It is a new year, and today is the first day I've been in the US this year. I spent new year's in Honduras and that meant... you guessed it, new biers to try. Now, astute peruser of blogs about God knows what, I'm sure you are bright. I'm sure you make the members of the opposite sex swoon when you pass by because of your cognitive abilities. But if you are not aware of what I'm about to tell you, then I just don't think your existence on this planet has been to this point dignified. Here it is: quality of bier has entirely to do with a brewery's proximity to good, fresh hops, and malt to a lesser extent because it travels better. Build a brewery far from your hop source, and your hops will cost a sinful amount and will be about as fresh as half-eaten roadkill when they get to you. This means that you are more likely to use hops to a lesser extent in your biers due to: 1.)Their cost 2.)Their lack of freshness/quality 3.)Your lack of a clue as to what you're doing. After traveling far and wide, I feel comfortable making the following statement: similar to wine, the best bier is that found in temperate climates in both hemispheres. Doubtless there are a few notable exceptions, unfortunately none of which were the local Caribbean biers I tried in the past ten days. These biers were good and a couple were fine examples of dry pilsners, but they were by no means among the best I've ever tipped back.
Whether we had just finished a day of rafting on the Río Cangrejal or hiking in Pico Bonito National Park or just laying on the beach near Trujillo, I found myself willing to try just about anything. Even if the bartender warned beforehand that what I was about to consume tasted like piss, I promised myself to be open minded. The least delicious bier I had on this trip is called Cerveza Barena which is owned by the company that owns Miller. The bier tasted close to the way described so colorfully by my grinning server except colder. I'd place it somewhere in the vicinity of Corona although lighter. Ultimately you could try to partially mask the unpleasant taste of adjuncts with the use of a lime wedge, or you could just order something else. Fortunately I was paying about 20 Lempiras (~$1) per bottle which made my bad mistakes easier to swallow (not literally though).
My solution to a mouth of nasty was the Honduran national bier called Salva Vida. I shouldn't say anything too bad about it since they are fiercely proud of it. The main things this bier had going for it in my mind was that it was cold and wet and I was tired, sun burned, bug bitten and wanted a new flavor in my mouth. Couldn't get much of an idea of malt character, and there was little bitterness or hop aroma to be found in the milliseconds the drink spent between bottle and belly. I'd order it over Coors products but not Rainier or Olympia, of which I'm fiercely proud (even if they aren't made here anymore).
The next bier is one that I had had before this trip on a prior one to Costa Rica. Imperial, the Costa Rican national bier, has the amount of skunky aroma you'd expect in a German/Bohemian pilsner which made it fun to sip, but not to gulp. And the label is badass.
Savor that. It may be the only time I ever compliment a bier for its artwork. [Here comes a rant] More often than not I find bottle artwork too over the top and noisy. Just tell me about the bier! Where is your brewery located? How many IBUs in this bier? What is the appropriate serving temperature? Don't assume that I'll want to buy it because there is a clever picture involving a mythical creature and some sort of brewing-related hidden double meaning that I am embarrassed to understand. I said it before, I'll say it again, northwest bier is made by hippies, and they are WEIRD.
[Back on track] The best bier I had (besides when I was surprised by a couple of Franziskaner Weissbiers) was a lager that came in a green bottle called Port Royal. This bier reminded me of a pleasant middle ground somewhere between St. Pauli Girl and Pilsner Urquell (both in green bottles too). It was dry, but not too dry. It had the flavor of Hallertauer hops, used traditionally in pilsners. Ultimately it was a dazzling combination of being refreshing enough to drink in somewhat copious amounts while also being unafraid to display a little hop quality and some malt richness. A tough trifecta to hit square on the head, so nicely done to the brewbots at SABMiller, who in this case (as opposed to Barena) have produced a fine example of a drinkable pils.
Before my trip to central America I made a stop in Colorado to discover some beauties that had been right in front of my nose for such a long time that I was certainly a fool for missing them. I am speaking mostly about bier.
When I lived in Ft. Collins I frequently visited New Belgium Brewing and Odell’s Brewing Companies for samples and to ham it up with other people who also love bier an unhealthy amount. A close friend revealed to me, as she often does, the error of my ways in that I had never paid a visit to Ft. Collins Brewery in my year in the CO. After a stop at Odell’s we were off to try, well, a lot of bier. Among my favorites were a pomegranate wheat and a chocolate stout which was balanced perfectly. I love chocolate and dark bier almost as much as Husky victories, and lately I've been having the former in large proportion to the latter. Ft. Collins Brewery also made interesting examples of rauchbier (smoke bier) and schwarzbier (black bier), but both were too harsh for my delicate chocolate-preferring tendencies. Mental note: I must try all of these again when I am not congested.
Well that about catches you up in detailed fashion with the ups and downs of my alcoholic consumption as of late. I have gone from sun to snow in a matter of hours and find myself dizzy from the transition. Maybe I’ll have another Guinness and see if this problem solves itself.
Prost!
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