Just bottled my latest concoction, using dark brown sugar (96% sucrose vs 98% sucrose for standard brown sugar) and abbey ale yeast.
For the brewers, i returned a record 1001 final gravity, which is unheard of, representing essentially a result of fermented sugar, unfermented sugar and water versus a specific gravity of pure water of 1000 at 25C. That means that the beer should be very dry, having fermented virtually all of the sugars, including some or all of the molasses. The yield for this sugar is considered to be 100%, which explains the suprisingly low specific gravity.
From taste, the beer has the distinct brown sugar taste (essentially molasses), yet is crisp, but green as expected. A few weeks in the bottles should return a mature flavour of which i have hope that it will be a resounding success.
But in more important news......
Tomorrow I brew THE FIRST OF MY EXPERIMENTAL BREWS!!!!!
Oh yes, I intend to concoct the ORIGINAL AUSSIE BREW using true blue, dinky-di, you beaut, fair dinkum, aussie ingredients, but it will require much experimentation, involving many guinea pigs (yes, that means you, Claude!!)
All welcome to suggest a name for this fabulous brew-to-be!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
BEER REVIEW: Franziskaner Weissbier
"Beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy" - Benjamin Franklin
Well, not only is Franziskaner ample evidence of a deity with such powers, we have indeed been blessed with the capacity to enjoy beer we cannot even pronounce, let alone know what the hell it means. Of course, we eventually got around to inventing the internet, so can easily find the meaning if only we give a rat's arse.
For the simple reason that I don't have to waste valuable drinking time going to a library to find out (and can find out without so much as putting down my beer), Weissbier literally means "unfiltered wheat beer". That said, it is surprisingly clear, yet compared to the Kristalbier (filtered, blah, blah, blah) it is smoother and tastier, as though filtering took all the flavour out. Maybe that explains the tasteless insult to beer drinkers that is Carlton Cold.
The beer is somewhat lightly carbonated, with a relatively fine white head. Pale, with a slightly cloudy appearance, it comes across as the authentic german ale it is. As the oldest beer from Munich since 1397 (not all of Germany, mind you, just one city), it holds a special place in beer history having been brewed by monks, supporting the case for beer being god's work. Well, if Franziskaner is god's work, then Carlton Cold is Satan's brew. Oops, did I say that out loud?
The beer has a distinctly fruity smell, but not at all in a bad way. It seems sweet and even biscuity on the nose, entirely inviting. A taste of the inviting brew reveals a fine "banana" flavour to the beer, but very well balanced between sweetness and bitterness. Savouring the beer as it swirls about my mouth, I imagine the monks of old trying, trying, and trying again until finding the right balance and toasting to their saviour their success again and again. And again and again until only the language of beer makes any sense from the now dribbling mouths of monks. God's work indeed. But could they have been as dribbling a mess as yours truly waving cheerio to some unfortunate Canadians after introducing them to the wonders of "Depthchargers" in sub-zero Vancouver all those years ago? Impossible, but i'm sure they gave it their all. For god, of course.
The beer is aptly divine, with a smooth lingering taste that rewards long after being received by me welcoming liver, assuming it is still alive. It serves as a benchmark for wheat beers, being a style of beer stubbornly resistant to most Australian efforts, although I do remember Redback being a nice drop in days of yore, prior to ruination by an obviously evil human being. Surely there's a section of the UN's crimes against humanity that covers this?
Anyway, after savouring this fine beer, I am not in the mood to mete out the appropriate punishment for such as heinous crime. Cheers to all monks who have dedicated their life tobeer god. Cheers!
Well, not only is Franziskaner ample evidence of a deity with such powers, we have indeed been blessed with the capacity to enjoy beer we cannot even pronounce, let alone know what the hell it means. Of course, we eventually got around to inventing the internet, so can easily find the meaning if only we give a rat's arse.
For the simple reason that I don't have to waste valuable drinking time going to a library to find out (and can find out without so much as putting down my beer), Weissbier literally means "unfiltered wheat beer". That said, it is surprisingly clear, yet compared to the Kristalbier (filtered, blah, blah, blah) it is smoother and tastier, as though filtering took all the flavour out. Maybe that explains the tasteless insult to beer drinkers that is Carlton Cold.
The beer is somewhat lightly carbonated, with a relatively fine white head. Pale, with a slightly cloudy appearance, it comes across as the authentic german ale it is. As the oldest beer from Munich since 1397 (not all of Germany, mind you, just one city), it holds a special place in beer history having been brewed by monks, supporting the case for beer being god's work. Well, if Franziskaner is god's work, then Carlton Cold is Satan's brew. Oops, did I say that out loud?
The beer has a distinctly fruity smell, but not at all in a bad way. It seems sweet and even biscuity on the nose, entirely inviting. A taste of the inviting brew reveals a fine "banana" flavour to the beer, but very well balanced between sweetness and bitterness. Savouring the beer as it swirls about my mouth, I imagine the monks of old trying, trying, and trying again until finding the right balance and toasting to their saviour their success again and again. And again and again until only the language of beer makes any sense from the now dribbling mouths of monks. God's work indeed. But could they have been as dribbling a mess as yours truly waving cheerio to some unfortunate Canadians after introducing them to the wonders of "Depthchargers" in sub-zero Vancouver all those years ago? Impossible, but i'm sure they gave it their all. For god, of course.
The beer is aptly divine, with a smooth lingering taste that rewards long after being received by me welcoming liver, assuming it is still alive. It serves as a benchmark for wheat beers, being a style of beer stubbornly resistant to most Australian efforts, although I do remember Redback being a nice drop in days of yore, prior to ruination by an obviously evil human being. Surely there's a section of the UN's crimes against humanity that covers this?
Anyway, after savouring this fine beer, I am not in the mood to mete out the appropriate punishment for such as heinous crime. Cheers to all monks who have dedicated their life to
Saturday, December 1, 2012
BEER SAVES MAN FROM AVALANCHE!!
We're all familiar with the term "breaking the seal", but for those who are not, it has nothing to do with getting the slippery buggers to confess. God knows the water-boarding doesn't work. Of course, it is the point in which you first take a pee after a round of drinks, and thereafter are peeing every 15 minutes for the rest of the night like it’s your job. Typically, it’s a real pain in the arse —the exact process one would never, ever expect to end up saving your life.
But, lo and behold, a Slavic gentleman named Richard Kral was driving through the Tatra mountains five years ago when his Audi was swallowed up by an oncoming landslide (serves him right I say for driving on a ski field).
Kral, realizing that digging his way out required more room for snow than his car offered, made use of all the beer he had stocked in his back seat by drinking it like there was no tomorrow (well, for him there wasn't) by pe
eing on the snow piles he packed under his windows to melt them. Blessed with intelligence from training his brain to kill only the weak brain cells by drinking lots of beer (therefore making his brain smarter in the process through survival of the fittest brain cells), he correctly deduced that drinking the beer would have the energy (beer's gift) from the beer metabolised into energy hence warmth, thus melting the snow where the beer alone would not. Why take a course in physics when beer will achieve the same with no more effort than repetitious elbow movement and subsequent manly belching??
Anyway, after a long, arduous, woozy drink and piss session, Kral eventually tunneled his way to freedom. Rescuers managed to find him on the same mountain four days later, kidneys hurting, still as drunk as Oliver Reed at a movie launch after-party.
As the immortal Homer Simpson once said "Is there anything beer can't do?"
We're all familiar with the term "breaking the seal", but for those who are not, it has nothing to do with getting the slippery buggers to confess. God knows the water-boarding doesn't work. Of course, it is the point in which you first take a pee after a round of drinks, and thereafter are peeing every 15 minutes for the rest of the night like it’s your job. Typically, it’s a real pain in the arse —the exact process one would never, ever expect to end up saving your life.
But, lo and behold, a Slavic gentleman named Richard Kral was driving through the Tatra mountains five years ago when his Audi was swallowed up by an oncoming landslide (serves him right I say for driving on a ski field).
But, lo and behold, a Slavic gentleman named Richard Kral was driving through the Tatra mountains five years ago when his Audi was swallowed up by an oncoming landslide (serves him right I say for driving on a ski field).
eing on the snow piles he packed under his windows to melt them. Blessed with intelligence from training his brain to kill only the weak brain cells by drinking lots of beer (therefore making his brain smarter in the process through survival of the fittest brain cells), he correctly deduced that drinking the beer would have the energy (beer's gift) from the beer metabolised into energy hence warmth, thus melting the snow where the beer alone would not. Why take a course in physics when beer will achieve the same with no more effort than repetitious elbow movement and subsequent manly belching??
Anyway, after a long, arduous, woozy drink and piss session, Kral eventually tunneled his way to freedom. Rescuers managed to find him on the same mountain four days later, kidneys hurting, still as drunk as Oliver Reed at a movie launch after-party.
As the immortal Homer Simpson once said "Is there anything beer can't do?"
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
BEER REVIEW - Lord Nelson Brewery Three Sheets Pale Ale
The usual review I do is to say "good", bad" or "ugly", but I thought it's time I did a beer review all proper like, describing the beer according to fruit and spices which do not actually influence the taste of the beer (or even exist in the beer), but I must say that I really don't want to get all wanky in describing a beer in a way in which no one recognises. Simply put, I don't want to be a beer tasting wanker, or any sort of wanker, come to think of it.
Like, for example, Dan Murphys review of James Squire's Four Wives Pilsner (when I hear four wives, all I hear is "four mother-in-laws"), which starts off with "In keeping with James Squires' bohemian approach to life". WTF?! They actually paid someone to write this crap?! I write crap, where's my commission? In any case, I do need to accurately describe what i'm tasting, so i'll have a crack at it based on some basic principles of beer reviewing, while doing my best not to come across as a complete knob.
Anyway, to the Lord Nelson Brewery Three Sheets Pale Ale. Pouring the beer, i notice, unlike many pale ales, this one is actually pale! A good pale golden colour, very much a "blonde", it is clear with a fine head and good head retention (not that there will be anything left to have a head on for much longer).
Bringing the beer to my nose, I notice a sweetish, fragrant smell, which is quite distinct, yet very much Australian. It has a very floral hop profile, while the yeast is vaguely fruity.
Taking a deep sip of the beer (okay, a chug), the taste resembles the smell, with a pleasant lingering aftertaste that has me, wait...mmm, very nice. Where was I? Oh, yeah, the taste. The hops balances out the sweet fragrance of the beer, but not to the extent that you can taste it. Sounds to me like a perfectly balanced beer. It really tastes like going back in time to when the Lord Nelson was a wee pub in the early 19th century, with beer served by real wenches, hopefully minus the smallpox. I would go as far as calling this beer the quintessential Australian beer, even though I fail to visualise a single Aussie beer quite like it. I quite love Coopers, but this is even better.
It's difficult to identify a feature of the beer, because it is not distinctly hoppy, malty, or yeasty (and thank god not watery!), but it has a balance of all three. I find it better to concentrate on a particular feature when making my own beer, so that it can stand on that basis, but more so so it can succeed in one feature, rather than try to succeed in all three, and yet, this beer manages to do exactly that. I in fact am trying to culture its yeast to try and replicate its distinct taste, but i'm a long way from achieving that. Maybe if I have some more beer, it will reproduce the flavour profile out of sympathy for my worthy cause. Wench, bring me more beer!!! Wench? Anybody?
More than being well-balanced, it is full-bodied, yet not too heavy, and smooth. It's good enough to want twenty more of these to fully appreciate the taste (all in the name of research, of course), because I feel that this beer is not only a good accompaniment to a meal, but I this it would be a mighty fine session beer as well. It is sufficiently carbonated, yet not overly so, making it perfect for having with a meal so as not to make you bloated (although the twenty after may do). I think it would go quite well with fish. Yes, I think fish would go very well, although I think beef, chicken, pork , duck, peanuts, stink bugs or pretty much well anything would go quite well with such a fine ale.
So, Lord Nelson, where's my free beer? I said all the right things, and I even believed it! Damn those bottle shops and their limited hours! Can I survive until breakfast?
Anyway, overall, this is simply one of the great Australian beers, and anyone who criticises Australian beer based on Fosters, simply must taste this beer to make a fair judgement. After all, we export it because we sure as hell don't want to drink it!
This beer is, quite simply, excellent. As an unpretentious beer, this is worth every one of the four stars I give it out of five, and i'm being far too harsh. Bugger it, four and a half!
As I polish off the last of this fine ale, I notice , surrounding the man himself, a motto that demands my attention - "Every man must do his duty". How very true. I must drink every last one of them. Next!
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
(Distant) Happy Memories of Amato's Beer Tasting - Part IV
Well, I have to finish what i start (especially beer), so it's time i finished reviewing the multitude of beers I studiously drank some weeks ago at Amato's.
Where was I? Ah, Franziskaner Weissbier!
At long last, I get to this beer with high hopes. 615 years can't be wrong, and it didn't fail to impress. Having once tried in the distant past, I had fond but faint memories of a fine beer. I took one drink, which begat another, and I wondered out loud what that familiar taste was. "Bananas", said thewench lady behind the bar table, and because it tasted good, bananas were good. Some might run a mile hearing bananas mentioned in the same breath as beer, but having tried it, it was like they were meant to be together. Not at all sweet, it was finely balanced, but had those great qualities of a fine head and smooth, pleasant aftertaste. The best beer of the day.
What could possibly be better? Franziskaner Kristalbier, of course! The same beer, but filtered! And yet...
It was not as good. A fine beer, to be sure, but somehow the filtering removed not only the solids, hence cloudiness, but the taste as well. No more bananas. Surprisingly, this was disappointing. This would probably more please the average punter, but beer is not water, and beer need not be clear to be fine, healthy, and pure.
That reminds me of a story my dear departed father once told me of his European tour of 1976. In particular, Germany. Dad went to visit his childhood pen friend, and upon meeting her father, Carl, they proceeded to the pub, as you do. Dad, not speaking much German, and Carl not speaking any English whatsoever, proceeded to communicate through their common language - beer.
Asked what beer to be served, Dad shrugged his shoulders as if to say "any", but more likely "i have no idea what you are talking about". After a couple of carefully enjoyed mouthfuls, Carl turned to Dad and tried to ask what he thought of the German beer he had been served. Not readily understanding what was said, he eventually figured out that he was asking what he thought of the beer. Perhaps realising that he could say anything as Carl did not speak a word of English, he replied..."water".
Carl looked at him blankly, trying to figure out what the reply meant. "Water"? Water. A look of horror then appeared on Carl's face. "Wasser?! WASSER!!!?! Thirty years of post-war reconciliation up in smoke. Dad, perhaps foreseeing pitchforks, laughed and assured it was only a joke. Nothing twenty pints couldn't fix, apparently.
Anyway, back to the beer. Following one of the great beers was always going to be difficult, so I tried another German beer, Stiegl. Clean and crisp, it was somewhat generic, and watery. Uh-oh, there's that word again. Just joking, my pitchfork-wielding Deutsch friends!
My virtual beer tour of the world continued, to the first table which I passed on my first round. This table had beers from Spain and Cuba! First up was the Estrella Galcia from Spain. I didn't know what to expect, only that it might be similar to Mexican beers as its most obvious inspiration. But no, Corona this was not. Not a lemon or lime wedge in sight! That of course is a good thing, as it indicates that the beer is confident in its own taste, not requiring fruit to give it some taste. It had substantially more depth, was slightly cloudy from memory (or was that my brain that was by this stage cloudy?), and was refreshing and well-balanced. A worthy beer.
Next, Cuban beer. What could I expect here? Rum-laced? Bitterness that tasted like Cuban cigars? The Bucanero Fuerte (translated to "strong Bucaneer") sounds like a great name for a beer. What could possibly go wrong?
I partook. Alcohol wafted from my nostrils. The room swirled. Angels sang. The only thing clear by this stage was the haze that enveloped my being. A beer indistinguishable from rum. How apt. My sobriety has indeed been pillaged. No more beer tasting for me. "At least until tomorrow", I slurred.
Where was I? Ah, Franziskaner Weissbier!
At long last, I get to this beer with high hopes. 615 years can't be wrong, and it didn't fail to impress. Having once tried in the distant past, I had fond but faint memories of a fine beer. I took one drink, which begat another, and I wondered out loud what that familiar taste was. "Bananas", said the
What could possibly be better? Franziskaner Kristalbier, of course! The same beer, but filtered! And yet...
It was not as good. A fine beer, to be sure, but somehow the filtering removed not only the solids, hence cloudiness, but the taste as well. No more bananas. Surprisingly, this was disappointing. This would probably more please the average punter, but beer is not water, and beer need not be clear to be fine, healthy, and pure.
That reminds me of a story my dear departed father once told me of his European tour of 1976. In particular, Germany. Dad went to visit his childhood pen friend, and upon meeting her father, Carl, they proceeded to the pub, as you do. Dad, not speaking much German, and Carl not speaking any English whatsoever, proceeded to communicate through their common language - beer.
Asked what beer to be served, Dad shrugged his shoulders as if to say "any", but more likely "i have no idea what you are talking about". After a couple of carefully enjoyed mouthfuls, Carl turned to Dad and tried to ask what he thought of the German beer he had been served. Not readily understanding what was said, he eventually figured out that he was asking what he thought of the beer. Perhaps realising that he could say anything as Carl did not speak a word of English, he replied..."water".
Carl looked at him blankly, trying to figure out what the reply meant. "Water"? Water. A look of horror then appeared on Carl's face. "Wasser?! WASSER!!!?! Thirty years of post-war reconciliation up in smoke. Dad, perhaps foreseeing pitchforks, laughed and assured it was only a joke. Nothing twenty pints couldn't fix, apparently.
Anyway, back to the beer. Following one of the great beers was always going to be difficult, so I tried another German beer, Stiegl. Clean and crisp, it was somewhat generic, and watery. Uh-oh, there's that word again. Just joking, my pitchfork-wielding Deutsch friends!
My virtual beer tour of the world continued, to the first table which I passed on my first round. This table had beers from Spain and Cuba! First up was the Estrella Galcia from Spain. I didn't know what to expect, only that it might be similar to Mexican beers as its most obvious inspiration. But no, Corona this was not. Not a lemon or lime wedge in sight! That of course is a good thing, as it indicates that the beer is confident in its own taste, not requiring fruit to give it some taste. It had substantially more depth, was slightly cloudy from memory (or was that my brain that was by this stage cloudy?), and was refreshing and well-balanced. A worthy beer.
Next, Cuban beer. What could I expect here? Rum-laced? Bitterness that tasted like Cuban cigars? The Bucanero Fuerte (translated to "strong Bucaneer") sounds like a great name for a beer. What could possibly go wrong?
I partook. Alcohol wafted from my nostrils. The room swirled. Angels sang. The only thing clear by this stage was the haze that enveloped my being. A beer indistinguishable from rum. How apt. My sobriety has indeed been pillaged. No more beer tasting for me. "At least until tomorrow", I slurred.
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