Brewaucracy

Christmas eh? I love it. I love it for the same reasons PC loves it. People are nice to each other because they want to be. Commercialism is embraced instead of vilified. And possibly best of all, ’tis the season to be jolly! Yep, that means beer for me, although I also tend to raid the whisky cabinet. Anyway, in any form, ’tis the juice of the barley for me!

Christmas for me is also a time for reflection and giving thanks. As an atheist, I don’t thank any fictional beardy-weirdy in the sky, but I certainly believe in thanking all those who make my life better every day, simply by being true to themselves, and by dint of what they produce.

On that note, there are three pillars of NZ brewing I think deserve a bit of thanks this Christmas season. I’m about to shamelessly flatter some of my heroes. If you’re embarassed by reading that sort of thing, I hear Kate has a cool article with a beer cave in it for you to read instead.

First up, Richard Emerson. Where would brewing in New Zealand be without this man? Deaf as a post, sharp as a tack, and thirsty as a horse, Richard is the godfather of New Zealand brewing. I was going to use the word “arguably”, but the hell with it. This is my blog, and on this matter, I’ll brook no argument. Richard was here in Hamilton this week for a “meet the brewer” night at the Ruakura Campus Club, and I managed a few beers with him beforehand (and indeed, afterwards), and he reminded me just why he is so beloved amongst the beer community in New Zealand.  It’s not just about his raw talent for brewing, and the way he “feels” the right combination of malts and hops for his brews, he’s also just a hell of a nice guy. Richard always has the time to share what he’s been doing on his pilot plant, and is always equally interested in what others are brewing, why, and what they taste like. Emerson’s beers have lit the path down which many a kiwi craft brewer has followed, and for that I am extremely appreciative. Thanks King One, for setting a benchmark.

The next King on the list is Carl Vasta of Tuatara. Now, I’m not going to debate the quality of Tuatara beers here. I’ve had stunners and shockers, but that’s to be expected when a brewery grows as quickly as Tuatara have. Carl is every bit the nice guy that Richard is, and though I don’t get to have a pint with him anywhere near often enough, his quiet and understated sense of achievement always inspires me. Having said that, most brewers in New Zealand are pretty nice people, so what gets Carl on this list? Pretty simple really. I doubt many people would argue that Wellington is the hub of craft beer appreciation in New Zealand. It’s hard to find a bar, café, or restaurant where at least one variety of decent beer can’t be found. The punters are knowledgeable, and the bars provide for the demand in ever increasing numbers. All of this sprung from the groundbreaking work of Tuatara shareholders and associates, past and present, and all of that was made possible by the beer brewed by Carl Vasta. Hail to King Two for planting a seed which grew to a mighty oak!

And now we come to the Imperial Imp himself, Luke Nicholas of Epic. Many find Luke’s style fairly in-your-face, and not everyone appreciates that in a country well known for Tall Poppy Syndrome. Well, as I said, this is where I unashamedly praise my heroes, and brash, get-shit-done, take-no-prisoners Luke certainly deserves the position of King Three. As an individual, I think Luke has single handedly opened more eyes to craft beer in New Zealand than any other brewer I can think of. While many brewers are content to let the product speak for itself, and would rather be in the brewery making magic than out the front making sales, Luke genuinely loves watching people get that “wow” look when they drink his beer and realise that beer for them has changed forever. Long live King Three for promoting beer with flavour where others fear to drink.

I’m thankful to the Royal Personages above, and for all they have wrought, I hope you will all join me in thanking them also.

Happy Christmas, and Cheers!

DB are the champion brewer of NZ for 2010. It’s official.

You’re all waiting for my long and angry rant now, aren’t you? Go on, admit it. It’s OK, if you’d been around when I heard the news (as several good friends were – apologies to Jamie, Phil, Kieran, Graeme and others) you’d have got one. However, I’ve chilled out, relaxed, and hell, a part of me is even pleased about that result.

Why? Well, first, let’s address the result itself.

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Last night, I had the pleasure of being “the beer team” in a beer versus wine food matching debate/experience at House in Hamilton. I had the greater pleasure of winning that debate, despite an excellent (and extremely gracious) battle with “the wine team” – Dan Thursby from Hamilton Wine Company.

This was no mean feat, for several reasons. I’ll leave singing my own praises right out of this. I’m not the best public speaker in the world, so I can’t claim I swayed the audience with my shining wit. In fact, if anything, Dan was in fine form, and should perhaps have won on pure debating points alone. He does this sort of thing a lot though, whereas I’m usually limited to rowdy and unwelcome interjections from the sidelines, so I guess he had an edge there. He also claimed the room was stacked with beer friendly people. I felt the opposite was true! Several people I knew as avowed beer drinkers (and close friends) were voting honestly, occasionally putting wine as their preferred match – to my horror! Still, everyone is allowed to be wrong sometimes… I feel that 90% of people present (myself included) voted honestly and without bias. I genuinely believe that beer is a much better match with food than wine, and this proved that point for me because… well… I should have lost.

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Hamilton lore (such as it is) claims that the old Loaded Hog building on Hood Street used to be a “house of ill repute”, where the ladies of the night plied their trade. Wags often point out that in Hamilton, they must have starved for want of clients given the often maligned sexual proclivities of farmers, and the fact that animals do not generally charge (except Bulls. Oh stop. I kill me). I shall leave such scurrilous accusations to others though, as now Hamilton can hold its head up and say that it has joined the Craft Beer Revolution with the opening in that very same building of House.

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“I don’t get this campaign. Are we really that interested in beer classification?” — Phil Parkin on CAMRA’s Mild Month (via Twitter).

Before people think I have my own little Phil-worship cult going on here, I’d like to point out that while yes, the last post was entirely dedicated to his film, this one was merely triggered by something he said on twitter which tweaked my cerebellum. He doesn’t pay me, I swear! Plus, I doubt both the readers of this blog will be much of a market for him.

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I came across Phil Parkin on twitter due to a mention from well known author and beer blogger Pete Brown. I followed him, and learned he was making a film on a subject which immediately tickled my fancy. I’ve always been amused and a little intrigued by trainspotters. Trainspotting is a remarkably British hobby/obsession. It involves cataloging locomotive numbers – effectively “collecting” rolling stock. The method is fairly simple. You spot a train, and write down its unique number – you “tick it off the list”. This sort of thing strikes a chord with me, as I’m a tiny bit OCD (aren’t we all about something?) and am something of a completist. If I like a band, I need to have everything they’ve ever released. If I enjoy a TV show, I have to see every episode. Since I like beer, I feel a need to drink every one I can find. I am, it seems, a variety of a new breed of trainspotters who “spot” beers. Beertickers. Phil’s film is called Beertickers: beyond the ale and is all about “us”.

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Beervana! It’s been and gone. What can I say? It was impressive. Alex, Barry, Allan, and myself all piled into a car and road-tripped down to Wellington and the annual party now known as Beervana for a long weekend of beer related fun. Well, and a SOBA AGM, but mostly fun.

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I know it’s a bit of a silly title for a post, what with Armageddon being an absolute and all. I wanted to get a reference in there to Maximus also though. You’ll see why soon…

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A very good year!

For my birthday this year, my long suffering yet beer-friendly wife brought me a beer that was brewed and bottled the same year I was! Or something. Anyway, for those who aren’t aware of such beer-nerdy things, Thomas Hardy’s ale is something of an icon in the world of beer. Originally brewed due to the refurbishment of a pub and to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the death of the eponymous author, this is a strong barley-wine style beer of extremely high collectible value.

More akin to a fine brandy than a beer, and reputed to age up to 25 years, this 34 year old example was always going to be interesting.

I opted to share it with some very close beer-loving friends; Phil, Jamie, and Barry (and, of course, my wife Alexandra). We had warmed up on Barry’s home brewed Irish Red ale, and his Oatmeal stout. We decided then to begin with a Thomas Hardy’s ale from 2005, followed by 2004, then 2003, and finally the 1975 from the original brewers, Eldridge Pope.

The 2005 was sharp, and somewhat candied, with a slightly brandy-like bite to it. The 2004 was smooth, mellow, and a slow sipping joy. The 2003 was most people’s favourite, with so much richness – it reminded me of a brandy-soaked christmas cake. But then came time for the main event. The tiny little 180ml nip bottle, the contents of which had been so constrained since 1975. I have to admit, I did not have high hopes.

It poured a beautiful mahogany brown, shot through with ruby red highlights against the stormy light from outside the windows. The aroma was of raisins, fine cigar smoke, and wood – similar to an old chest long misplaced in an attic somewhere. All that was missing was a hint of mothballs, and the mind conjured that up unbidden anyway!

The first sip was disappointing. The autolysis I had expected to dominate was either not present, or had mutated far beyond the usual marmite-style flavour as to be unrecognisable as such. Musty flavours permeated, but the rich, raisiny, port-like quality of the newer batches was there yet, hidden behind the dust of ages. Phil suggested that some swirling had opened his up, and that it may benefit from breathing for a tad. I left mine for an hour or so, until the others had finished and left, and came back to it.

As I sup the last bit now, it really has opened up. Age has not damaged this beer as much as I’d have expected, though I’d doubt it would benefit from any further aging. A sweetness remains, amazingly, gentle, and fruity, against the nutty, woody character which dominates. Notes of cherries are present, as well as dried figs. The finish is ever so slightly sharp and bitter, but with a gentle tannic dustyness.

Wow, what an experience. Thirty four year old beer. I feel privileged to have tasted it, and humbled before the craftsmanship of the brewer who made it.

What a day!

There are some more photos online here.

Saxbys Bar has just had a bit of an upgrade. I bought this on trademe the other day. Wine pump? It’s a beer engine! Still, the seller was great to deal with, I just felt a little bad for him as I’m sure he’d have got triple the price had he listed it as a beer engine, and not had the auction close at 7am!

Anyway, I got the beastie home and hooked it up, anxious to pull some water through it to test the hydraulics. I began pulling, and could hear it priming. Then I could hear water running. But not into the jug I was carefully holding under the spout. In fact, I couldn’t see where it was going at all. Then I noticed. It was squirting out a tube at the rear of the cylinder, into the back of my bar, all over my clean glassware. Damn!

I disconnected it, and took it to bits. I found some interesting things. Firstly, the spout is only hollow to the base, where it connects with the pump cylinder. At that point it’s a solid piece of machined steel! Welded to the spout just above this join is another piece of steel tubing. This IS hollow. At the rear of the cylinder, as explained earlier, is a third metal tube. This is where the fluid exits! Someone has well and truly hacked this beer engine. Why? I guess I’ll never know. Anyway, after cleaning and reassembly, I simply connected a piece of tubing from the rear tube to the spout-welded tube, which then allows fluid to flow correctly out the spout when pumped.

After all that, despite being a “mini-engine” designed for small bars where space is at a premium, it works beautifully. It’s a quarter pint pull, and seems to have no leaks. I just need to bust out the brasso now – all three could use some love.

Here are my three babies in their natural habitat.

I just wish I had the brewing capacity/budget, and army of thirsty friends required to keep all three pumps operating full time. Still, it will be great for the twice-yearly beer festivals!