and High in the Short North is spacious, open and modern, the beautiful copper stills dominating the room. Co-owner Brady Konya took us through the place, describing the production process from grain to bottle. I’d encourage you to have a visit yourself to get the full story, but two key notes were sounded repeatedly during our tour: 1) the industrial nature of production used to produce most major vodka brands (cough, Grey Goose) and 2) the hands on, locally sourced philosophy that makes OYO what it is.

It’s worthwhile emphasizing how unique this is. OYO utilizes soft red winter wheat from northwest Ohio, and the honey in their honey and vanilla infused vodka comes from Lancaster (allow a small moment of pride from the native son). Most of the raw materials used to make bourbon—barley, wheat, rye, yeast—come from outside of Kentucky. Even my beloved Scots are sometimes forced to source barley from continental Europe, and the casks that their whisky matures in comes from the US and Spain. As Brady points out, OYO has a real “sense of place” that compares favorably with the “terrior” of wine.

The OYO Honey Vanilla Bean Vodka has proved elusive around town, so I nabbed a bottle from the little shop that fronts the distillery. I’ve had a hard time figuring out the best way to drink both spirits, as I don’t want to smother their character in a heavy handed cocktail. I’d suggest that both deserve to be tried chilled on their own—they’re good enough to merit the same consideration you’d give a fine scotch or cognac. Plus you’ll feel like a burly Russian. If you do decide to mix them, tread lightly with the mixers, as there’s no need to turn something this tasty into Hi-C Punch.

Middle West released the first batch of their whiskey a few weeks back, and the next release is right around the corner in the first week of May. Given how fast the first release sold, it looks like I’ll need to keep my finger on the trigger to nab a bottle. Here’s hoping.

Whole Foods 6 Pack Mondays

I used to hate grocery shopping. Like when you bang into the cart of the lady who parked her butt in the middle of the aisle, and she gives you a dirty look. Or the surly cashier that rolls his eyes because he has to un-bag a solitary item when you tell him you don’t want plastic. Sorry for not wanting to liter the planet, dude, didn’t mean to undo all your hard work. It all leaves me wanting to take a bat to the collective skull of humanity.

Then I found Whole Foods. It’s my happy place.

There are annoyances there as well, like the people who reach for the samples with their bare hands (the toothpicks, folks, are not just for picking crud out of your teeth), or the brats who run circles around displays whilst Mom gives a half hearted, “Don’t do that, Honey”.  But what Whole Foods does better than anyone is creates a cool vibe and make you feel excited about what you’re buying.

Case in point: Six Pack Mondays. From 6-8, a fiver gets you a sampling card with tasting notes plus a wee hobbit sized mug. Stands are set up around the periphery of the store, with six regional beers paired with little gourmet snacks. Packs of soccer moms giggle and couples stroll around shopping leisurely whilst munching and slurping on their tiny mugs. The whole scene comes off like a yuppy neighborhood cocktail hour—but instead of cocktail wieners you get “quorn meatless balls with barbeque sauce” or “pasta rustique”.

Having just polished off my dinner, I unfortunately didn’t try most of the food, apart from the tasty jalapeno cheese bread being served with Bell’s Oberon. It could have been the fact that the wet, miserable weather called for something heartier, but these seasonal spring brews struck me as just okay. Maybe I'll be more enthusiastic when the sun comes out. My impressions:

Troegs Sunshine Pils: I haven’t had too many European style Pils, but this struck me as being slightly sweeter in the middle and earthier hop wise than Pilsner Urquell. Would be great with dogs and burgers.

Elevator Horus: A double red ale from our downtown brewpub. Started off a bit too syrupy sweet, but improved a lot after the hops kicked in to balance it out.

Victory Whirlwind: A serviceable wheat beer, with a dry stick of gum sweetness that would hit the spot on a hot day.

CBC Summerteeth: An annual release from Columbus Brewing, this Kellerbier was a bit too fizzy and cold to tell if it’s any good. I’ll have to look for it on tap around town.

Bells Oberon: Some beer geeks have given this wit beer a hard time for not being as flavorful as Bells other offerings, with even the tasting notes describing it as having “not an incredible taste”. I find it mildly fruity, juicy, refreshing, and I can drink buckets of the stuff. Not everything has to peel the lining off the roof of your mouth to be considered “flavorful”.

Brooklyn Summer Ale: I had to come back to this one, since the first time around a large gaggle of soccer moms were congregating around the stand flirting with the server. Unfortunately, by the time I had made it back Marnie was ready to go, so I slammed it down too quickly to give it due judgment. One to revisit.

I might give the 6 Pack Mondays another go, just to try the food pairings next time around. If nothing else it gives you a chance to try some seasonal brews before you spend all your money on a six pack you end up disliking. And it is certainly nice to have a beer alternative to the many wine tastings around town.

For the sake of my wife... please read this blog

the whisky selection at the Bascule Bar, Cape Town, South Africa

In addition to enjoying a drink or two, I love to talk about them. What they taste like, where they're from, how they're made... I can go on for hours. My wife often plays the captive audience in this little game of give and give, holding out bravely for the first half hour before her eyes begin to glaze over. She tries, bless her, but she's always been more of a PBR or Vodka 'n Coke type of gal, not too interested in what type of grains or still were used in the process. Is it wet? Is it alcoholic? What's more to know?

Some of your reading this, in fact, may have been my past victims-- cornered and nodding intently at my rambling, eyes darting nervously for an escape route, hoping you'll blend into the wallpaper and simply disappear. Sometimes I notice and cut myself off, but more often than not I'll just plow ahead, oblivious. Especially if I'm drinking something particularly scrumptious. It's my version of booze Tourette's:

Triple hopped rye IPA! Worm tube condenser!  Reinheitsgebot! Low wines spirit safe! Gezundheit...

So apologies to everyone I may have offended, amused or otherwise bored to tears in the past. However, there's a good reason for all the fuss: good liquor just tastes fantastic. The same way my wife argues over the merits of the perfect pizza, or others seek out the ultimate burger, I feel the need to dissect the dark arts of fermentation that yield my favorite drinks.

There are blogs dedicated to beer, and whisky, and cocktails. That's nice that some people can pick just one from the bunch, but I'm not one of them. So here we have a blog dedicated to all of them, with a slant towards the stuff produced right here in Columbus and the rest of Ohio. And since I'm likely to rush out and try the newest thing the day it hits the shelves (or tap, or bar), you may as well check in from time to time to see if there's something out there that you haven't yet tried that'll lift your kilt.

So feel free to stop in from time to time, check the calendar to see what's going on in the hood, or drop a comment to let me know if there's something out there that everyone should try. My wife will thank you.