A load of BrewYork'ers descend on NJ Beer Co via heli

We traveled from all parts of the tri-state area; in sporadic clumps, we trickled into New Jersey Beer Company like seafarers in need of a warm pub.  Brew York #4 was about to go down in the history books.

BrewYork is a collective of beer bloggers, homebrewers and professional brewers whose mission is to promote the valor of craft beer.  I guess we’re sort of like the Special Ops Craft Beer Division who have eyes and ears glued to the latest happenings in the beer world.  We’re known to sniff out illicit cask ales and flood the scene when special release parties hit NYC.  If it’s malt-based or hop-centric, we’ll geek out on it like bees to a honeycomb.

The big event each month is “BrewYork”—yep, also the name of the group, so don’t get confused—where  each person brings two of their most prized beers, such as these.

While we are now technically gearing up for BrewYork #7, I went back in time and trolled through my video footage.  What follows is an homage to the colorful cast of characters that compose our group and the shenanigans that transpire when we get together.

65 craft beers, 23 beer geeks & 1 axe murderer.  I give you:  “BrewYork IV” the video:

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A Belgian Tripel at play in the meadows of your mind

Gouden Carolus Tripel, Brouwerij Het Anker, Belgium
(9% abv)

A wolf in sheep’s clothing…yep, that about sums it up.

Belgian Tripels are deceptively smooth and ridiculously drinkable; watch out, though, cause they’ll knock you on your ass lickety-split.  Granted, you’ll have a big smile on your face, but on your ass, you will be knocked.

Bursting at the seams with alcohol, they clock in anywhere between 8% and 12% abv.  They are not your tailgate party tipple.  Instead, they are a long-established Belgian style that will put a few hairs on your chest.

In the initial stages, the brewer uses three times as much malt as they would for their standard Trappist “Simple”.  More malt = more sugar for the yeast to eat = more alcohol.  Finished off with Belgian candy sugar—which gives the beer a lighter body—and enough hops to balance out the sweetness, you’ve got a rocket-fueled steam engine on your hands that handles like a precision Ferrari.

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Long live the grapes, yo, I'm from the Empire State

We live in a wild world here in the city, and it’s all to easy to overlook what’s right at our doorstep.

The state of New York is a powerhouse in the world of wine; to the over 8 million people living in the city, though, the vineyards are far out of mind.

When I first traveled to the North Fork of Long Island—a mere 90 minute car ride from NYC—I felt as if I passed an invisible curtain and the trappings of urban life instantly transformed to bucolic countryside.  Vineyards and apple orchards replaced gas stations and billboards hawking insurance claims.  I was astounded at how close it was and how little I knew about it.

My trips through the Finger Lakes were equally transportive.  The myriad shades of green and rolling hills reminded me of my travels through Ireland in my early 20’s.

I’ve only cracked the surface of learning what lies here in my vinous-filled state, though, so I did some sniffing around the web in search of geeky maps and even-geekier facts to give you an overview of where our juice comes from.  Below is a look at the state as a whole, followed by three of it’s major wine-producing regions (North Fork, Finger Lakes & Lake Erie).

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The Agave leaf: where unbridled soul awaits...

Tequila Reposado, Casa Noble, Mexico
(40% abv)

Tequila: it’s not just for margaritas anymore.

I’m kind of shocked at the sheer number of people that have never tried good tequila…and I don’t mean expensive Tequila, I just mean the authentic kind.

For all those who love it, but have only been weaned off the teet of Jose Cuervo Gold, this is akin to those who’ve drank only Budweiser and call themselves ‘beer lovers’. Tequila is a beautiful spirit, with a rich history and an incredible range of complex flavors.

As the pendulum has finally swung in our favor, we now have artisan products available to us from the backroads of Mexico, as well as Chapels to the Sacred Agave in the form of tequila lounges and bars.  When you taste a great Tequila, the experience can be life-changing. This isn’t a spirit you want to blast with lime juice and sour mix. And you can definitely keep the orange liqueur far away from your lips.  Here’s why:

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Robert Thomas Vineyard - Russian River Valley, CA (J Vineyards)

Happy Halloween, my libation-loving friends.

As the streets are filled with sugar-craving, maniacal little beasties going door-to-door begging for the sweet stuff, the end of October unofficially marks the end of prime time for the 2010 harvest.

While there are still certainly some grapes a-hanging on the vine, for the majority of North American and European wineries, the fruits-of-their-labor have been picked.  No more nerve-wracking, weather-watching, hail-fearing afternoons.  Its time to hang up the shears and disappear into the bowels of the cellar.

So tonight, slip off your Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton costumes, grab a glass of vino and hoist it high in honor of the 2010 grape harvest.  Here’s a pictorial round-up (click on the pics to visit the respective host websites):

Burgundy, France

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Meeting a wild Lambic face to face

Oude Geuze (lambic), Drie Fonteinen, Belgium  

(6.5% abv)  

Last night, one of my co-workers asked me what my favorite beer on our list is.  

I was paralyzed.  Whoa, choose one?  But these are my babies and they’re all unique in their own way!  How could I possibly zero it down to one?  I felt like I was a kid again in front of my grandma’s ridiculously overstuffed toy drawer being told I had to choose one toy for the afternoon.  

But, if I had to, if I had to, I’d go with what I think is the most interesting beer on the list right now.  The Drie Fonteinen Oude Geuze.  Not so much a beer, as a slap across the face.  A 2×4 of sensoral awakening.  It is a mind trip and a walk down the wild side of beer.  

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Beer on my brain (photo by Daniel Krieger)

I was flattered yesterday to receive a wee bit of press on Eater.com for all my beer geeking & drinking.  Aren’t you proud of me, Mom?

Here’s a link to the piece by Greg Morabito which details my current sudsy work at Hearth Restaurant and the two Terroir wine bars“Hearth’s Resident Beer Geek, David Flaherty.”

It got me thinking…with three separate beer programs at three separate locations running at once, maybe I should take a moment to take stock.  I’ve become my frickin’ childhood self again, but instead of collecting M.U.S.C.L.E men or baseball cards, I’m stockpiling beer like ‘Prohibition II’ is just around the corner.

The beers change constantly, and certainly with the seasons, with newbies making appearances as much as possible.  I guess it would be easier to just lock it down and re-order each time, but that’s as painfully boring to me as watching the Jersey Shore.

So far all you fellow beer geeks out there, I’ve posted the pages from our respective beer lists, and here’s a brief sum up of dorky facts that make my pulse quicken like when I scored the 1989 Upper Deck Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card: Continue Reading »

In the luxury world of Champagne, a small rip has appeared in the king’s frock.

There has been a descension in the ranks.  And this thread may unravel to reveal the true beauty that lies underneath the polished exterior.

After centuries of domination, the massive Champagne houses are now seeing small renegades rising out of the cracks of their precious chalk soil.  Who are these brave stalwarts?  Multi-millionaires sweeping in with even-deeper pockets?  An operation named ‘Buffett & Gates’ House of Bubbles‘ setting up shop next door?

No, my friends, they are the grape growers, themselves.  The little guys who own small parcels of land.  Traditionally, they’ve provided the prized grapes and juice to the Moets and the Cliquots.  But now, a select few of them have decided to make their own wines from their own grapes.  They are the resistance in the world where the Death Star is fully operational.

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Armed with pretzel necklaces they came (Photo by Jason E. Kaplan)

The jealousy has finally subsided.    

After a few weeks of dark, introspective depression and nursing myself with chicken soup to ease my wounded soul, I can finally write about the Great American Beer Festival.  I wasn’t there.    

This simple fact, alone, is one that I was reminded of again and again via Facebook status updates, intoxicated and joyful tweets and now the steady stream of pictures, further rubbing in the fact that my home state played host to my heroes, my friends and my dreams.    

The sound of suds? (Photo by Jason E. Kaplan)

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The request was odd.  Create a cocktail for a friend’s baby shower.

Aren’t baby showers supposed to be about silly games, endless cupcakes and a relentless procession of swaddling devices?  And what fun is a cocktail if baby momma doesn’t get to enjoy it?

I put the Jack LaLanne juicer to work.  You remember him—the overly energetic geriatric in skin-tight clothes doing the infomercials interspersed with pictures of him pulling various locomotives and tugboats with his strength alone?  All powered by the glory of fruits and vegetables?  What evolved was the “Mommy’s Final Push”.

The Mommy’s Final Push has a dual meaning (the heart of all cleverness, right?)  Using the final fruits and vegetables of the summer season (mother nature) to support my friend, Clayton’s, final month of pregnancy (the other mommy), I hit up the vegetable market and started concocting.

This was the final recipe sent through the Jack’s Juice Annihilator:  4 cucumbers, 3 pears, 2 yellow peppers and 1/2 lemon.  The juice was diluted with water (to taste) and I added about 4 ounces of simple syrup.  It was ready for mommy.  But for those of us not carrying a little one in our baby box, we would need some booze to liven it up.

I tried the drink with 3 spirits: Vodka, Gin and Soju.  The winner?  Soju.  What the hell is that, you ask?  Well, unless you are Korean, you probably have never seen nor heard of it.  (I, in fact, ended up with a bottle when a friend in the wine biz bailed to the UK and downloaded her liquor and wine cabinet on her friends.)

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NY Craft Beer Week is afoot, gumshoes. Lurking in every alleyway, creeping around each corner and looking to take you over like a bedbug does your sheets.  

It’s off and running.  Officially beginning last Friday, you’ve got seven days left to attack the streets with a penchant for hops and malt, a hunger for conviviality and a fever for action.  

In it’s third incarnation, NY Craft Beer Week now cloaks gotham in a sudsy foam that grows bigger each year. With over 100 beer destinations involved and 30 top-notch restaurants reined in for your pleasure, it’s time for you to get off your ass and out the door. It’s for the love of craft beer, baby.  

For the first time, Hearth Restaurant (my East Village bastion of employment) is in on the action. Teaming up with Fire Island Brewing Company and Edible Manhattan magazine—using local ingredients as part of their Eat Drink Local Week Campaign—we’ve created a 3-course menu with beer pairings sure to knock your socks off (see menu below).   

And at $40/person, this just may be the best deal you’ll ever snarf down in the city.  

Here’s a link to more info on who’s involved, what’s shaking and where to get your piece of the prize:  NY Craft Beer Week Official Site.   

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My first feature article for New York Cork Report came out today.

I was originally asked by Lenn Thompson, my editor, who I’d like to write about in the NYC beer scene–I chose Kelso of Brooklyn.  I’d heard the tales of brewmaster Kelly Taylor; what a great guy he was, how he made the beer for Kelso, for Heartland Brewery, and had done the contract brewing for Six Point Craft Ales.  I’d tasted his beers for years but had never met the man, himself.

Little did I know, he is running one of the largest breweries in New York State.  And right in Brooklyn.  I was inspired by the commitment of one man’s passion.  Click here to read the piece:  Kelso of Brooklyn’s Kelly Taylor:  The Beer Maestro of Brooklyn

And here’s a little video I made to wet your whistle:

The Doctor vineyard is so steep that all picking is done by hand and a wired-trolley system is used to carry grapes from it's slopes (pic courtesy of "The World Atlas of Wine")

Herr Paul Grieco touted the wines for this tasting as “the greatest Riesling from the greatest Riesling vineyard in all of Germany”.

And, I may be mistaken, but I believe he silently wept numerous times throughout (no doubt with at least 5 grams of acid and 10 grams of residual sugar per tear, because that’s how he rolls.)

Like lemmings gathered at the edge of a cliff with naive anticipation, we filled the confines of Terroir EVil last week to take part in one of the most special Riesling tastings to hit Gotham in ages.  We are nearing the end of this year’s Summer of Riesling and were joined by many of the valiant conquerors of the Summer of Riesling 2010 Wine Bar Crawl.

The Bernkasteler Doctor is only 8.1 acres in size but it’s place in the wine world is legendarily grand.  In the 13th century, the Archbishop of Trier was in this area of the Mosel Valley when he bacame deathly ill.  After countless cures didn’t work, he was poured Riesling from a humble flask from this vineyard and was cured.  From then on, it became known as “The Doctor”.  Today, it is the most expensive agricultural land in all of Germany.

Led by Barbara Rundquist-Müller, who currently oversees the vineyard, we were led through seven Rieslings and experienced the “trilogy” that Barbara says make these wines truly special: minerality, fruit and acidity.  The vines are pre-Phylloxeria—their roots travel more than ten meters down and are therefore protected from the louse’s jaws—and clock in at 80-100 years old.

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Pic courtesy of Drinking the World

I guess it was really only a matter of time before I got to my favorite cocktail.

After taking this weekly piece around the world via Charles Lindbergh’s plane (the Aviation), or hopping a boat to Cuba (the El Presidente), whirling through the streets of Paris on a motorcycle (the Sidecar) or drifting through New Orleans at the height of the cocktail craze (the Ramos Gin Fizz), I’m ready to come home.

The Manhattan is my go-to litmus test for any cocktail joint.  It’s the first drink I order before moving on to the more tricked-out concoctions.  It’s a simple drink, in theory, but I’m continually stunned by the wide range of variations you’ll get from bar to bar and bartender to bartender.  It’s sort of like asking a cook to make a scrambled egg.  That simple act, in itself, can reveal the depth of their technique in a minute.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from researching cocktail history, it’s that there’s always a swirl of debate over their true histories.  In the case of the Manhattan cocktail, yep, it was spawned in the city of Manhattan.  That much we know.  The rest gets murky…

Supposedly in the 1870’s, a hob-nobbing crew of rich Democrats gathered at the Manhattan Club in New York City to toast Samuel J. Tilden, the presidential candidate.  It was a lavish affair hosted by Winston Churchill’s mother, Lady Randolph Churchill, and sometime during the night a man named Dr. Iain Marshall invented the drink and poured it for the guests.  The party was a smashing success and, afterwards, it became fashionable to associate one’s self with it by asking for  “a taste of the Manhattan cocktail.”

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