Trois Mousquetaires Kellerbier in a cellar

We already know the Three Musketeers from an earlier post in which I reviewed their Schlicke Alt, and today we present another entry in the category "somewhat obscure German beer styles brassée au Quebec". This beer is a Kellerbier - literally cellar beer. The style originates from the Franconia region in Germany, and while this region is part of Bavaria, making up its norther part, the people there do not consider themselves Bavarian and speak their on dialects. They are on par with the Bavarians, however, when it comes to beer drinking. The name of the region and the people derives from the Franks, one of several Germanic tribes that settled what is now Germany in and around the 2nd to 4th century A.D. They are the original French people, if you wish, and they make such delicacies as Lebkuchen (a heavenly style of gingerbread) and Rauchbier. They are also known for their wine making and the famous Bocksbeutel bottles in which the wine is sold. During late July, the city of Kulmbach in Upper Franconia hosts a Bierfest that could be considered a better Oktoberfest than the more famous one in Munich. As you might expect, Franconia is also famous for beer brewing, with a small brewery in just about every village, and locals are known to go on beer hikes that take them through forests and mountains with pit-stops at local brewpubs along the way. Now that's my kind of hiking!

Moving on to the beer, I decided that a Kellerbier should be photographed in locations that evoke basements and cellars - see below. The style itself should be unfiltered and malty, with low carbonation and an amber colour. Our sample from Les Trois Mousquetaires meets some of those standards quite well, even as I thought the beer's appearance was a little too dark. But malty this beer was, indeed, with plenty of dark grain bitterness and tart malt acidity on the front and middle palates. The lupulus bitterness soon takes over, even as I thought the blend of grain and hops was not quite successful. I did wonder why they branded this cellar dweller as a "golden lager,"  since the colour was far from golden and in any event, the (appropriately) cloudy appearance dulled any sense of golden-ness.

The beer in my basement, where it belongs among its brethren:

Lvivske Premium Lager: A sign of hope?

Tonight I drank a beer from the Ukraine, and this post must go out tonight because tomorrow, the famous Ukrainian football club Dynamo Kiev is playing against my club, Borussia Mönchengladbach, in a Champions League qualifying match. Dynamo destroyed us in the first leg 3:1 in Mönchengladbach - thanks to some callous tactics, crafty skills, a well-organized defense, and two goals that were rather lucky. No matter, and while there seems little to play for in the return match for Borussia, anything is possible in football. I remember Dynamo Kiev from the 1970s with the great Oleg Blochin, who was coaching the Ukrainian side during this year's European Championship. It has been just about that long ago since Borussia has had any significant success, but the faithful stay loyal and it would be no shame to go out against Dynamo!

The beer I had is not from Kiev, but from Lviv, the main city in Western Ukraine, which the part of the country from which my wife's family came to Canada in the early parts of the 20th century and where Ukrainian rather than Russian is the main language. For a number of reasons, including my wife's heritage, I have a soft spot for Ukraine, and Lvivske Premium Lager is the first Ukrainian beer I have ever tasted. Unfortunately, being here in Canada means I only get those brands that have been gobbled up by large multinational breweries, this one belonging to the Carlsberg Group - not a good omen. Lvivske had a slightly skunky nose, which was not a big surprise given the green bottle, and a very pale golden colour that is visible in in the refraction of the background of the picture below. While the bubbles in the bottle (one even came out and stayed for some 20 seconds after the initial pouring) signal good malt quality, the head was quite fizzy and did not last very long. Taste-wise, the malt flavours were very dry, with some white bread notes up front and a middle palate that had gone AWOL. The mouthfeel was thin, and there were some faint grassy hops flavours. The back palate was clean, but with a lingering bitterness that made me think of ashtray. Overall, I take this as a signal that everything is not lost yet. While Lviv is not Kiev, Lvivske represents Ukraine, stirring in me the slight of fancy that the unsatisfactory character of this beer foreshadows the impossible!

A nice detail from the label and the bottle cap:

Pennsylvania on Tröegs beer by bike

Hey beer friends - it's been a few days, but I was out on a motorbike trip to Pennsylvania - 3 days, just over 2000 km, and roads like rollercoasters and switchback trails. But the beers - well let me tell you that it is very difficult to taste your way through the local beer scene there when you are traveling by motorbike because for reasons that defy even the the most bizarre Republican logic (and we met a few right wing dogs down there, I assure you), you can ride your motorbike without a helmet but you cannot buy beer other than in a government licensed outlet and only in cases of 24. I had heard about this mind-boggling regulation before and read that it has been the bane of the local craft brewing scene. How can you get people to try something new and different to find a new favorite if they must purchase at least 24? What if it is swill or swine's spit? What if the brewer is a charlatan and laced your amber nectar with cheap corn or rice adjuncts? What if you simply have no clue what good beer tastes like and cannot handle something that does not taste like dirty sweat from a redneck's armpit? Tough shit, if you live in Pennsylvania, and shit just as tough if not tougher if you are a new local brewer trying to make friends.

Thanks to the good people who make large side cases for big motorbikes, we had enough room to a buy a case of 24 from the Tröegs Brewing Company in Hershey, PA. We bought this because they offered an "Anthology" sampler case, including a 6-pack of four different brands. One odd thing about the name of this brewery is the use of the Umlaut. Technically speaking, if you have the ö already in the name, you do not need the e any more because oe is equivalent to ö. What is it anyway with marketers who think that including an Umlaut in the name of a brand - beer or other - lends some exotic allure or wild mystique to a product? And never mind people trying to pronounce these vowels.

Anyhow, given that we rode our mules from morning until nightfall, there was not much opportunity for me take photos of these beers in a glass during daylight, and not having a glass with me did not help either. So please accept my apologies for not showing any pics of beer in a glass - all 24 were killed off on two nights of trying to fill up on fluids and electrolytes after the day's ride. We did manage to gulp down a beer (from the bottle) immediately after our purchase in the parking lot of the beer store, given that we had been on the road for some 7 hours on a hot day already. This first one was the Dreamweaver Wheat Ale, and it hit the spot. Of the four beers in this case, this was easily the top pick. It was a relatively authentic Bavarian style Wheat, with some yeast sediment in the bottle, satisfying bread flavours, and a rich palate with just enough hops to sweep the rear-end clean. The other three were less impressive, even if it was clear that they were made with quality ingredients. The Pale Ale was probably the second of the bunch - a nice beer with an assertive hop bitterness and lots of flowery hop aroma and flavour. The Hopback Amber Ale combined those qualities with a nice burnt toast and dark caramel grain body. Finally, the Sunshine Pils was the weakest - very disappointing to me because Pils is certainly one of my favourite styles. The beer was not bad, but it did not taste like a Pils - too much flowery hops notes, not enough malt sweetness, no velvet mouthfeel, and a poor balance between sweet and bitter. Overall, I also thought a weakness of those latter three beers as a family was that they all had a very similar hops character that varied only in intensity, but not in taste.

Here are some photos from the trip, and details from the delightful packaging imagery.

A fine label doing justice to the abundant hops aromas and flavours.

The Anthology Sampler Case art work:

The bottle cap:

Details from the sampler case art work (great stuff):

Mexican Sin: Corona Extra

Forgive me, fellow beer lovers, for I have sinned. Attending a soccer game between the Montreal Impact and the San Jose Earthquakes on Saturday, and sitting (or rather, standing) in the section for the local Ultras, my participation in the chants and screaming made me thirsty, so I needed a beer. A professional sporting event in Canada is not the best place for a thirsty beer snob, because inevitably, you will have to make do with the swill made by one larger brewer or the piss brewed by another. In addition, you have to compromise your snobbishness at a cost that makes you want to fart with derision into the general direction of those responsible for the price gouging.

My sin, then is that I chose to drink a Corona Extra in a can of Midget Extinguisher size. My alternative would have been Coors Light, and so I think that I managed to pick the lesser of two evils. The serving staff even tried to push a piece of lime, which I simply ignored and left behind because I hate foreign objects in my beer! To deepen my shame, I had to drink the Corona either out of the can or pour it into a plastic cup. Since I wanted to show the colour of the beer, I had to stoop even lower and commit this final dirty beer deed. One small saving grace here is that because the beer came in the can, I was able to avoid the potential damage to beer caused by exposure to sunlight (it creates skunkiness), which inevitably happens to Corona in its normal clear glass bottle.

And if you think my suffering stopped here, think again. Not having my camera equipment with me, I had to take the photos with my cell phone. I despise those little stinking pieces of technological shit that so many people use to trumpet their private conversation in public or that ring in places and/or at times when personal attention to others or a common experience with them is asked for. When cameras were built into those little annoying machines, I thought "hey, maybe there is something useful to be gained," But the quality of the pictures my cell phone takes is so abysmal, that I can only revert to my old dictum: If you want to take photos, use a camera, not a telephone! Please forgive the poor quality of the pictures below and understand that the main reason I am posting this is because I am obligated to confess my sins.

The ultimate humiliation was drinking this beer - and my apologies go out to all those other beers that I have featured on this blog in the past because they do not deserve to be put into the same category as today's feature. I once read in a beer book that a particular product tasted like wet card board, and I think I finally know what this means. This beer tasted like little else other than sweetish adjunct, with little discernable bitterness or hops flavors - only a hint of hey or grass. Thank God that the Impact won the game 3:1 and there were 3 red cards to help divert my attention away from the beer. For once, having one beer did not make me want to have another. Let my sins be forgiven!

Bohemian Pilsner

I have talked previous about Pilsner beer, but that Pilsner has been the German type, not the original style developed in the town of Plzeň in Bohemia, in what is today the Czech Republic. The town is called Pilsen in German, as that part of the Czech Republic used to be German speaking for many centuries. The original Bohemian Pilsner beers have a darker, more golden colour than their German counterparts and malt flavours that drip a hint of caramel on thoroughly wholesome and nourishing bread tastes. On my visit to Plzeň during the mid-1990s, I much enjoyed my visit to the original Plzeňský Prazdroj brewery, brewer of the famous Pilsner Urquell that is also available in North-America, leaving a trail of saliva on the floor all the way to the tasting room, where we were served a pint fresh from the lager tanks. Plzeň also has a vast network of underground tunnels, which the ingenious people there used to store and transport beer, making sure that none of the good citizens ever stayed thirsty for too long during times of siege.

My featured beers today are intended to equally treat both modern nations of the former Czechoslovakia. Sadly, Pilsner Urquell is no longer available in Quebec, and so the next most famous Bohemian Pilsner had to fill in to represent the Czech Republic. Czechvar is what this beer is nowadays called, but its original name is Budweiser Budvar, brewed in the town of České Budějovice. This is also a town that used to be part of German speaking lands - its German name is Budweis - and Budweiser was a traditional style of brewing beer. The (in-) famous American beer Budweiser brewed by Anheuser-Busch is named after this very style of beer. Over the years, AB have asserted their corporate muscle to prevent the good people of the Budweiser Brewery (Budějovický Pivovar - hence Budvar) to use the Budweiser brand name in North America and other places. The name Czechvar therefore seems like modern tragedy to me. But make no mistake: drinking a Czechvar is like eating Filet Mignon, while drinking American Budweiser is like eating entrails boiled in smelly socks. This beer has all the characteristic of those German malts that I would kill for, bringing in some toffee to balance the raw bread flavours with a light toast character. The hops are assertive, with slight floral aromas and subtly lingering bitterness. The back of the palate is not dry, but mingles sweet and bitter like Romeo and Juliet (and just as tragically).

Our second entry is from Slovakia, the Golden Pheasant lager, which used to be made by the Zlatý Bažant Brewery in Hurbanovo (formerly Stará Ďala). The brand is now part of the Heineken portfolio, and I imagine that it is likely a result of this global acquisition that this beer cannot live up to Czechvar or other Bohemian standards in terms of enjoyment (unlike the Slovakian national soccer team, who qualified at the expense of the Czech Republic surprised with good results at  the 2010 World Cup). While the malt palate of this beer is still quite pleasant and features similar caramel notes, it is nowhere as rich as Czechvar and has less viscosity in its mouthfeel. The hops bitterness is more subtle than Czechvar yet still no-nonsense (especially compared to the North-American Budweiser and its ilk), but there are no floral aromas to speak of. This beer is nothing special, even though I still wanted more after finishing the 500ml bottle.

Bottle detail:

Les Trois Mousquetaires Sticke Alt

Alt beer is a fine tradition of Düsseldorf, capital city of the German state of North-Rhine Westphalia. Founded in the 12th century and largely destroyed during the second world war, Düsseldorf was rebuilt and is today a fine place to visit for the many pubs that offer Alt in the Altstadt (go there also for a football match to experience a pitch invasion). Alt is an ale, not a lager, and is made with dark malts for a copper colour, two facts that makes Alt unusual for a German beer. Alt is also the German word for old, alluding to the way beers used to be made in the good old days when beer was served for breakfast and lunch as the main course. Sticke Alt is a special type of Alt, typically being higher in alcohol and more pronounced in one or more other characteristics. The Oxford Companion to Beer states that the word Sticke is derived from a local word for gossip, and that when a brewer made a beer that was stronger and more nourishing, the word spread via the grapevine so that only those who were well connected knew when and where to get it. This shows once again that it is not about what you know, but who you know.

The featured Sticke Alt from la Microbrasserie les Trois Mousquetaires comes in a mighty 750 ml bottle and boasts 6% alcohol by volume. Not a bad find, thanks to the good word from my trusted sources, I must say. The brewery is located in Brossard, on the infamous South Shore across the river from Montreal, a place that is the epitome of a North-American suburban horror show. I brought this beer into the hot tub and found that she made a good figure in front of the artificial waterfall. I love the copper colour of this beer and the head was out of this world (see picture below). It has a strong dark grain flavour, starting off with some acidic notes but then morphing into a pleasant grain bitterness of burnt toast. The lingering hops bitterness combined well with the grain in the way stouts manage to marry those two flavours. All for one beer and all beers for one!

Label detail - the three lads plus d'Artagnan:

Evidence of an abundance of miniscule bubbles (with a few big ones inbetween) in the super-creamy and rock-solid head of this beer.

Mad beer part 2: la Vache Folle ESB

Let me assure you that drinking all these different beers takes very little time, but that finding the right spot to take a photo can be complicated and writing about the beer is time consuming. In fact, I now have a back-log of beers in my fridge that are waiting to be featured, and each night I am not in a position to take a photo I lose several hours of lifespan because of un-extinguished thirst. How can I keep it up if there are so many tasty beers out there waiting to be photographed, drunk, and then written about? I guess I better stop whining, get mad, and move on top of the situation.

After yesterday's Mad Tom, today's beer is a Mad Cow - or a crazy cow - made by the Microbrasserie Charlevoix in Baie Saint-Paul on the shore of the St Lawrence about an hour north-east of Quebec City. Formerly fronted by the Saint-Pub, this brewery makes a number of fine strong beers (under the brand name Dominus Vobiscum). The pub still exists, but the brewery is now in a different location of the town. Although I have been there only once in 2004, the pub has left fond memories, as has the entire Charlevoix region. In addition, all of the beers by Charlevoix that I have tried over the years come in a fine 500 ml size - very commendable!

I have not seen many beers of this style brewed by Canadian (or Quebec) microbreweries: an Extra Special Bitter (ESB). The style was spearheaded in the 1970s by the UK brewery Fuller, Smith, & Turner with their Fuller's ESB. FS&T are trying to maintain the term ESB as a trademark in the UK, but in the US it has become popular as a style and is subject to various interpretations. I like this mad beer quite a bit, even if it does not deliver all that the label promised - there were few flowery hop aromas to be noticed. Still, a strong and lingering bitterness dominates the palate from front to finish, balanced with toast and caramel malt tastes. The colour of this beer is close to the original Fuller's ESB, I believe, the hazy appearance suggests it has not been filtered, and its malt character imparts a fine grain bitterness and acidity to the front and middle palate. At 6%, this brew will get you mad if you have only one and cannot get more, while having three or more will certainly result in some craziness.

A detail from the label: Truly madly crazy.

Mad Tom IPA

My wife and I, and especially my wife, have been on a search for an IPA in Quebec that has some of the characteristics of the West Coast interpretation of this style. A brew with hops flavours so potently aromatic that they make your palate pucker up and the back of your throat gasp for air; a beer that is truly pale, rather than the typical Quebec interpretation, with its copper malt colour and dark grain flavours, which I have already mentioned on a previous occasion. Having lived in Vancouver and being a frequent visitor to Vancouver Island, I have had ample opportunity to sample the brews out in Western Canada, from Hophead IPA by Tree Brewing in Kelowna or Hop Circle by Phillips Brewery in Victoria. The Immortal IPA by Elysian Brewing Company in Seattle also still lingers in my head as an example of the super-hopped-up style. Keys for those beers in my opinion are (1) using lighter malts than those used for Quebec IPA, (2) brewing some of the hops for a short duration (i.e., less than 15 minutes) to give the beer a delicious flowery hops nose, aroma and flavour, and (3) dry hopping, which means leaving fresh hops immersed in the beer during fermentation to produce even more of those flowery hop aromas.

We finally found a beer that comes close to those West Coast IPAs, the Mad Tom IPA from the Muskoka Brewery in Bracebridge, Ontario. Sadly, it is only available in Midget Extinguisher format, but the content satisfies thoroughly. It makes me a little bit mad that Tom is not available in Quebec yet truly madly content that getting some of this stuff is a good excuse for a short motorbike ride on the weekend to the Puritan province where the Anglos live.

Now the taste of this beer is of the finest order - heavenly even - and therefore worthy of a shot in front of a Catholic church. When you stick your nose in this beer (should be a narrow glass, as seen below) you will get the wonderful hops aroma of flowers in full blossom. The colour is an orange-gold mix and the dominant character on the palate is grapefruit. The is not much grain and certainly no bread flavours but enough pale malt sweetness to mix with the citrus hops aromas to create the grapefruit taste.A lingering bitterness accompanies the tangy mouthfeel to a dry finish.

I also find the imagery on the packaging quite noteworthy, especially the images of our pal Mad Tom on the neck of the bottle and the cardboard of the six-pack. On the bottle, there is poor Tom, his canoe has sunk, but at least he still has a barrel of the old IPA to hold on to. Better drink it fast!

The six-pack carton: Tom's eyes look truly mad here - unlike the forlorn look of resignation above.

Belle Gueule Pilsner: A Löschzwerg on the mountain

At the risk of becoming repetitive and monotonous, I was on the top of a mountain today and I felt a tremendous thirst that needed to be extinguished. The local depanneur had a selection of beers, although exclusively in midget extinguisher size containers. The Belle Gueule Pilsner is the sister to the original Belle Gueule lager, with which it should not be confused. Both beers are fine brews by les Brasseurs RJ in Montreal, but the original Belle Gueule has a Munich or Vienna quality unlike most Canadian-brewed German style beers (notable exception to come in a future post, and that makes two more beers I will have to drink - poor me). For today, and not quite enough to extinguish my thirst, the Pilsner was the only choice from les Brasseurs RJ, which is a very nice interpretation of more northern German style Pilsener beers.

Les Brasseurs RJ are the outcome of a merger of three breweries, among which les Brasseurs GMT were the first microbrewery in Montreal, les Brasseurs de l'Anse were a regional brewer from the Saguenay Valley, and Brasserie Cheval Blanc was a separate brewery from the also well known Montreal brewpub of the same name (my readings tell me both were set up by the same person - references are available upon request). These fine people have since continued brewing their best products, helped bring the beers of the Bitburger Group into Quebec, and set up shop in the Plateau Montreal district, with a hall available to rent for private functions.

The Belle Gueule Pilsner has an exemplary malt character for a Canadian lager, close to the ultimate standard of German malt in a blond lager style. While there is some faint (mainstream Canadian) candy sweetness somewhere in the front of my palate, toward the middle, a rich taste of bread grain spreads on my tongue, saying (because it is  German malt flavor) "hallo mein Freund, lösch deinen Durst!" So I said "But how? - You're only a midget extinguisher! A Löschzwerg!" Still, Belle Gueule Pilsner is technically well made and has a sophisticated hop character that makes for a balanced taste from front to back and serves up a dry finish.

PS: let me add that I like the symmetries in the first photo below, the way certain elements line up and others criss-cross or diverge. I also like the refraction of the background through the clear golden colour of the amber nectar.

A Beer on a Mountain Part 3: DAB

Continuing with the fabulous backgrounds the Laurentian mountains have provided for my starlets over the past few days, I took advantage of the spooky mood that a cloud-covered mountain can provide and served up an Export from the Dortmunder Action Brauerei (DAB). I have to admit that I have never been to Dortmund, but given the rivalry of my favorite football club with the one from Dortmund and the heinous insolence through which Dortmund copied my team's club name, I find it appropriate to give the DAB a nice haunting stage design. Indeed, Dortmund is located in the industrial heartland of Germany, the Ruhrgebiet in which coal and steel industries have always been the backbone. I contrive stark silhouettes of smoke stacks and factories in heavy fog as an alternative, industrial view, compared to the actual nature view in the photo below. Smoke stacks and factories would also make an interesting stage design for another day's malt star.  What is in the future for heavy industry? The same as for brewing, I imagine, where we have seen consolidation followed by creative niche specialization. The big get bigger and work based on an engineer's logic, the small stay small and work based on an artisan's logic, and the middle is squeezed out because they are not big enough to meet the demands of the engineer, and they are too large to be seen as a legitimate artisan. Good thing that DAB is playing legitimately among the big boys, I should say, because I enjoyed extinguishing my thirst with this DAB specimen, arriving in what appears to be a recently re-done can design.

I do not believe it is well known outside of Germany that Dortmunder is actually considered a beer style of its own, developed as an alternative to Pilsener and Munich lagers. What makes this beer appealing to me is the mouthfeel, which is a rich and velvety blend of breads, balanced with subtle hops bitterness.DAB beer has the typical German malt flavors that make me drool like a dog - think of a Ukrainian Easter Braid loaf or a fresh croissant. I have never tasted a Canadian beer that has this same rich malt taste, while Dutch and Czech beers do have it, and so I speculate that this has something to do with the difference between North American grown and European grown barley. The malt flavours in most Canadian beers are less bread-like and rather dry, more akin to Melba toast. DAB's gentle hop flavors make the taste of sweet malted barley fields become more pronounced but still provide a nice clean palate at the end. Dortmund, I spit on your football, but I savour your beer!

Boddingtons on a hum-drum Mont Onontio

Some of Manchester's finest once sang "The rain falls hard on a hum-drum town," and for a Mancunian beer such as Boddingtons it seemed appropriate to take it out on a walk through the woods in drizzling conditions. Sadly, I have to admit that this post should have been done sometime before the 1980s when Boddingtons was still an independent brewery, simply to give my stage presentation more honesty. Facing the competitive and political pressures from other brewing interests means today that Boddington may still be called the "Cream of Manchester" but it certainly is not brewed there anymore at the old Strangeways Brewery. Indeed, as so many that have felt the pressure of globalization, Boddingtons has now become an AB-InBev brand. On the bright side, I was not so much concerned about the temperature, as a British ale will always respond well to lower temperature serving conditions. I am a little embarrassed and ambivalent about the container with the "widget", appalling to the purist in me, yet its copy creation of a a draft beer is reassuring that even on the peak of a small mountain, with no amenities other than an ample supply of old shoe parts, a draft beer can be enjoyed without a care in the world. Boddingtons is technically well made. The sweet malt of caramel and toast on the front palate finishes in a nice dark crystal malt acidity, and both malt characters are well accompanied by a mellow lingering bitterness. All this, of course, typical for British ales. The widget's magic also meant that the mouthfeel of this beer was indeed creamy and characteristically low in carbonation. Ah, a draft beer with a view!

See how the widget creates three layers of beer when you pour it, including the in-between head and liquid stage seen in  the picture below, which friends who do serious research in beer brewing tell me is a serious topic of study.

One has to like the copper appearance - smooth and creamy, as it says on the can.

Schneider Weisse on a Mountain

Ah, German beer. How do I love you? Let me count the ways. I love the richness of your flavours that signal top notch quality raw materials; I love the brewing standards that make for an impeccable achievement of authentic style; I love the quaffableness (or is it quaffability?) that allows me to drink you in vast quantities. I could go on, but let's stop here and turn our attention to the beauty of the day. Schneider Weisse - a classic among Bavarian wheat beer - I fell in love with it in Munich, where I lived for two years as a teenager. Even though Schneider Weisse literally means Schneider White, this original brand is actually a dark wheat beer (copper, rousse), something one would hardly see in a Belgian wheat beer (notable exceptions are brewed in Quebec). And I took this specimen to the top of Mont Tremblant, making sure a Bavarian beer receives a quasi-Bavarian backdrop. Unfortunately, certain compromises had to be made to take the photo. I would have liked to serve up Schneider in a real Weissbierglass, but it would have been too bulky to take one up the mountain, given that I was already carrying my camera equipment, the 500ml bottle, and various other things. Another issue was the serving temperature - my aims are not just toward the picture but more importantly the savoring of the beer, and a wheat beer should be enjoyed chilled. I made it just about in time, so my refreshment on the peak of the mountain was still cool. On the up side, walking up and around the mountain for a while made for a convenient way to mix some of the yeast sediment into the beer, which you can see in the cloudy appearance below. I do think the mountainous backdrop made this beer taste particularly refreshing, or maybe it was the walking... Either way, the Schneider Weisse has a dominating acidic character that comes with certainty from the yeast flavours (sour dough bread) but possibly also from the dark malts. The taste is bread all the way - I always knew beer is a food, and I am sure the reader will agree with me. Overall, this is a nicely balanced beer that makes you want to yodel of joy into the valleys below.

Heineken vs Pabst Blue Ribbon at the Olympics

Today I conducted a beer comparison that I want to share with the reader. It is a comparison that was rigged right from the start, not because I wanted it that way but because it was the way it worked out, given the talent available in my area. And it was a comparison I just had to make, for a number of reasons, some of which may become apparent below. Think about a soccer match at the Olympics and follow the score: At kickoff, let's examine the formations of the teams: Heineken is in a tall bottle of 650 ml, while the Pabst Blue Ribbon comes in a 355ml can. The former has a strong lineup, coming not only in a bottle rather than a can, but also in a decent size, above the diminutive stature of Midget Extinguisher, where we find the Pabst. Opening up play and bottle, Pabst Blue Ribbon's nose is a faint and sweet grain smell, while Heineken's is slightly skunky. Neither side is living up to what a truly snobbish fan would expect. As play unfolds, I pour both beers and manage to build a nice cap on the Heineken, while the head of the Pabst tends to fizzle very quickly. The packaging and appearance of the beers, which are otherwise quite similar, means a score from a set play for Heineken. It appears that both teams are now ready for a break, and PBR is down at half-time. After a short break, the whistle blows to start the second half. While PBR shows itself technically competent it has not enough style to turn things around. Heineken has a richer mouth-feel and more elaborate bready malt taste, compared to PBR's watery palate and its sweetness that starts and then lingers on the palate. There are no hops attacks in sight from PBR. Heineken manages to score on a late counter attack and clears the palate for a clean sheet. Even in time added on, we see Heineken control the play with a clearly superior lacing. But what is that? The officials are annulling the game and claim to have disqualified Heineken from the competition because it is sold in a green bottle. The snobbish fan is crushed as he listens to Frank articulate the political reasons behind the disqualification.

A nice bubble attests to malt quality.

The lacing, with the glasses in reverse position due to the tasting process and concurrently exuberant inattention.

Cascade Spéciale

Venturing out further into the more exotic offerings of the Quebec micro-brewing scene, I tried the Cascade Spéciale from Brasseurs Illimités' Simple Malt line of beers. The brewery is located in Saint-Eustache, just north-west of Montreal, and I had tried their Alt beer with some satisfaction about a year ago. I have to admit, that this is another brewery about which I know very little - it is a member of the third generation craft brewers in Quebec. The craft brewing movement started here, as elsewhere in Canada, in the 1980s, followed in the 1990s by a second generation that was able to build on the pioneering success of breweries like McAuslan, Unibroue, Brasseurs du Nord, Brasal, Les Brasseurs GMT, and Seigneurial. Toward the mid-1990s and the turn of the last millennium, things got shaken up. Some brewers consolidated (e.g., GMT merged with Brasseurs de l’Anse and Brasserie du Cheval Blanc to become Les Brasseurs RJ), some went under (e.g., Brasal - their equipment was sold off to help Steam Whistle set up in Toronto, I think) and others were bought up by bigger outfits (e.g., Seigneurial and Unibroue were both acquired by Sleeman) or entered into joint ventures (e.g., McAuslan hooked up with Moosehead in 2003 or so, a liaison that has since been dissolved). In the new millennium, many more smaller outfits have populated the Quebec landscape and made this province a place to come and drool for beer freaks, beer snobs, beer aficionados, and Lupumaniacs (see post on La Houblonniere). As previously mentioned, I will work my way through many of these breweries, as well as the old guard.

The Cascade Spéciale is billed as an American Pale Ale, and the name certainly promised a fine morsel of pleasure for the Lupumaniac in me. I have to admit, though, that this beer somewhat disappointed. Its colour was too dark for my expectation of a pale ale, its flavours were too malty for an American style pale ale, and as you might be able to see in the picture, it was cloudy from a residue of yeast in the bottle. Indeed, there were bits and chunks of yeast floating around, leaving a quarter-sized blob of sludge in my glass after I emptied the old Totenkopf mug. It was not a bad beer - the malt-hops balance was pleasant, and there were slight hoppy flavours at the front of the palate that I enjoyed thoroughly. You can also see the nice head development on the skullcap (credit to one of my fellow beer aficionados for using this term to describe the head on the Totenkopf mug). But overall, the brown toast and caramel flavours gave this beer a character that was too malty for my liking and did not fit the style. I had expected more hops aroma and a more pungent Cascade nose.

Dieu du Ciel! Blanche du Paradis

Today, one of the beers I drank was another delicious nectar from our good friends at Dieu du Ciel! And it was gone within minutes, I assure you, given the midget size of the bottle and the quaffable nature of Belgian blanche/wit beer. It was very Belgian indeed; pale in colour and cloudy from plenty of suspended yeast; a top quality mouthfeel and ample bread flavours.There were emphatic clove and grapefruit tastes, the latter mixing nicely with a subtle hop bitterness. Altogether, this beer met all expectations, notwithstanding the fact that I generally prefer the German wheat beer style to the Belgian one. The addition of spices is not really my cup of tea (or rather, mug of beer!), and Belgians like to throw in flavoring agents to add something to the palate (The bottle does declare spices in the list of ingredients). No good German brewer who recites the Reinheitsgebot every night before going to bed would dare put any such foreign objects into their brew. The Blanche du Paradis also has wonderful label, about which my 6-year old daughter asked: "what kind of princess is that?" I explained to her that it is a beer princess, an answer that was met with a fair dose of skepticism.

Here is another Dieu du Ciel family picture from my photo shoot in front of the pub: