The Daydreaming Blind Rebel

If you’ll indulge me, from time to time I will delve most deeply into my very personal connection with beer. Insodoing I hope to connect with you, the reader, while I share a little about yours truly. Ultimately as well as talking about all things beer I hope to increase awareness of blindness and vision impairment as well.
 

A blind rebel indeed, holding a can of beer at a tram stop in Melbourne. Image shows a vision impaired man wearing sunglasses, holding a can of open beer and holding a white cane beside a tram/bus interchange.

 When I’m not writing, I am a daydreamer. My imagination is so active it could easily be mixed with hot liquor (water) to make wort.

Like so many of you out there I dream of owning and operating my own brewery. But the stark realities of not having a seven-figure bank balance or investors willing to back me with said sum comes crashing in like an unwanted Brettanomyces infection in the brew.

Not to mention the reality that it’s not all glory and no mess.

But you can’t stop me from dreaming about owning, running and brewing at my own brewpub and packaged brewery operation. You can’t stop me imagining that it would be located in Melbourne’s north-east or perhaps even near the as yet to be opened Canning Vale metro station in Perth (close to family and where there is likely a huge gap in the market). And you certainly can’t stop me from dreaming about brewing hype-beast TDH IIPAs, eisbocks brewed with chilli and maple syrup or wheatwines aged in locally produced whiskey barrels.

It would be a middle finger to every perceived notion of what blind and vision impaired people can and cannot do as held by collective society. It would be called Blind Rebel Brewing CoOperative, its slogan: “Walking on the edge of convention”, its primary image stylised footsteps on the wrong side of the yellow line and tactile markings at a train station. 

All in the name of going some way to spreading awareness about blindness and low vision through beer. Because though I can’t change being legally blind and living life in a sighted world, I can change the attitudes of people, misconceptions and accessibility both in the real world and the virtual one.

Alt Text altbier, Tenji Bock helles bock, Seeing Rye Dog red rye IPA, Wit Cane Belgian wheat, APS American peated stout, Beer My Eyes helles lager and of course Braille Ale British strong bitter cask ale would comprise the core range. Puns with a slice of awareness, what’s not to love?

By the way links have been provided at the bottom of this piece so you can learn more about alt text, Tenji blocks, Be My Eyes and the white cane.

Beer is all about community, bringing people together, over history it has helped shape and even save the world. It certainly has the capacity to help blind people integrate with the world and people around them. Thanks to modern and adaptive technologies blind and vision impaired people have never had it easier (the iPhone has enriched my life beyond my wildest imaginings), however there is still a long way to go yet.

Blind Rebel Brewing may be a dream that will never become a reality, but the dream of a better world for the blind and vision impaired is materialising one Tenji block at a time. 

More info about alt text: If you are a website developer, please use it.

Tenji Blocks Google Doodle.
 

APS (Accessible pedestrian signals, which I often refer to as traffic light audible indicators). If you do not have these in your city, write your MP/Congressman/your local road authority!

Be My Eyes.

The white cane: A tool and a talisman for the vision impaired, by Ron McCallum

#whatbeerwednesdays: Episode 3

American amber ale

Continuing BlindTasteTest’s series on beer styles you may have forgotten, let’s take a look at the humble American amber ale.

Autumn, Fall if you will, is descending upon the Southern hemisphere. There are no complaints about the milder temperatures and the sun rising at a civilised hour at this end, and ultimately this is a beer blog - not a weather channel. Plus I’m aiming for an overseas readership as much as a local one.

Anyway, the transitional seasons are perfect times to explore versatile session beers, those beers perfectly suited to 5°C either side of 19°C (or 41°F either side of 66°F). Not hot enough anymore/ yet for sours? The wind chill factor is a ways off/ a growingly distant memory and stouts, porters and strong ales are out of the question?

It is perhaps now the best time to seek the comfort and refreshment of the middle of the road.

But let’s say the good old fashioned American pale ale or even session IPA isn’t doing it for you anymore. You want malty body, you want soul, a bit of a dance of flavour, but still with a certain pronounced citrus driven American/ New World hop character. It’s worth noting the latter rules out many English bitters).

American amber ales might just be what you’re looking for.

They get even better when burgers are thrust onto the stage.

A great Australian example of the amber ale style, a more hoppy one at that, is Exit's Amber ale. Image shows a glass of amber ale with a branded Exit Amber can to just out in front but off to the side a tad for dramatic effect.

American amber ales: What you need to know

Origin: A modern take on the American pale ale which became popular among many US craft breweries.

Etymology: American ambers were for a time also referred to as simply red ales in the Pacific NorthWest during the ‘80s and ‘90s.

Where to find them: Good mainstream bottleshops/ supermarkets (depending on where you live) and independent retailers. It is a fairly common, even mainstream style.

ABV: 4.5-6.2%

Approachability: Very approachable. Because of their even balance between hops and malt American ambers are often seen as “gateway” beers.

Glassware: “ Nonic”pint glass (the sort with the convex protrusion forming a hoop about one-third down) if it’s not too warm. A dimpled mug is also a great option.

Seasonality: Year round, but amazing in milder weather

Serving temperature: 6-8°C (42-46°F). Serve colder if it is on the warmer side of 19°C / 66°F.

American amber ales: A (not so) brief history

Simply put, American amber ales evolved out of American pale ales, themselves inspired by English bitters. (I am a big fan of Sierra Nevada pale ale as it harks back to English strong bitters but with a decidedly Californian sensibility).

Many American beers during the 1970s and ‘80s were born out of British brewing traditions due to the brewing literature available at the time.

American amber ales, or red ales, morphed out of the pale ale style as brewers amped up the malt base with crystal malts (these impart quite caramelly notes) and Continental specialty grains (hearty Munich or Vienna malt) to add colour and depth of flavour.

During the ‘80s many enterprising American breweries slapped together apathetic examples of the emerging amber ale style and gave them woodland critter names so as to cash in on the trend. As ever the market decided and these critters soon retreated back into the undergrowth from whence they came.

 The amber liquid

Sessionable and approachable they may be, American amber ales can be a confusing bunch. The term is almost a catch-all in that there is plenty of overlap. The darkest of pale ales impinge on amber ale territory equalling the palest ambers, while the palest of amber ales can be equal to the darkest of pale ales.

In terms of appearance, we’re talking about a moderate amber to coppery brown hue with a relatively persistent off-white head. Unless dry-hopped to the wazoo, amber ales should also boast an attractive clarity - the sort I hope to leave you with after navigating the murky waters of this intriguing modern style.

As if the style’s colour wasn’t confusing enough, since the ‘80s and ‘90s amber ales have morphed several times over, the style ever evolving. Some examples are known to be as aggressively hopped as American pale ales.

On the other hand, some examples’ malt character masks the hop character almost entirely.

When choosing an amber ale always have a read of the spiel and from there you can generally tell what the beer has in store. Words like “citrus, New World hop character and even simply “hoppy amber” will of course denote a beer whose balance is slightly to the bitter side. “Caramel, toffee, richness, creamy head” suggest you’ll have an amber ale somewhat on the maltier end.

Either way the malt-hop balance sees the pendulum swing not too far in either direction. Any emphatic hoppy zing will have the measuredly caramelly malt to rein it in, while less hoppy versions will most certainly have a characteristic New World hop aroma about them (think citrus, a touch of pine, stone fruit and maybe even some berries).

What they both have in common is their clean American yeast profile, meaning you won’t detect any red apple, pear or other yeast serived aromas and flavours. It’s malt and hops, straight down the line.

Why are American amber ales so awesome?

Few beers could be quite as sessionable as the humble American amber, which is precisely what they are intended to be.

Pale ales can sometimes err on the lean side. Session IPAs, in most cases, are certainly too lean for certain times of the year. American amber ales promise both flavour and refreshment, deliver both, and add in a touch of proper fulfilment for good measure.

American amber ales are better than wine with...

American ambers make for a fantastic table, picnic or barbecue beer, adept at linking arms with all sorts of foods, but where they shine is when they are enjoyed with a hearty cheeseburger or mushroom burger.

Think a toasted bun, the start and the end of any burger experience really. You want something that has enough of a very slightly toasty, malty-rich character to meet it at the centre of the dancefloor.

Then the tango commences. The meat (or indeed mushroom) needs both enough malt for the lead and follow routine before the beer’s hoppy character cuts through and sweeps the burger off its feet.

Caramelised onions heel-toe with the beer’s own caramelly malt notes. We’re looking at a unanimous 10 out of 10 score from the judges here. If bacon is involved, any impression of sweetness from the beer will contrast the saltiness of the meat while the hearty maltiness plays off the fat.

Got pickles? I should bloody well hope so. Hoppier examples of American ambers will further enhance pickles’ cutting and balancing power. Given the beer’s hoppiness and moderate to high carbonation, there is enough there to cut through the beastly richness and refresh the palate (even when salty chips are involved).

 And with that the dance on your palate is over and everyone is applauding.

Six-Pack o’ Beer Facts: Episode 2

Happy Friday Blind Tasters! Here we are again, let us delve into the world of beer facts, but not so deeply you’re drowning in alpha acids and college degree level history.

These are beer facts compact enough to take home with you right now. And what better way to start this fortnight’s episode with the six-pack itself?

1.The convenient six-pack

Before we look into the origins of the six-pack we must first go back to 1935, when the (now defunct) Kruger Brewing Company of New Jersey released the very first canned beer. The packaging vessel of course has gone in and out of favour in the near century since, but one thing that remains constant is the ubiquity of the six-pack, the beer delivery system those first cans helped create.

The greatest appeal of the six-pack was, and it is said to be quite by design, was among American housewives who found carrying and storing cans by the six easy and convenient. The beer can itself also finding favour among GIs returning from service who consumed beer from the can while on the frontlines during the Second World War.

2.Russian Court order

Think Trump’s current trade war is baffling? Me too, I don’t understand the first thing about it. But historically trade tariffs and embargoes have gone back centuries. On March 31 1822 Russia wholesale banned the importation of almost every British article, from cheese to cutlery, and from ale to cotton, with one notable exemption: Porter.

That’s right, the Russians made the strange distinction between ale and porter (porters right down to their core are of course ales!) meaning the peoples could enjoy porter but not their also much beloved Burton strong ale. All this was of course at the behest of the Russian Empress Catherine the Great who was said to be highly partial of the beer that came to be known as Russian Imperial Stout in the early 20th century.

You can learn more about this storied beer style from a fascinating article for which I have provided a link below.

3.Belgian beer glasses

Most of Australia’s major cities have a Belgian Beer Café. Each has an admirably strong selection of Belgian beers. Admirably these are dependable sources for the likes of Westmalle, St. Bernardus, Liefmans and Petrus, among others. What is a very neat touch is most of these beers come with matching glassware for that perfect Instagram shot.

But what might be a feast for the eyes is more often than not seriously compromising the beer’s complex aromatic presentation, the very thing for which Belgian beer is known (Liefmans’ glassware being a notable exception - see images below). Most branded Belgian beer glasses, even Orval’s!, are shaped like a chalice, with an enormously exposed surface area that does nothing in giving your nose that concentrated dose of concentrated aromatics. They are purely for marketing purposes. 

Liefmans' branded glassware is among the better examples doing the rounds. Image shows a glass of Liefmans' Goudenband oud bruin-style ale poured into its matching glass with the original bottle to its left

4.Millboro Lite?

Marketing and beer go hand in hand, from the sales reps on the road to asinine Super Bowl advertisements. The story of Miller Lite is particularly fascinating. The “Lite” brand was originally owned by Gabblingers, and the name harks back to Marlboro Lite cigarettes. Both were marketed heavily towards women, however Miller, whose parent company was then Phillip-Morris (!), purchased the “Lite” brand in 1975.

Then, marketing swayed heavily back towards the male populace (particularly sports fans) with the tagline:”More flavour, less filling.” Miller Lite, an adjunct lager (which is to say brewed with maize), was indeed made less filling by being filtered to an inch of its life, with every last skerrick of fermentable sugar accounted for by a fungal agent.

5.Umami’s first cousin: Kokumi

The five taste sensations of salty, sour, bitter, sweet and umami (savoury) should be familiar to everyone who appreciates food and beer, and almost certainly familiar to everyone else. But did you know there are several more as yet less understood detectable flavours science is still working to understand? One particularly mysterious flavour element is known as Kokumi, and it is thought to be a hidden flavour element within beer that is absent from wine and even sake.

Kokumi is noted to be indicative of protein-rich material, and yes, beer is relatively rich in protein. But rather than being its own flavour element, kokumi is also said to enhance salty, sweet, sour, bitter and umami flavours, while also enriching mouthfeel. It’s for this reason it is being widely studied as a food additive. Moreover, its flavour enhancing properties are why beer should be considered more as a partner for your next meal.

6.Beer as an antibiotic?

Beer’s nutritional value goes far beyond kokumi-giving protein. After all, much like bread it has kept millions of people nourished for centuries. It was once upon a time, Ancient Egyptian times to be exact, even a source of antibiotics.

To be exact, it was the peoples of ancient Nubia whose bones were found to have traces of tetracycline, which most likely came from beer (then a valuable dietary staple). It is also worth noting that studies undertaken by bioarchaelogists and medicinal chemists from Paratek Pharmaceuticals found that the ancient Nubians were then producing antibiotics, over 2,000 years prior to the advent of penicillin in 1928.

More on the history of Russian imperial stouts can be found here

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#whatbeerwednesdays: Episode 2

What You Should Be Drinking Wednesdays: Episode 2

Kriek (Belgian lambic ale brewed with cherries)

Let us begin this episode by pondering why Belgian lambics, particularly fruited lambics, are solely the preserve of beer geeks. Even those within Belgium scarcely knew of their existence. It took beer writer Michael Jackson to introduce Belgian beer to Belgians, hence why he was the only non-brewer to be inducted into the Belgian Brewers Guild.


Today, every time I pick up a bottle of Boon Kriek or Oud Beersel Kriek I ponderously run two fingers around the Champagne-like bottle’s punt (the concave indent at the base) and wonder, in spite of Jackson’s best efforts, why this beer style is still so under appreciated.

To put it bluntly, every wine cellar should have at least one bottle of kriek therein, especially as pet nats and natural wines take over the world. Every self respecting restaurant with a cutting edge wine program ought to have kriek on its menu. And every Homer Simpson beer guzzler who knows only beer to be akin to a singular cigarette brand he or she rigidly sticks to their whole life should at the very least sample a glass of kriek to witness what beer can be. 

Heck, it may even impress a love prospect.

Younger kriek is likely to have more fresh fruit character from cherries that have yet to be fully developed through the process of fermentation.
Image shows a pair of Boon Kriek bottles with bright red labels with corks still unopened.

Kriek: What You Need to Know
 
Origin: The village of Lambeek, located just outside of Brussels, Belgium.
Etymology: “Kriek” is the Flemish word for cherry.
Where to find them: Specialty bars and bottleshops.
ABV: 5.0-7.0%. Some modern interpretations may be higher.
Approachability: Unsweetened kriek may be quite bracing at first, like having red wine for the first time. Complexities and nuances become more apparent before too long.
Glassware: Stemmed goblet with inward taper. The Spiegelau Barrel-aged style glass is my go to for the job. Otherwise for a real touch of class and elegance, serve in a Champagne flute.
Seasonality: Year round.
Serving temperature: Around 7°C.

Kriek: A (not so) brief history

One only has to look at the history and geography of Europe to deduce there is a “grape and grain” divide. On either side of the divide climate and other forces helped determine the suitability for production of grains for beer or grapes for wine.

This dividing line cuts right through Belgium, which might not only explain why fruited beer has been made there for centuries, but also why the Belgians treat their beer like wine more than anywhere else on Earth. Perhaps most crucially, in the days before hops, beers were flavoured with gruits (a catch all term describing any combination of herbs, botanicals, spices and fruits), the Belgians added fruit to their beers almost exclusively. They have maintained this tradition more than anyone else over the ages.


Indeed the fruit used in Belgian beer was that which grew wild and was left over from each growing season. The resident yeast in the fruit (and it may surprise you to learn all brewer’s yeast originally derives from fruit) provided further fermentation as the fruit was added to barrels of beer. The resultant beverage transcends the worlds of wine and beer perhaps more than aficionados from either side would like to admit.

It bears mentioning that krieks and other fruited lambics differ from gueuzes in that although both are a blend of older and newer beer, fermentation begins anew with the addition of fruit in krieks, while gueuze’s fermentation continues with the blending of one year old lambic that is itself still fermenting out.

During the 1980s krieks and other spontaneously fermented lambic beers were often sweetened and fermented in stainless steel vats instead of wood to increase their appeal at a time when pale lagers dominated.

Kriek... What processed cherries should taste like

It is no small wonder why lambic brewers have any scalp left on their head with the amount of noggin scratching they do. The decision over which beer is destined for the local cafes of Brussels as a single lambic, which will be blended with two- and three-year old lambic to make gueuze, or that which will have locally sourced dried, sour Schaarbeek cherries added is as complex as the resultant beers themselves.

When a kriek is being produced, the cherries (which in the boldest form of krieks are added by the pound for every few litres of beer) ferment right down to the pits. That’s right, yeast is literally flesh eating, and the pits themselves add a touch of nuttiness and bitterness to the beer as well.

In younger versions, there is more fresh fruit flavour as one can well imagine. Older versions, known as oud kriek, tend to be brighter (more acidic) and a touch more astringent as the fruit develops into more complex, intriguing characteristics.

As krieks continue undergoing fermentation in the bottle, why not grab two of the same vintage? Drink one now. Take notes. Cellar the other for later. Compare.

Why kriek is so awesome

The fermentation process itself is only the beginning of the endless fascination that kriek lambic beers offer. The fruit does its thing, the wood and its bugs impart their flavour and the brewer selects the blend. What we’re left with is a true object of desire, one that will surely delight and surprise with every sip.

Forget Champagne, Kriek is sure to to win over your next date.

 
Kriek is better than wine with...


A date.

No, really. I encourage you to have your partner over for dinner, and having purchased a couple of bottles of Kriek Mariage Parfait, pour it into a pair of Champagne flutes before or after dinner. The pop of the cork only helps to complete the picture. Then you may thank me later as you melt into each other’s eyes.


Kriek Mariage Parfait is a more delicate, nuanced and subtle example of the style. It is perfect for those not used to sour beer but with an already sophisticated palate. And would you look at its blushy claret colour against the candlelight...? It looks almost wine-like, yes?

Probably because kriek is not that far removed from wine.

Kriek is also great with chocolate, cheesecake and soft ripened cheeses. Also highly date appropriate!