Tasties from the Motherland - Baltika (St. Petersburg, Russia)

The average person does not automatically equate the name "Russia" with "beer." Generally there are about one hundred other names that come to mind, normally along the lines of "vodka," "cold," "bears," "Commies," and "Putin." While there is certainly a great deal of validity to all of these stereotypes, I was convinced of several other self-evident truths about the Nazi-crushing, Napoleon-annihilating, and warmth-defying country in my year abroad which came to an end less than nine months ago.

Vodka is obviously king. Yet, apart from the shenanigans of various ex-patriots, drunks, and tourists, vodka is generally consumed on special occasions from what I witnessed. Although, as I say this, I can't help but think of the borderline absurd number of local and national holidays throughout the Russian calendar that by all means offer endless opportunities to enjoy the stereotypical national beverage. Interestingly, another beverage that is near and dear to the hearts of the Russian public is cognac, typically imported from Armenia. The French - adhering to the idea that only cognac from their country can be named as such - might disagree with me, but the Armenians aren't fooling around when it comes to this warm sweet liquor. Perhaps I'll review it sometime as a little digression.

Needless to say however, one doesn't simply walk around the Old Arbat in Moscow, or down St. Petersburg's Nevsky Prospekt, with an open bottle of Zelyenaya Marka vodka without expecting to get stopped by one of the several militsiya officers patrolling nearby (who would more than likely accept your bottle as a parting gift). Instead, there is beer. In fact, there is beer within 100 yards of about anything in Moscow and St. Petersburg, including revered monasteries, the Kremlin, and the inner-city estate of novelist Lev Tolstoy. People drink it constantly: I can't help but recall seeing a well-dressed business man walking to work at 8:00 am slugging down a Stella Artois. Hot weather, cold weather, snow, rain, sleet, holiday, holy day, etc. Not to mention it's cheap: you would typically pay anywhere from $1-2 USD for an ice cold half liter of the local brew, and $3-4 USD for some high quality Czech, Polish, and German beers. But, when it came down to it, there was one beer that was king: Baltika from St. Petersburg.

Baltika is a pretty unique brewing company when it comes down to it, and it's all a matter of simplicity. Apart from some clever recent beers such as Baltika "Kooler" (something akin to a Corona I've been told), the beers are named simply by the number, specifically 2-10. (There is also a "0" but it's a non-alcoholic which, unsurprisingly, rarely sells). These numbers are not terribly important; for instance, it does not indicate a grade of darkness or strength but simply a different style of beer. Here is the breakdown:
Baltika 2 - Pale beer
Baltika 3- Classic Pale Lager (4.8%)
Baltika 4- Original (Brown Lager) (5.6%)
Baltika 5- Gold Beer (5.0%)
Baltika 6 - Porter (7%)
Baltika 7 - Export Beer (Pale Lager) (5.4%)
Baltika 8 - Unfiltered Wheat Ale (5.0%)
Baltika 9 - Strong Lager (8%)
Baltika 10 - Jubilee (5.2%)

Of these, the only one I haven't had was Baltika 10. I'm not positive, but it may not even be produced regularly. Honestly, several of these beers taste pretty similar to one another (in particular 2, 3, and 7). Russians criticize Baltika 9 as being too sweet. But overall, I'm not too quick to hate on this line of beer. Sure, I'll admit that no one of them is mind-blowing, but Baltika is great with consistency. Each of these beers is very drinkable, even in the half-liter serving size. You don't fill up too quickly, and at the same time you're never left with an unpleasant aftertaste from any of them. Hell, Baltika 7 even tastes good from a can. Baltika 8 is a nice shot at a wheat beer, often enjoyed by those not so keen on German Heffeweissens (which, honestly, who isn't keen on those things?!). The porter holds its own as well. Overall, there is little room for disappointment with Baltika. Plus, for anyone who has made the trek to Russia, it holds a special place in their hearts always paired with a long series of great stories (I can't help but think of last Valentine's Day...).

So I'm going to give Baltika as a brewing company *** out of ***** (3 out of 5). It's a safe bet in my opinion, which admittedly, might be a bit biased due to my year abroad. But hey, when all else fails, there's always vodka...

Image Accessed at: http://www.europa-food.com/images/beer/Russia-Baltika1-267x100.jpg

Christmas a Month Late - Tröegs Mad Elf

Holiday beers are awesome. About ten come to mind immediately, several with confusing Belgian names, ridiculous label art, and flavors which possess palate annihilating capabilities incomprehensible to modern science. One however, - primarily due to affordability and my present location - comes to mind above all: Tröegs Brewing Company - Mad Elf. Considering the vast number of quests I've gone on, distributors I've hassled, and bartenders I've whined to incessantly over the past two and a half months in regard to this beer, I would feel amiss not reviewing it, even though it's more than a month after Christmas. It would seem to take all of the holiday spirit out of this festive time of year, not unlike Christmas music and commercials that begin playing in mid-October. This however, is one aspect of the holiday season that I don't mind being thrust at me en masse months before and after the actual event it commemorates.

Mad Elf is hardly the best holiday beer. Don't get me wrong. But there's something alluring about this beer. I was introduced to it randomly at a local bar on a slow night. The bartender was kind enough - after a ten minute discussion about IPAs that I'm sure would have made both my roommate and mother cringe and state "Oh not again" - to offer me a free sample glass to get my opinion. It took him a bit to get the head to go down at first, but it subsided relatively quickly revealing the dark, almost ruby color of the beer itself. After examining it, smell, appearance, etc., I took my first of what would be several tastes of Mad Elf.

Mad Elf is categorized as a Strong Dark Belgian-style Ale. For reasons that I'll get to in future posts (more than likely regarding Brewery Ommegang's Three Philosophers or North Coast Brewery's Old Stock Ale), I'm going to set that classification aside. I'll let this beer be its own beast. Regardless, it isn't a terrible idea to put it in a tulip glass (particularly helpful when your local bar has a "Mad Elf tulip glass night."

The smell is of cherry, spices, and honey. Not too distinctive from other Holiday themed Belgian-styled beers. All other senses aside, it's the taste that truly sells this beer. It's sweet, it's smooth, and there are no hints of alcohol. I know I've already mentioned the "alcohol thing" but I have to bring it up again; this beer is 11%ABV. At that point, when you can't taste the alcohol and we're not drinking a barley wine, it's worth mentioning. The cherries and honey hit you right from the get-go, followed by the spices. The spices however, aren't the main event by any means -as they often are in Belgian Holiday ales.

There are a couple of downsides, one with positive connotations for the producers, the other...well, it depends. The ABV is worth paying attention to. As the beer is smooth and sweet, the temptation is to drink it quickly simply to have more of it. This beer is the proverbial "ticking time bomb": you might feel fine drinking several of them (as it also isn't terribly filling), but in about an hour you'll realize that you drank several of them. Imagine that feeling after Thanksgiving dinner where all you want to do is take a long nap. The other issue is that this beer can disappear quickly, especially outside of the Harrisburg area. By the time I got home on Christmas break - nearly two weeks before Christmas - it was next to impossible to find it. The word was that within the span of about a week, calls were coming in nearly five to six per hour requesting this beer. They simply couldn't keep it on the shelves.

While certainly not the greatest of holiday beers, Mad Elf has a seemingly endless appeal for all who have tasted it. Therefore, in conclusion dear readers: act quickly, drink safely, and enjoy the tastes of the holiday season.

Tröegs Mad Elf - ****/***** (4 out of 5 stars)

Image accessed at: http://www.realbeer.com/blog/images/20081223-madelf2.jpg

A Trip with the Damned - Unibroue La Maudite (Chambly, Quebec)

I feel if one is to start anywhere when talking about beer in particular, one might as well begin at the top. While I might not be able to say that any one of these beers is hands-down my favorite, they've come pretty close on a number of occasions. The first review therefore, is of Unibroue, a Quebec-based brewery just shy of its twentieth year in operation.

I'm not entirely sure how I stumbled upon this company. I'm going to have to give credit to the large number of Quebec-based students that happened to be studying with me in Russia less than a year ago. They couldn't help but brag about their local beer and how they missed it. Right. Canadian beer. My first inclination was to think back to the "Second City TV" skit from the mid-seventies featuring Rick Morranis and Dave Thomas as brothers Bob and Doug Mckenzie, the stereotypical hockey-watching, back-bacon loving, and Molson-downing Canadians. In short, "Canada" did not equal "beer." I had no idea how wrong I was.

Although there were any number of things that the Quebecois would claim having gotten right (including the French language, women in general, and the French-Indian War of the 1750s), I discovered that they had a definite point when it came to beer. On my twenty-first birthday I made my way to a New Jersey beer distributor and purchased a four-pack of what would be my first Unibroue, La Maudite.

This beer blew my mind from the get-go: the art on the packaging and bottle itself is unique featuring a devil slightly below a small ship gone awry (paying homage of course to its name which translates as "The Damned). Each Unibroue is considered an "Ale on Lees" meaning that it is bottled with a layer of its own yeast. Originally, from what I have been told, the purpose of this was to allow the beer to ferment longer without lengthening the pre-bottling process. Either way it leaves a lingering layer of yeasty goodness on the bottom, only accentuated once the bottle itself is cracked.

I fiddled for nearly five minutes with a bottle opener before realizing that this beer - $10 for a four pack - has a twist-off cap. Regardless, I poured it into a tulip glass and let it sit. As it was advertised in the style of a "Strong Belgian" I was aware that it would only improve with a little bit of a warm-up. The color was a very dark amber, made cloudy by the yeast layer I previously mentioned. I know some people who are a bit taken aback by a cloudy beer. Trust me, this is nothing to worry about. Scent-wise, think fruity at first followed up by some dark caramels. But think quickly, the smell doesn't linger for too long. Enough with the visual stuff. Let's get to the point here: how did it taste?

Any beer over about 5% ABV terrifies people. I don't know what it is. I figure, you're drinking beer, so go figure, you might get a little buzz going. It might however, be that in the case of alcohol in general, a higher-than-you're-used-to ABV implies a taste sacrifice. This is not the case with this beer. While at first your mouth needs to acclimate to the carbonation, you aren't tasting the 8% ABV of La Maudite. Just sweet enough, just dry enough, and not overwhelming in the least, little hints of the caramel you may have smelled if you have a nice pretentious nose for these sort of things. The only thing to be careful of is just this: the taste. The beer goes down easily once you're used to its flavor; the ABV, while not something to be tasted, is still there.

Overall, I believe I gave this beer about ****1/2 out of *****, which, as you'll find out if you keep reading, is incredibly good. I highly recommend just about any beer by this company, but this is definitely one of my favorites.

Image accessed at: http://www.brewpalace.com/Images/Beer/Unibroue-Maudite.jpg

An Introduction of Sorts

Beer. It's not just that fizzy yellow stuff shoved in your face every third commercial during a sports event. It's no longer just the ingredient of a Boilermaker, ordered after a long day of work at the mill. And, thankfully, it's also not just the liquid chugged at an alarming rate, sans saveur by an endless stream of testosterone-fueled men - all members of one college organization or another - hoping to impress anyone and everyone in a twenty mile vicinity with feats of gut-expanding proportions.

No, beer has become something for everyone. Microbreweries, craft-brews and never before heard-of imports are rapidly entering the hearts, minds and the very souls of the American populace. Names like Dogfish Head (DE), Victory (PA), and Troegs (PA) invaded both the local and national lexicon seemingly overnight. Terms like "IPA" and "ESB" suddenly began to turn heads as if somewhere, in some mystical land, a Beer Rosetta Stone had been unearthed and decoded. "Beer bars," "brew pubs" and "Belgian-style restaurants" started popping up throughout cities and small towns alike, creating an entirely new generation of beer drinkers throughout the country.

So what happened? Why the sudden change? The answer to this is hardly rooted in the works Marx, Rousseau, or -luckily, for my own sake- Michel Foucault. In my amateur opinion, people wanted beer that tasted good. At whatever the cost. After decades of having three or four options in a given town - of which Heineken or St. Pauli Girl represented the pinnacle of imported beer - people needed a change of pace. Entrepreneurial merchants and prospective pubmasters took matters into their own hands and took a crack at the fine art of brewing. And what happened? Some pretty damn tasty things.

This brings me to this blog. Why am I writing this? I've always loved traveling, and in traveling, I've had the opportunity to try any number of delicious things that I would have otherwise never been able to get my hands onto. Beer is perhaps paramount among these. Having only turned twenty-one a number of months ago, I was unable to publicly sample the brew-tastic talents of Smutty Nose (NH), Rogue (OR), or Stone (CA). I did however, receive the chance to do so in Germany, Russia, and any number of other European countries, and frankly, it blew my mind. Corona used to seem to be the perfect summer beer. Guinness was the very godhead watching over St. Patrick's Day. Yuengling was the everyman's beer. And perhaps there is some justification to these statements. The fact is, there's so much out there. So much.

I want to try it. If it's liquid, made of hops and/or barley and other grains, bring it on, be it a 3.5% ABV or a mind-numbing 22% ABV. I don't care if it's from a state with a rival sports team or a country we're at war with. Do they have beer? Good enough for me. That's why I'm writing this blog. I'm here to open up my mind and the minds of anyone who read this in the hopes of proving that beer is more than what it once was. It can be a great thing, and it can at times be a rotten thing. But that is what adventures are all about.

Note: I should probably note the following. I am by no means affiliated with any brewing company, pub, distributor or otherwise. I'm simply a guy tasting some beer. Unless otherwise cited, all opinions written herein are my own.