blood’s a rover

Last summer I began painting two 48×36 canvases to hang in my kitchen, both giant versions of the labels of two my favorite beers: Rogue Brewery’s Dead Guy Ale and Brewery Huyghe’s Delirium Tremens. They’ve taken much longer than I expected, but since I recently finished the Delirium Tremens painting and mentioned the beer in the post below about my day in Brussels, it seemed like a good time to unveil it.

Delirium Tremens, 2009, acrylic on canvas, my kitchen

To create this painting, I first primed the canvas in several coats of the blue. The elephant took some effort to place correctly, but eventually I got it right. If you look at the actual logo, my elephant turned out a lot less cartoony and a lot more biologically proportional, but I was ok with that. All of the lettering and placement of it was done freehand, which may or may not be obvious. I probably could have spent a lot more time making everything perfect, but at some point it makes more sense to ignore your mistakes than correct them- that’s my slacker philosophy, anyway.

The Zupan’s near my house recently began stocking a dozen specialty salts-
including pink Himalayan, French herbed sel gris, English oak cask smoked,
Spanish paprika, Hawaiian red alaea clay and black lava…

…and Cypress flake, which forms in large pyramids.

Shiitake mushrooms, apple smoked bacon, tomato, cheese,
coarse ground stout mustard, ciabatta roll, gin, tonic water, lime.

Homemade bread, made at home, by me…

…to be eaten with garlic brie, 7.5 year aged gouda, and spruce
wrapped, lambic washed winnemere from Vermont.

Solid chocolate ganache cake and Lindemans Framboise (raspberry beer)

Sautéed eggplant, shallots, garlic and paprika
over couscous, cherry tomatoes, and avocado. 

Last Saturday I attended the 2nd Annual “Portland’s Cheers To Belgian Beers” Festival, which was held at Roots Brewing.

Having been to Belgium (and going back in December), I am always forced to compare “Belgian-style” American beers with my vivid memories of the real thing. And it’s almost never a favorable comparison. For most American brewers, “Belgian-style” simply means using Brettanomyces as their fermenting yeast, which imbues the beers with a number of unique flavors, including bananna, bubble gum, and clove.

The problem is, most Belgian beer doesn’t taste like that.

Belgian beer is almost always much subtler in flavor, complex, and higher in alcohol than most “Belgian-style” beers I’ve encountered. The Portland “Cheers to Belgian Beers” had some standouts among the 15 beers being poured, but they really needed to be judged and enjoyed on their own merits, and not as attempts to reproduce something that, in my opinion, simply cannot be duplicated (or, for that matter, improved).

Results:

Most Favorite: Lucky Lab Malt Bomb
(mostly for being unique and delicious, it also ended up winning the judging this year)

Honorable Mentions:
Alameda Lucky Devil
Hopworks El Diablo
McMenamin’s Gulden Tijger (the only McMenamins beer that has ever impressed me)
Roots Farmhouse Brown (very respectable)

Meh:
All the rest.

from the fishin boats at Dingle to the shores at Dunehea
I miss the River Shannon and the folks at Skibbereen
the moorlands and meadows and their Forty Shades of Green

But most of all I miss a girl in Tipperary town
and most of all I miss her lips as soft as eiderdown
I long again to see and do the things we´ve done and seen
where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and there´s Forty Shades of Green

I wish that I could spend an hour at Dublin´s churning suft
I long to watch the farmers drain the bogs and spade the turf
to see again the thatching of the straw the women clean
I´d walk from Cork to Larne to see those Forty Shades of Green

But most of all I miss a girl in Tipperary town
and most of all I miss her lips as soft as eiderdown
I long again to see and do the things we´ve done and seen
where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and there´s Forty Shades of Green
-Johnny Cash, Forty Shades of Green

So far, Ireland has been exactly what we expected- lush, cold, windy, with landscapes that look like a great (green-paned) stained glass window, and cozy pubs serving dark beer and hearty food by friendly people. We’ve been spending our time here walking around rocky coastlines and tiny fishing towns, choosing, as ususal, to see more in less places than less in more places.

We’re having trouble getting our heads around the fact that we’ll be stepping back on U.S. soil only week from now, but we’re also very much looking forward to seeing family and friends again.

Also, I take back what I said earlier about Guinness, but with a qualifier. In Ireland, and only in Ireland, is it a beer worth drinking regularly, and only then when it’s on tap. The way it settles from cream to black with a nice tan head at the top is like a magic trick. Though for my money, Wolaver’s Organic Oatmeal Stout is just about the best dark beer ever, and we’ll have a chance to try that on tap at the brewery in Vermont in, oh, about two weeks from now. So returning to the states does have some benefits.

slàn leat! (”farewell” in Gaelic)

delicious and mysterious

Step 1: Inspect the bittenball

Yeah, that’s a little spicy…

Wait for it…

BAM!

11 hours, 2 pretzels, 1 bockwurst and 6 beers in Dusseldorf, Germany

Brianne and I are traveling around the world, but we are doing so without purchasing round-the-world tickets. Instead we simply keep an eye on ticket prices in the months leading up to our next move and buy each leg as we go. While we were still in Australia we found a great deal on a flight between Bangkok, Thailand and Dusseldorf, Germany, so we bought them. But since our actual first destination in Europe was Barcelona, Spain, we also had to buy tickets on an inexpensive hopper flight between Germany and Spain.

The flight itinerary we ended up with grounded us in Dusseldorf from 7 p.m. one night to 6 a.m. the following morning, so we devised a mission: We would store our bags at the airport, catch a train into the city, and then engage in a celebratory pubcrawl to mark our arrival in Europe, returning to the airport sometime that night to catch a few hours of sleep before jetting off to Spain.

If we were going do it right, though, we knew we’d have to brief ourselves about our target. Luckily we discovered Ron Pattinson’s Dusseldorf Pub Guide, which provided us with an exhaustive overview of the best and the rest that the city had to offer. Our trust in Ron’s opinion was bolstered by the presence of diggy little comments like “if you want to know a cool place to drink Corona straight from the bottle, I suggest that you look elsewhere” and also the fact that only a true beer nut would create a personal website that was so passionate and comprehensive.

It was just a coincidence that we were going to be stranded in Dusseldorf, but we were thrilled to learn that the city is one of the best places in Europe to go for good beer, and most famous for a type of copper colored, hoppy beer known as Alt.

The home of Alt in Dusseldorf is an aptly named area of town known as the “Altstadt”, which we were told by several locals is “the longest bar in Europe” because of the incredible number of pubs wedged into such a compact space, nestled between the central train station and the snaking path of the Rhine river.

Using Ron’s guide, I created our short list of pubs to visit. Actually, the Pub Guide’s paragraph under the subheading “Which Is The Best Alt?’ was our short list:

“A question I always ask myself on visits to the city is “which is the best alt?”. It speaks volumes about my innate indecisiveness that I am, to this day, unable to provide you with a definitive answer. One day, I’m convinced that Füchschen is top dog. Next visit, the Uerige beer is such a delight that I have to revise my opinion. On a particular day, Schlüssel will hit the spot so precisely that I can’t imagine any other beer ever matching it. Other times, nothing can surpass a glass of Schumacher. Go there, try the beers and see if you can help me resolve this riddle.”

Those muck muck names with their umlauts and the prospect of hearty German food and strong, authentic beer had me tingling with excitement during our entire LTU flight.

Continue Reading…

11 hours, 2 pretzels, 1 bockwurst and 6 beers in Dusseldorf, Germany

Brianne and I are traveling around the world, but we are doing so without purchasing round-the-world tickets. Instead we simply keep an eye on ticket prices in the months leading up to our next move and buy each leg as we go. While we were still in Australia we found a great deal on a flight between Bangkok, Thailand and Dusseldorf, Germany, so we bought them. But since our actual first destination in Europe was Barcelona, Spain, we also had to buy tickets on an inexpensive hopper flight between Germany and Spain.

The flight itinerary we ended up with grounded us in Dusseldorf from 7 p.m. one night to 6 a.m. the following morning, so we devised a mission: We would store our bags at the airport, catch a train into the city, and then engage in a celebratory pubcrawl to mark our arrival in Europe, returning to the airport sometime that night to catch a few hours of sleep before jetting off to Spain.

If we were going do it right, though, we knew we’d have to brief ourselves about our target. Luckily we discovered Ron Pattinson’s Dusseldorf Pub Guide, which provided us with an exhaustive overview of the best and the rest that the city had to offer. Our trust in Ron’s opinion was bolstered by the presence of diggy little comments like “if you want to know a cool place to drink Corona straight from the bottle, I suggest that you look elsewhere” and also the fact that only a true beer nut would create a personal website that was so passionate and comprehensive.

It was just a coincidence that we were going to be stranded in Dusseldorf, but we were thrilled to learn that the city is one of the best places in Europe to go for good beer, and most famous for a type of copper colored, hoppy beer known as Alt.

The home of Alt in Dusseldorf is an aptly named area of town known as the “Altstadt”, which we were told by several locals is “the longest bar in Europe” because of the incredible number of pubs wedged into such a compact space, nestled between the central train station and the snaking path of the Rhine river.

Using Ron’s guide, I created our short list of pubs to visit. Actually, the Pub Guide’s paragraph under the subheading “Which Is The Best Alt?’ was our short list:

“A question I always ask myself on visits to the city is “which is the best alt?”. It speaks volumes about my innate indecisiveness that I am, to this day, unable to provide you with a definitive answer. One day, I’m convinced that Füchschen is top dog. Next visit, the Uerige beer is such a delight that I have to revise my opinion. On a particular day, Schlüssel will hit the spot so precisely that I can’t imagine any other beer ever matching it. Other times, nothing can surpass a glass of Schumacher. Go there, try the beers and see if you can help me resolve this riddle.”

Those muck muck names with their umlauts and the prospect of hearty German food and strong, authentic beer had me tingling with excitement during our entire LTU flight.

While in the air I ran my list past a middle-aged, well-manicured man sitting nearby who had lived for many years in Dusseldorf. Not only did he recognize (and confirm the quality of) every pub I had listed, but he conferred with his kind looking wife about it too. The fact that German women are just as interested in beer culture as German men added to my eagerness to get there.

At one point the woman asked where we were staying that night, so I explained our plan. Like any good mom, her face expressed her displeasure with the idea of us going out drinking and then sleeping in an airport. I later thanked them both and turned back to envying Brianne for being able to sleep during the flight. By the time we reached our destination and went out on the town I was going to have been awake for nearly 18 hours.

Our first glimpse of Europe

***

After an uneventful landing there was an interminable wait for our baggage at the Dusseldorf Airport. Brianne went to find a bathroom and the couple I had been chatting with the plane approached. The woman, Doris, handed me a piece of paper with a number written on it.
“In case you need something,” she said, indicating the number. “I have three children your age. You can stay with us if there is a problem.”

Stunned by their kindness, I thanked them both profusely for the hospitable gesture while assuring Doris that we would be just fine.

As though speaking for good moms everywhere, she looked at me skeptically and replied, “I have my phone.”

Despite the fact I’m nearly 26 years old, it still feels good to know someone’s looking out for you. When Brianne returned we grabbed and stored our bags, withdrew a couple hundred Euros (we would also need them in Spain) from the ATM and then headed into the heart of the Dusseldorf.

The windy, arid, freezing cold heart of Dusseldorf.

Leaving Thailand on a sweltering afternoon and arriving in Germany the same evening really highlighted the difference in climate between the two places. Of course, everything else- the people, language, architecture, food- was different too. Surprisingly, going to Germany from Thailand seemed much more disorienting than coming to Thailand from Australia. But the excitement we felt at being in a brand new place was exactly the same.

It was only four train stops from the airport to Dusseldorf’s pretzel-smelling central station and then just a short walk from there to the Altstadt. The area was full of stunningly clean pedestrian-filled cobblestone streets, colorful old buildings, impressive statues, and pubs. Lots and lots of pubs.

Earlier on the plane I had been a little concerned about locating and getting to all of the places on our list, but it quickly became clear how unfounded my fears had been. For instance, our first stop, Schumacher, and our second stop, Schlüssel, were within sight of each other on opposite sides of the main beer drag, the Bolkerstraße. was just around the corner, and Füchschen was not far away, either. You know those lucid dreams that you don’t want to wake up from? Arriving at the Altstatdt was like finding ourselves in one of them. This was especially true for me because of how sleep deprived I was by the time we got there.

***

Schumacher

Most traditional German pubs employ only men as waiters, and Schumacher was no exception. Dressed in white and blue checkered shirts and carrying large trays of beer in search of people with empty glasses, we had only been seated a moment when one of the waiters sat two full glasses in front of us and made two marks on my beer coaster with a black grease pencil.

Schumacher´s Alt was beautifully bright copper colored, light bodied, and suprisingly metallic tasting. It wasn’t so much hoppy as pleasantly bitter, which marks an exception to my experience of hoppy beers tasting more floral than bitter.

In any case, our introduction to German Alt beer was a happy one. It was strong, clean, and most important to us, unlike any other beer we’d ever had. It didn’t remind us of home the way several New Zealand beers had- it was entirely its own.

German pubs still evoke the original meaning of the word “pub” which is short for “public house”. Locals from all ages and walks of life seem to be there. We found ourselves sitting across from a friendly German couple, Wolfgang and Karen, who spoke nearly as little English as we spoke German.

While I asked Wolfgang’s advice on our route that evening, three boys who could not have been more than 16 joined our table and began chatting with Karen, who was at least twice their age. That kind of cross generational ease is something you don’t see in the States, but in Germany, and especially in Dusseldorf, it is common.

Before we left Schumacher, Wolfgang gave us an unsolicited warning about German Alt beer. My original pub list started out at seven, and eventually was whittled down to the four that we visited. But after showing my original list to Wolfgang, he said, “If you drink seven glasses of Alt in one night…” He was at a loss for words, so he turned and conferred quietly with Karen. Then he turned back to us.

“You will go mad,” he said.

***

Zum Schlüssel

A stone’s throw from Schumacher sits Zum Schlüssel. It is a cozy place, also filled with locals and fast moving and impatient waiters. Most pubs in the Altstadt feature only one, and at the most, two pubs on tap, and this was the case at Zum Schlüssel. We ordered a Schlüssel Alt and a “Halb und Halb”, which is half Alt and half malt-only (session) beer while flipping through an utterly incomprehensible menu (we settled on the daily special).

The Schlüssel’s alt was less metallic than Schumacher´s and slightly smoother. It was delicious, and we were 2/2 as far as pub selection was concerned.

The Halb was interesting, too. The addition of the malt beer added sweetness and darkness to the otherwise crisp Alt. We didn’t find out until just before we left Schlüssel how it was made, and our guesses for what the Alt was mixed with ranged from fruit Lambic to flat Cola.

At Zum Schlüssel we shared a thick bean and bacon soup and a bockwust, which is German for hotdog. I would have liked to have tried an authentic saurkraut smothered bratwurst, but it was getting late and other breweries awaited our arrival.

***

Zum Uerige

At the end of Bolkerstraße, we stopped at a newsstand to ask how to get to Zum Uerige. The man working there understood my question, but he couldn’t figure out what place I was trying to find.
“Zoom Uh-ree-guh” I repeated.
The man shook his head apologetically, so I took out my notebook and pointed.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Zoom Uh-ree-guh.” (Wasn’t that what I said, I wondered?)
The man pointed. “It’s just over there.”
I realized then that while in Europe, I was going to have to get used to having the words I was saying repeated back to me with a patronizing look.

Zum Uerige was probably of the coziest of the pubs that we visited that night. It’s ceiling was dark brown, and everwhere you looked was wood, polished smooth by many years of bodies brushing past it. On the counter sat two large wooden kegs, which is what all traditional Alt beer is stored and served from.

Zum Uerige has a reputation for proudly rude waiters, but ours was actually really nice, and even spoke English with us. The issue we had was while ordering some Meinz cheese, which our waiter was reluctant to bring us because he didn’t think we would like it. Suddenly it felt like we were back in Thailand trying to convince people that we wanted to eat food as spicy as they did. Finally we were brought a plate of clear yellow, smelly cheese and a slice of rye bread to spread it on. The locally produced Meinz was the consistency of cold honey, and spread slowly over the seed encrusted bread. The Meinz tasted slightly soapy, oily, and farmy, but these are all positive attributes in the world of weird cheeses.

Like ascending a copper staircase, the beer we tried kept getting better and better. Uerige´s Alt was fuller than the others, but no less strong. We loved it.

Zum Uerige is one of the only brewers in northern Germany that produces a Hefeweizen (wheat beer), so we tried one of those too. Instead of the squat .25L glasses that Alt is served it, the Hef came in a tall glass with that flared out at the top. It was golden and clear and tasted like sunshine and honey. Portland’s Widmer Bros. Brewing makes a great, citrusy hefeweizen, but this was something completely diferent. Actually, Widmer also makes a German Alt that is only available on tap at their brewhouse, and if I recall correctly, it’s a pretty good approximation of the beverage we had been enjoying all evening.

At some point I excused myself to find a bathroom and discovered that the small bar area where we had been sitting was just the tip of the beerhouse’s iceberg. Large gathering rooms went back forever, with smaller rooms connected to them on each side. All of them were filled with Germans, mostly older than us, talking and laughing and smoking like chimneys. The overall mood was like walking into a wedding reception after the bride and groom had left but the bar was still open.

After sharing a fresh, sweet pretzel and chatting a little more with our waiter, we left Zum Uerige in search of our final short list pub, Füchschen.

***

Füchschen

Earlier in the evening at Schumacher, Wolfgang had gestured in the general direction of each pub that he read on my list. The gesture he made when he got to Fuchshen set the course for us while trying to locate the pub. We also tried to ask a pair of German strangers, but they seemed as lost as we were. Finally I approached a young man who was walking in the same direction and us and said, “Excuse me, do you speak English?”

The guy turned around and told us that he spoke a little, which is usually an understatement if they understood the question respond to it casually. Many Europeans speak three or four languages, because it’s becomes a neccesity to thrive in the EU.

Next I asked the man if he knew where Ratingerstraße was, or Brauerei im Füchschen.
“Yes,” he said. “I will show you how to get there.
As we walked, we introduced ourselves and explained what we were up to that night. We also told him a little about trip. Our guide, Thomas, was immediately interested and envious.

Thomas was from France, but he had a German last name and had lived and worked in Dusseldorf for three years for a steel company. He knew a lot about European wine, particularly in France. We were all ears. By the time we reached Füchschen, we were all talking like old friends, so Thomas joined us for a beer.

While talking about our interests and backgrounds, we learned that Thomas loved beer, wine, skiing, motorcycles, and windsurfing. Every activity he mentioned made him sound more and more like an Oregonian at heart.  But then, maybe Oregonians are just European at heart.

Füchschen’s alt was a perfect finish to the night. It was bold, complicated, balanced and delicious. It was the best Alt we’d had all night, but establishing a new friendship with Thomas made our visit to Fuchshen even more satisfying. We left the pub with Thomas’s email and cell number, after promising to call him when we reached northern France or returned to Germany. Thomas was as eager to show of his home as we’ve always been to show off ours, and it sounded like both places had a lot in common.

***

Dusseldorf’s night air was as brutally frigid as ever, but our bellies were warm with bread and beer, and we when retuned to the too bright airport we couldn’t have been more tired or happy. We slept restlessly on wood backed benches in a darkened café for a little over three hours, and then groggily gathered our things and checked into our flight to Barcelona.

The sun wasn’t up yet when we climbed into the sky, and it seemed to take its time once it did appear on the horizon. For a long time the clouds and the sky was the same color of blue, but then the sun broke over the horizon and began painting the earth orange with mountain range-sized brush strokes.

Somewhere down there, I thought, while our new friend Thomas dreamed of BMWs, someone was milking cows and someone was making cheese. Someone was growing grain and someone was baking bread with it and someone was brewing beer with it. Someone was pruning olive trees and someone was pressing them for oil. Someone was tending grapes and someone was coopering barrels and someone was using both ingredients to make the wine that we had come to taste.

I knew all that was happening because now we were in Europe, where people had perfected living imperfect lives by elevating necessities like food and drink to a status nearly as precious and unique the land from which they came.

Our layover in Germany was like an appetizer for the feast of experiences to follow, and we both felt insatiable for them by the time we arrived in Spain.

The sunburned country of Australia is still 30,000 feet below us, but soon we’ll be over the Indian Ocean, then the Java Sea and the Gulf of Thailand, finally setting foot in the land of smiles and semi-annual military coups.

***

We loved Australia. Though less varied in landscape than New Zealand, the greater chance of being bitten by something poisonous (or at least exotic) made our time there more exciting, and the parched brown and red hillsides everywhere looked like something out of a John Ford western, quite beautiful in their own way.

Continue Reading…

(By special request of Uncle Seth)

Introduction

Michael “The Beer Hunter” Jackson once suggested that Portland, Oregon deserved the title of Beer Capital Of The World because it is home to more breweries in one city than any other, even Cologne, Germany. I feel fortunate to have started drinking beer only after moving to Portland- it was a great introduction to local pub and craft brewing culture, and just one of many things that makes Portland such a special place.

Although we aren’t cataloging all the beers we try with the same dedication as we are with wine, we still believe that comparing and contrasting the same thing (food, animal life and architecture are some other options) as it has developed in different locations is a wonderful way to get the most out of traveling. With that in mind, we will try to present an overview of the variety and quality of the beer that is available in each country that we visit.

History

In addition to Captain James Cook landing and claiming New Zealand for Great Britain in 1769, he was also apparently responsible for New Zealand’s first beer- he ordered it to be made in the belief that it’s nutritional value would help combat the scurvy that was rampant during long voyages at sea.

Continue Reading…

(By special request of Uncle Seth)

Introduction

Michael “The Beer Hunter” Jackson once suggested that Portland, Oregon deserved the title of Beer Capital Of The World because it is home to more breweries in one city than any other, even Cologne, Germany. I feel fortunate to have started drinking beer only after moving to Portland- it was a great introduction to local pub and craft brewing culture, and just one of many things that makes Portland such a special place.

Although we aren’t cataloging all the beers we try with the same dedication as we are with wine, we still believe that comparing and contrasting the same thing (food, animal life and architecture are some other options) as it has developed in different locations is a wonderful way to get the most out of traveling. With that in mind, we will try to present an overview of the variety and quality of the beer that is available in each country that we visit.

History

In addition to Captain James Cook landing and claiming New Zealand for Great Britain in 1769, he was also apparently responsible for New Zealand’s first beer- he ordered it to be made in the belief that it’s nutritional value would help combat the scurvy that was rampant during long voyages at sea.

By the mid 1800’s English settlers were brewing English style beer in their new home, and soon after that commercial breweries such as Nelson Brewery were started.

Industry Overview

Despite the apparent variety of beers available in New Zealand grocery stores, most of the breweries are actually owned by only two companies: DB Breweries and the Lion Nathan Ltd.

The State Of The Nation

DB Breweries produces Export Gold, DB Draught, Tui, licenses the right to brew Heineken and Amstel Light locally, and owns the Monteith’s Brewing Co., which is more of a craft brewer than the others, while Lion Nathan Ltd. makes Speight’s, Lion Red, Steinlager, Canterbury Draught, Waikato Draught, and their own craft brewery, Mac’s.

This duopoly makes it very difficult to experience the full range of craft brewing in New Zealand, because most pubs and restaurants only carry one company’s beers at the exclusion of smaller breweries. With the exception of the craft brewery labels, all of popular domestic beers are made using the continuous fermentation method, which may explain why most of them taste the same. To try anything more interesting it’s necessary to visit a decent liquor store or stop by the breweries in person. You could also just brew it yourself, as evidenced by the selection of homebrew kits available at any local supermarket:

40 litres of beer for $12 seems like a good value.

Experiences

Our introduction to New Zealand’s beer culture began almost immediately after we arrived in Auckland. It was there that we first tried Speight’s and also noticed that at every bar that we passed, the locals were all drinking Heinekein. The best explanation that we got for this was that the big domestic beers were all 4% but the Heinekein’s were 5%, even though the Heinekein served in New Zealand is also brewed there under contract.

Within a couple of weeks we had tried most of the big domestics- Speight’s, Waikato Draught, Lion Red, etc., and although they were darker in color and fuller bodied than big American beers, they were uniformly sweet and underwhelming. There wasn’t anything offensive about them, but Oregon brewing has spoiled us. We began craving either strong, creamy stouts or strong, hoppy pale ales, but we had to wait until the day we left Hawke’s Bay to discover the first really good beer we’d had since arriving in NZ.

Did you notice the feet in the barrel?

Chris O’Leary, the amiable fellow who founded Limburg Brewery, was introduced to us by the Howells, who were the first family we stayed with in New Zealand.

Soon after meeting Chris we discovered another NZ-OR connection: one of Chris’ best friends is on the board of directors of Full Sail Brewing, and had just left New Zealand for home before we showed up. It was cool being on the other side of the world and discussing all different Oregon beers with another big appreciator. I assume that eventually we’ll be able to have similar conversations with people about wine, but our inexperience is still somewhat limiting. Beer, on the other hand…

Limburgh brews a delicious pale ale called Hopsmacker, a dark and rich porter, an interesting belgian wheat beer (Witbier), a red ale, a “Czechmate” lager, and a strong ale. Chris even let us try a (literally) stunning barleywine that he doesn’t even sell.

…and then we got on a bus and went to sleep.

We left Limburgh with several bottles of great beer, o

ur spirits high in the knowledge that at least some people in New Zealand take brewing as seriously as they do back home.

For the next few weeks we relied mostly on the Craft Brewery labels of the larger breweries like Mac’s and Monteith’s. Mac’s is superior to Monteiths both in varieties brewed and overall quality, but they both fell short once we reached Dunedin on the south island and managed to find Emerson’s Brewery hiding out in an nondescript industrial yard near the water.

We didn’t call ahead, but when we showed up and introduced ourselves we were given a personal tour by an employee named Stephen. Stephen explained the history of Emerson’s to us and gave us tastings directly from the stainless steel tanks of whatever was being brewed that day.

Later we were joined by the brewery’s founder, Richard Emerson, who first began brewing beer in his garage, then a larger garage, and now runs the largest truly independently owned and operated brewery in New Zealand. Michael Jackson, mentioned above, has an excellent article about Richard at his website.

Richard’s mother also happened to be visiting that day, and after tasting many wonderful brews he opened up a bottle of his Dunkelweiss, a fascinating brew that tastes a bit like chocolate and banana with a dash of clove. After chatting with Richard about brewing philosophy for a while longer, we said goodbye to him and Stephen and headed back out into the Dunedin sunshine.

On our way back to our hotel we decided to give Speight’s the benefit of the doubt and stopped into their original brewery, where we were told that we had to pay $20 each and take a tour of the brewery in order to do a tasting there. They wouldn’t even let us pay for just a tasting! Obviously we declined, and left bewildered at the idea of a brewery making it difficult for people to become better aquainted with their products.

Our final experience with New Zealand Craft Brewing took place on our last day in the country at a Christchurch restaurant and brewery called Dux de Lux. “The Dux” brews a full range of decent beers, but the suprising standouts were their Nor’wester strong ale (essentially a solid American Pale Ale) and their Ginger Tom, an alcoholic ginger beer with a unique and really refreshing flavor, perfect for the warm Spring (late November) afternoon that we were enjoying as we tasted.

Conclusions

Because of the limited selection of beers available in grocery stores and bottle shops in New Zealand and the fact that we only visited a few craft brewers in person, it wasn’t until researching this article that I came across many, many more independent breweries in New Zealand. Having now left NZ, I wish I had done a little more research, but then again, a little more “research” probably would have led to us seeking the opinions of the namesake animals of the beers being tasted, and you have to draw the line somewhere.