Superannuation

Tomorrow this community public house and brewery will have survived three years. I'm not sure I have, but the building is still intact, the walls, doors and windows function as designed, and none of the kitchen and brewery equipment is broken at the moment. Coincidentally, tomorrow is also the 3rd Annual Oakridge Keg and Cask Festival. The street in front of the pub will be closed, and there will be food, beverages and entertainment from 2:00 to 8:00. After the festival we will bring the music inside and continue the merriment. I brewed a special beer for our birthday: "3rd Superannuation Ale" is an English Strong Ale, weighing in at 6.1%. Also, the first cask of some small beer, "Little Sir John", will spring up its head. It's an Ordinary Bitter at 3.4% featuring five hops and five grains. I haven't had either of these yet; they were just tapped and vented this morning. But what could go wrong? See you at the pub.

NO WAY!!

Pardon the caps and exclamation points, if you will, but this lowly pub and brewery that doesn't even care about winning awards has won an award. In a foreign country, no less. For an ordinary three grain and two hop Best Bitter. Well, that just goes to show ... something. I'll have to mull it over.

Eugene History Moment

It may seem like a small thing. Indeed it is, depending on your perspective, but as a proponent of real ale it is significant. For Oregon Craft Beer Month I was invited to bring four casks of real ale to 16 Tons in Eugene. So far it's going well. There are now FOUR beer engines in place, in a makeshift setup, and four casks in a state of repose in a couple of coolers from which the kegs have been banished. Two of the pumps are mine, part of my portable pub setup, but thanks to Nate at Eugene Rogue and a fellow what goes by the name of Mr. P. we have a complete lineup. For Thursday and Friday expect to find (while they last, of course):

• Cumbrian Moor, English Porter, ABV 5.0%


• Above Average, I.P.A., ABV 5.2%, 10% rye malt


• Wotcha A La Chinook, Best Bitter, ABV 4.4%, a cask of which is also on it's way to the GBBF


• Baba O'Rye'ly, E.S.B. ABV 5.3%, 10% rye malt

Later tonight I'll head over and do the tapping and venting. We will also see what temperature the lowest setting on the cooler is designed to achieve. I'm hoping for around 50 of those archaic but well-known Fahrenheit degrees (that's 10 of the trendy but aloof Celsius degrees). After a fine breakfast of a single strip of bacon, a double experso (as we call it) and a ginger cookie I'll be back down in Eugene to hook up the lines and ascertain the state of the swill, as you will.

Following on the heels of this fine event is the Oregon Brewers Fringe Fest at Belmont Station in Portland. I much prefer being part of festivals in which brewers and/or owners are present, and am delighted to once again have been invited.

Half Pint Grammar

We serve proper pints and half pints here at the pub, the latter being referred to as a "half". What is the plural of this, as when someone orders two halfs? Or is that halves? Or half's?

Back

The impetus to write just hasn't been there lately. I don't consider myself a writer, and I'm still puzzled by the notion that I even bother to blog about our little community public house. But, tonights's the night. Woohoo.

It's been really grim up here the last two months. Rain and cold. Rain and cold. Sometimes heavy rain and cold. Sometimes really cold with a light drizzle. I think we've had five days of sun since the beginning of April. I vividly recall the incident of this occurring on a Sunday. Our little collection of local service sector businesses are eager to see Summer come and the return of positive cash flow. Some ponder closing, selling or moving. So do we. But, for now, we wait it out and send flowers to our creditors. And I, for one, get to make beer.

The days of "Frost on the Bumpkin", our Winter Stout, are over. I've steered the kettle (and associated bits of stainless pipes and whatnots) towards a warmer weather porter called "Cumbrian Moor". At 5% it's a little above the sessionable range, so I recommend having three instead of four. The second cask of an IPA called "B.R.O.W. Brew" is also pouring. This contains Barley, Rye, golden naked Oats and torrefied Wheat, hence the name, and is very pale. Since my brewery is so small, I was able to hop (get it?) down to one of the local homebrew stores in Eugene and secure three pounds of Falconer's Flight to chuck into the boil, a proprietary blend of aromatic and flavorful hops that showcase the West Coast way of thinking. This ale flagrantly violates the West Coast law that IPA's have to be strong, since it weighs in at 5.3% and doesn't make a fuss.

As a participant in the underground cask-swapping fraternity, I have secured a couple rare casks from our friends at Block 15 in Corvallis. "River Mudd" was on. Yep, I said "was". A bunch of people drank it already. Right now I am enjoying the other'n, the "Ctrl-ALT-Del", which shines in cask form. I take a certain amount of enjoyment out of knowing that our pub is the only one IN THE WORLD that has this outside of Block 15. I suggest that, since camping is rather miserable this holiday weekend, you should come down to the pub and play Hearts or Scrabble all day long over a selection of six wonderful handpulls.

When the cask swap offerings run out, I'm bringing out the first cask of our 100th batch of ale. It's modeled on an English stock ale, aged with oak chips soaked in Laphroaig. I will be tapping a cask once per month at the end of each month until it's gone. It might turn out to be swill, but it'll sure beat a can of Keystone Lite in a pinch.

A Quick and Random Post Over Lunch

Back from Portland, and into the stream of consciousness that comes from sitting in an empty pub doing cleaning, maintenance and paperwork. A Subway sub and half pint of mild for lunch, a quick foray into the current blogroll (thanks again, Jeff - we need to open a proper real ale pub in Stumptucky), and some thoughts about spending some time in the city with the most breweries than any city in the world.

While I enjoyed being involved in setting up for the Firkin Fest at the Green Dragon, I can't escape the sense that there is nobody there that is really enthusiastic about it. I'm open to the idea that my perceptions are misguided, but I felt that the organization of the event, the publicity, and the follow through in producing acceptable printed information for the punters was lacking. On the plus side, it is soooo nice that the setup occurs the night before. This gives me a chance to vent the firkins and determine which are going to be well-behaved or not. After working through the lineup a couple of times, I decided that three of the casks were not going to be suitable for tapping until the morning. A couple of soft spiles overnight, and then I'll see what the new day brings. Out of those, two supplied me with the cellarman's badge of honor upon bringing the mallet to bear on the end of the tap. Good thing I brought a change of clothes.

This is not a "look at him, he's so cool" statement, but I think I was the only brewery dispensing his/her own wares. Well, for the first session, anyway. The second session was mine; after all, a man's gotta engage in research appropriate for his vocation. I believe I worked through 9 samples without trying a single IPA. Everything I had was, as I think might be the case in Lake Wobegon, above average. The only cloudy beer was the IPA from Columbia River, but I ran out of tickets before trying it. I also had to pace myself, as there were dark corners in pubs to spend the evening in with my book.

I did manage to take in a couple of the new breweries, Breakside and Burnside. I'm not here to do beer reviews, but I had a pint in each and scrutinized the atmosphere. The typical high-ceilinged Portland style venue continues to prevail. No dark corners here, with a pint of cask to nurse and local color to peruse under the watchful eye of a friendly and knowledgeable barkeep. Business was brisk, though, and I can't help but think of myself as being three sigma out when it comes to my thoughts about pubs in America.

As for pubs, those I think of as pubs, I frequented my favorites over a period of four days. Three visits to the Horse Brass and two to the Moon and Sixpence should be indicative of my chosen. I was very impressed that a single barkeep and a single waitperson at the Moon and Six kept the flow moving at 10:30 on a Saturday night. I made mine a Red Seal on cask, and it was perfect.

Now I'm back to work, work, work. I discovered while cleaning the brewery this morning that the sump that services the brewery and the prep kitchen is stuck off, meaning that fat from the grease trap is messing with the float. Another job, I guess. But it's not so bad. It's a beautiful Spring day, and summer is coming with the teaming hordes sitting outside on the patio drinking proper pints of small bear and chomping on great pub specials off the specials blackboard. I also am thinking through what to brew for my 100th batch, which will take place on Thursday. That jar of oak chips that have been soaking in Laphroaig for over a year might find a home in this endeavor. See you at the pub.

Jaws of Borrowdale

With the sound of the March page being ripped out of the calendar, I thought it would be nice to bring on a Mild. After all, May is Mild Month in England, and I wanted to get a head start. Sitting before me is a sample (pint-sized) of "Jaws of Borrowdale", a Dark Mild named after a feature of the Central Lake District of England. I had the pleasure of a wander back in September of 2006 from Penrith to Boot which took me up to the top of Catsbells and then down through the Jaws along the Derwent and into one of my favorite Lakeland valleys - Borrowdale. So, here's a refreshing tribute to memories of Stonethwaite, Rosthwaite, Seathwaite and that rainy climb up past Styhead Tarn into Wasdale. Cheers! (And don't even THINK of sipping it.)

I was a bit reluctant to wire up all six pumps today, what with April being one of those dismal rainy months that calls for a paucity of chatter in the pub and a lonely till behind the bar. There is a risk of having on too many active casks that could linger and drift towards vinegar whilst the thirsty punter languishes at home in front of the TV eating Cheetos and watching the rain dribble down the windowpanes. However, my thoughts wandered to the beauty of a smart looking lineup on the blackboards and I caved. So, if you're tempted to just stay at home, think of what you're missing. There is also a pretty good chance that a cask will be pouring at Belmont Station next Friday the 15th. See you at the pub (or Belmont Station).