Post Fest Post

A week has gone by. Turns out I didn't abscond with the beer as fantasized about in previous post, foregoing the inherent entertainment value therein, and went on my appointed rounds as, well, appointed. After spending four days in Portland, thoughts worthy of blog potential were rattling around the slowly decaying cortex. Now all the edges have worn off and I'm trying to at least put something together worthy of the kind of mediocrity that comes about at the end of a long day.

I have some observations. Yes, I do. And so had a number of other bloggers. I read you all. Now it's my turn. Observation Number One is, how have we become so fussy? Are we all that spoiled? I mean, it's one thing to point out the fly in the soup, or the pint of vinegar, but there were some really nice tipples at the Firkin Fest. Twenty years ago, were we to run across such a lineup, we'd be swooning and mooning and crooning the delights. Granted, for a festival devoted to cask ales, it is odd to have half of them be IPA's, but, ladies and gentlemen, wasn't the experience worth the cash and the time. One cask was cloudy with yeast, and another had a hint of sulphur in the nose, but all were drinkable and pleasant. Regarding the sulphur aroma, from an organic mild (YES!) from HUB, I had no problem with this, but I'm probably one of the few in the vicinity that has enjoyed some nice Burton-oriented ales in the UK. And I got dinged for not bringing up a session beer, unlike last year where I got dinged for bringing up a session beer. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

Observation Number Two: I like the East side of the river over the West side. I thought it would be fun to just spend my last evening in town walking around the city from my motel near PSU. A bit too noisy and poncy for me. A better plan would've been to park on the small numbers of Belmont, or Fremont, and just walk through the little neighborhoods all night.

Observation Number Three: I managed to survive a Meet-The-Brewer event at Belmont Station. This is perhaps due to being able to lurk unobtrusively in a corner. I was satisfied to see the cask of This Time For Sure drain in a couple of hours. The Green Dragon has also talked me into a similar event at the end of May, mainly by plying me with ale and assuring me that I wouldn't have to give a speech.

Observation Number Four: I really like cheese. Managed to snag my share from the cheese guy.

Observation Number Five: Knowledge or real ale is dismal in this state. Don't ask me again if I'm using a nitro tap.

That's all. Just finishing a heat transfer of a Welsh Mild and enjoying a pint. See you at the pub.

Cargo

I can't remember if it was Steven Wright or Gallagher who posed the question, "Why does cargo go by boat, and shipment go by plane?" Regardless, I have a car, specifically a 1993 JEEP Grand Cherokee with broken overdrive clocking in at 257,000 miles, with five firkins of fine West Coast cask ale and three beer engines, along with all the other bits and pieces necessary to make it work such as rubber mallets, ice quilts and jackets. This is true and valuable cargo. Two of the casks are mine; the other three belong to the Eugene City Brewery (Rogue), Oakshire, and Block 15. I have spent the last month or so cultivating the myth that I will be taking their scrummy product to the 3rd Annual Firkin Fest at the Green Dragon in Portland, and that I can be trusted to treat them with the utmost care that they are due. Little do they know that I have a campsite out in the woods, a guitar, a stack of good books, a crate of Cheetos and a cooler full of frozen pizzas.

Not a particularly realistic scenario, as even I can't drink that much cask ale in four days.

So my second choice is to actually drive up to Portland and spend four days NOT AT THE PUB, if you can imagine such a thing, working with real and faux real ale, schmoozing, visiting pubs in YOUR neighborhood, and trying to catch up on what needs to be done. The latter hopefully involves tinkering with my blogging and working on a menu revision for our wee community public house. I have great expectations. I may even have an original thought.

As for blogging, you're reading it. I'm sitting at Block 15 right now having a pint of Alpha IPA on cask and a very nice cilantro and pepper oriented Southwest Salad. I'm also thinking about how I'm not really a businessman and about how I need to get out more often. This is all a good thing. I sometimes forget who I am, and am often reminded by friendly patrons that I'm looking a little harried, with bouts of pale and wan.

These next four days should be a lot of fun, if I can let it sink in that I'm not working but yet am working. I have one of the remaining casks of the KLCC collabrewation beer with me to display at the Firkin Fest, for all of you who are too lazy to drive down to Oakridge for a sample. This is that mutant Belgian Cascadian Dark Rye that I've blogged about previously. I had intended to bring a session ale, but this stuff is just so good that I had to bring it. The other casks mentioned above in my fanciful episode of improbability are under my care, and I am hoping that the Green Dragon will allow me to have enough free reign to see them handled with the delicacy that they deserve. Three of them are fined, and I will be setting them up with pumps and handling the tapping and venting tomorrow.

Another little venture this trip is a rare and probably unique Meet The Brewer event at the Belmont Station. I've been avoiding these things - philosophical issues and so forth, but Carl has been trying to talk me into it for over a year. I will be up there Friday night from 6:00 to 8:00, and have a cask of "This Time For Sure", a hoppy pale ale that wrangles with subtleties of not trying to overdo the hop bit at cellar temperature.

See ya at someone else's pub.

Small Customs

I was going to comment on the [drinkability?] [quaffableness?] [sessionability?] of the latest session beer offering on the pumps, "Bob's Yer Uncle", weighing out at 4.0% ABV and tasting like the brewer mixed a Belgian yeast harvested from a previous batch of weirdness with a bitter ale recipe. But this is not a blog about beer, it is a blog about how publicans from different parts of the world, say, Britain and Oregon, set stuff up in the pub.

This is a thin topic; there's not a lot of meat here, but I've discovered that I annoy my staff by putting beer mats, or coasters are they are also called, directly in front of the seats. Why? Because that's not only the way I tended to find them in British and Irish pubs, but the way I was instructed to while I was working there.

Beer Mats at the Old Dungeon Ghyll in Cumbria

They are sorta like seat markers in my mind. Now, the argument here is that the punters have to move them when they sit down. My response is, "So." I'm fine with that. My pub and all. Not like it really matters. But does it? When I'm fronting the house I put them at the seats, not in the middle of the table. And I have to wonder how it started this way. I have made an informal study of the public house since 1991, the first time I ventured to the UK, and I am fascinated by the differences in habits. If I were to sum it up, and that's just what I'm about to do, I've discovered that the British and Irish pub denizens head to the pub to have a few rounds and socialize. The pint gets directed to the top of the beer mat. Here in the U.S. of A., most are looking for a restaurant and want to eat and move on to the next thing. The beer mat is shoved to the center of the table. Silly Americans; can't they just enjoy a nice evening session.

The other annoying thing I like to do is put little tick marks next to the special offerings on the specials board behind the bar. Helps me keep track of how many of the goodies are left. I've been told this negatively influences the patrons' decisions about choice, but we seem to go through the specials anyway. Go figure.

Fusion

Remember the old Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercials? Where the serendipitous collision of chocolate and peanut butter resulted in a scrummy treat? Similar things are happening in the brewery right now, except that neither chocolate nor peanut butter are involved. Come to think of it, the serendipity has been found wanting as well. I guess there's not much similarity after all, but it makes for a smashing opening paragraph.

My point, though, is that we nano (femto? atto?) breweries can do what we want, eschewing tradition and style and habit. Sacks of remnant grains, baggies of stray hops, and jars of harvested yeast can be combined in a waste-not-want-not manner. As we've been without a session beer on the pumps for a while, and I'm not proud of this, I really needed to make something quaffable in the low ABV range. Except for the fact that I had a six month old cask of Rye Mild that had been languishing in the cellar for six months and is now being served, a nice best bitter was in order. The recipe for a previous one-off batch of "Good With Bacon" was to be the starting point. First of all, out with the Sorachi Ace and in with a pound of U.K. Challenger that I'd picked up at the local homebrew shop. I like the spiciness of this hop, and hope to use it more in the future for some of my bitters. Then the total grain bill was reduced a bit to try to target the 3.5% to 4% range.

And then the totally cunning plan was devised. Why not pitch in the half-gallon mason jar of Ardennes/Nottingham yeast blend that I'd harvested from the KLCC Collabrewation Brew batch? No reason I could think of. This is a second generation harvest, G0 coming from Oakshire and G1 off our "Because We Can". I was aware that this yeast likes a warmer fermentation temperature, so I did a heat transfer to target 24˚C. Fermentation started off within 24 hours, and it sprinted along at 23 to 24˚C for three days.

The problem now is that I have a bitter ale recipe with a blended Belgian/English yeast. What to call it? As I generally eschew style nerdiness and meticulous adherence to the BJCP, I am going to call it a Belgian Bitter. It will be named "Bob's Yer Uncle", not only because it came to me the other day out of the blue, but because the alliteration of "Bob's Yer Uncle Belgian Bitter" rolls off the tongue nicely and creates the anticipation of many days working behind the bar talking about it. Casking up day is tomorrow, and I hope to have it on the pumps a little over a week later. See you at the pub.

Odds and Suds

Late Wednesday morning. Just finished cleaning the cask beer lines. The weekend lineup is looking good. Same with the cold fizzy stuff. On cask is a rye mild, a rye special bitter, a hoppy pale liquidy sustenance beverage, the Ridgeback Red from Block 15, cask 6 (of 8) of the Belgian Cascadian Dark Rye gustatory delight, and the tail end of the last cask of the big Winter stout. As I write this, I just noticed the preponderance of rye brews. Go figure. I also pinched a cask of Aboriginale from Block 15 which will replace the Red as part of our ongoing cask swap program.

I managed to snag a keg of "Duck Billed Platypus" from Oakshire yesterday while I was in Eugene doing the purchasing. Had a very nice chat with Jeff Althouse, who is always a real treat to spend time with in his brewery office where some of the more mundane activities in the business are realized. As I continually wrestle with the onerous task of keeping this quirky little brewery and pub afloat, it is nice to hear stories from a friendly brewery, with a completely different business model than our own, that has to deal with similar issues such as IRS levies, negative cash flow, staffing, consumer opinion, and a funky economy, amongst other trifles. For those of you who don't know, D.B.P. is Oakshire's translation of the 2010 KLCC Collabrewation Beer. Starting today we will have their kegged version and our casked version on simultaneously.

The rest of the guests are top notch, as can be attested by the expression on Happy Moose and Sloth Bear housed on the coffin box. There's snow in them thar hills, and all you locals who appreciate good music and those of you passing through, whether from the slopes or otherwise, will be duly entertained by the genius of Peter Wilde, who will be playing here this Saturday night along with Danny Shafer. This is indeed a rare treat. See you at the pub.

So Ya Wanna Run a Pub, Revisited

I've been uncharacteristically absent out here in the blog-o-thingy. Not due to lack of material, I can assure you. I have a head full of commentary and no time to scratch it down - a Locomotive Breath sequence of days that all end in 'ay', but without the distinctions that used to separate them into such lofty categories as "Weekends", "Weekdays" or "Time Off". But fear not, oh weary soldier. Divine Wisdom's providence has furnished me with a day of escape, as the amount of time that has elapsed between now, The Present, and when I had a single 24 hour period alone, all alone, by myself has exceeded six months. So I'm coming to Portland for a night of Fridays, and look out, I'm gonna sit in a bunch of your establishments and lurk. Just lurk. And study - oh, yes, study. Scrutinize, dare I say, to see what all the hype is about. And take notes that might end up in blog entries that originate in exciting yet overlooked rural Oregon communities. I better find myself a decent pint of session beer; where can I get some mild this time of year? And I want some haggis - the best your house can provide. With whisky and rashers for breakfast, no less, like I enjoyed one morning on the Isle of Arran. And none of this cold and fizzy swill that numbs the buds and assaults the gums and teeth. And some atmosphere. And maybe a wee dram of erudite conversation.

Actually, I'll more likely just sit in a corner of the Highland Stillhouse and work on my script or read a book. It will still be fun and well earned. And when I get back, I get to brew something interesting on Sunday using the yeast I harvested from the KLCC Collabrewation Beer. I'm not sure what that will be yet.

What Could Go Wrong?

It's Wednesday morning, and the piece of paper taped to the wall above my desk says "Note to Publican - Clean Lines". So that's what I'm doing. A good day for it, though, as we are putting on some new beers and trying to squeeze in cask 7 of Tanninbomb, which is reaching five months of age. The scheduling at the pumps can be non-trivial at times. I had hoped to have three new and interesting casks on for today, Wednesday, but had a busy weekend and had to shuffle in another cask of Union Dew that got drained rapidly and unexpectedly.

"Because We Can", the 2010 KLCC Microbrew Festival Collabrewation Beer, had some issues. I wrote about it in the early stages, but there had been some worry lines on the brewer's forehead and a slight quickening of blood pressure for a few days in the process. In short, it got "stuck" in the fermenter. The yeast was from a quart jar of the Belgian WY3522 Ardennes that was harvested from Oakshire, and hindsight now strongly suggests that I underpitched. It took a week to go from 1.068 to 1.053, and then it just sat there, despondent and uncaring. My solution was to mix up a quick starter of Nottingham and give it a pitch. Two days later it was happily humming along. At 1.015 I shut it down and then casked it up a few days later. A very difficult yeast to handle, and hard to interpret as for when to stop the fermentation. The skin remained a solid brown crust, unlike the dry English strains that break up into foamy islands. Someday, as I begin to use more strains of yeast, I should post here a study of krausen. How geeky is that?

Last night I completed the venting and tapping. It remained a bit on the lively side for a day, and I had to keep checking it every couple of hours. The first draw from the tap was declared delicious. So was the second. And so forth... And so on... I do believe that the Nottingham dried it out a bit, as I had heard that the Ardennes can (if one is not careful) produce overly malty beers. The estery Belgian quality is still there, though, in the nose as well as the palette. I had hoped that more of the Sterling and Ahtanum hops would come out from the dry hopping, but we'll see what happens as it continues to mature.

The lines are just about clean now. All six pumps will be pouring, in anticipation of a festival weekend and hopefully a steady influx of skiers and other outdoor types, eager to tuck into a unique lineup of cask and keg beers. We'll be pouring:

• Something Light - Session Bitter - ABV 4.1%


• Baba O'Rye'ly - D'Rye Hopped Rye Special Bitter - ABV 5.2%


• Union Dew - I.P.A. - ABV 6.1%


• Because We Can - Belgian Cascadian Dark - ABV 6.8%


• Reporter (Block 15) - Brown Porter - ABV 5.5%


• Frost on the Bumpkin - 7-Grain Winter Stout - ABV 6.6%

Tanninbomb is ready to go on when the Reporter goes off (it's close), but can be gravity dispensed if you are desperate.

Tomorrow I load up the aging, decrepit JEEP for the festival, where the weirdo Belgian Cascadian tipple can be compared with 10 other local breweries. See you at the pub. And the festival.