It's not crap

The wife and kids are down in sunny Florida while our windows are being replaced. That leaves me to show up for work on time and sort out other odds and ends back in New York. What it also means is that I get to spend a bit of time with experimental beer drinking. To that end, I've picked up a six of Belhaven Scottish Ale. My dalliance with the Sam Adams Wee Heavy has made me wonder whether or not there's anything to Scottish brewing. They seem a bit of an also-ran when one thinks of the great brewing cultures. Easily overshadowed by the English and their own fine whiskys (or whiskeys. I forget what's what) Scottish beer is something with which I have to confess, I have absolutely no familiarity.

Unfortunately, I think the Belhaven will do little to change things for me. It pours a nice color; looks quite like Speckled Hen. Not much on the nose. Taste is strong on the malt, none of the sissy English hops. Not loads of body. I get done with about half my glass and an unsettling question hits me. "How is this different from malt liquor?" I've had more experience with the fine product from Colt 45 than any right-thinking person ought to and I know an easy-drinking, let's-get-assholed beer when I taste one. There's just a slight bit of skunk and that's when it strikes me that this comes in a clear bottle. Well, there you have it (possibly). Is this the Corona of Scotland? Will it taste better if I stuff a deep-fried Mars bar in the bottle? We'll how the next one goes over tomorrow night, but for now I think I'll continue the experiments.

I'll need to do a bit more research into the Scottish brewing tradition and sort precisely why it ought to be viewed in a different light than something pitched by Billy Dee Williams. Nothing at all wrong with Billy Dee Williams, mind. He's not Scottish though, is he?

Some pun with the word porter

Took a hydrometer reading on my porter. I bought a new hydrometer last week as I was beginning to suspect that the one I picked up in Germany had a funny scale. I can now confirm this. My new 'murrikan hydrometer tells my beer is at 1.014. The kraut-thingy says about 1.040. There's clearly some Euro-confusion going on and one of these days I'll sort out just what it is. Until then, I'm happy with the knowledge that I might have a notion as to when my beer is done fermenting and can hazard a guess as to how much booze is in it. Had a taste of the sample. Pretty tasty. I think I'm going to bottle next Saturday, which will cause the four-pack samplers that I'm taking to some friends in Philadelphia to become proper six-pack samplers.

Meanwhile, I'm having a Sam Adams Wee Heavy. I really shouldn't as I've got a bit of a cold, but what the hell. I'll be going to bed soon and this will send me on my way nicely. I picked up a four-pack of this and the imperial stout. I'm happy with the variety that Sam seems to put out, but at the same time, it'd be nice if they had a nice stable of four or five that I could reliably pick up now and again. Brooklyn Brewery is great in that they have a steady roster, but still break out the one-offs. Dogfish Head could also follow this advice. Special is nice, but what's also nice is being able to buy something a second time.

Back to the beer. Rather nice. I had two of these last Friday while racking the porter to secondary (and painting my front door and watching Star Trek). I was surprised that it didn't get on top of me as it's a fairly big beer. ABV is 10% which would even make a Belgian sit up and take notice. It's a very thick, syrupy drink and I mean that in a good way. There are nice pockets of caramel and molasses lurking in this dark, peaty thing. It heads in the direction of being the ale equivalent of some instances of Starkbier. Nice. Certainly worth having again; it would be lovely at Christmas. Let's just hope I can still buy it in five months time.

It just occurred to me that I'm drinking a Wee Heavy and I heard the Phish song "Heavy Things" on the radio this morning. Cool, baby.

Johnny's in the basement...

... mixin' up the medicine. I am in the kitchen with the tombstone blues.

Wait. That's not quite right. I grabbed the porter from the basement and am now letting bleach do its magic before I rack the porter to secondary. I'm pleased with how it looks so far. I cooked it up last Saturday and although it took a while to get going, it seemed to ferment rather well. To all outward appearances, it went smoother than my first two batches. I cooled it down in a hurry, actually tried to take it off the trub, seemed to have gotten loads of oxygen by filling the carboy and I aerated with the fish tank de-vice. So all that's ok. I took a reading with my bizarre German hydrometer and got an OG of 1.075. I know that's dead wrong and I look forward to learning what sort of odd scale that thing is set to. I'll take a reading tonight and at least I'll know how it's doing in a relative sense.

I experimented with a layered hop addition this time. Porter isn't something known for its hop, so that was a bit of a fool's errand, but I love to try new things and I hate to wait. And a porter with complex and assertive hop is hardly going to annoy anyone, so there you are.

Meanwhile, I poured a glass of my hef side by side with a glass of Schneider (picture to follow later). I have to admit, I was pleased with the color that I got. Granted, color ought to be something that's very hard to F up, but it was a surprise given my initial reaction. When I first poured it, it seemed far too dark. A comparison with the cover of my book about German wheat beer seemed to confirm this, but there's no arguing that the Schneider looked very similar. That is to say, the color was similar. The head looked loads lovelier on the Schneider. As for taste, I didn't fare too bad here, either. There's no doubt that the Schneider was better- mine is still a banana bomb and somehow simultaneously too thin and too heavy. Still, my hef held its own. It wasn't nearly the disaster that I had been expecting and that's a very good thing.

Tomorrow night: tasting the ESB/strong ale/whatever. Bought a bottle of Fuller 1845 for comparison. Had an ESB, but I drank it last night. Like I said earlier, I hate to wait.

All Bottled Up

I bottled what I'm going to call the ESB on Saturday afternoon. Owing to a bit of imprecision over how much equals five gallons in the new glass carboy, I only had about four gallons and change of liquid which translated to 40 bottles. Actually, there was a bit more in the bottling bucket, but I had only sterilized 40 bottles, so that was all that went in. What to do with about a glass and a half of fermented, yet uncarbonated beer? Why, drink it, of course. I remain rather pleased and optimistic. Can't recall the color precisely off hand, but I do know that I tasted a bit of blackberry and raisin. This is similar to what I get from Fuller's bottled version of ESB, so I think I'm safe in dubbing it such.

Meanwhile, I'm having a glass of the Hefeweizen. It's been in the bottle long enough that it ought to have conditioned properly and I was quite pleased to see it pour with a nice full, rich head. It still tastes way too thick and underfermented, but it's good enough that it can be called a noble failure at worst.

Going to cook up some porter this weekend. In my head, I keep thinking of that as one of my favorite styles and yet I rarely drink it. I'm going to take one liberty with the instructions (still brewing from a kit). They have me putting the Cluster hops in for a full 60 minutes and then adding some Cascade at the end of the boil. I'm going to stagger the boiling hops in 15 minute increments. I'm hoping this gives the hop a bit more dimension. I'm also going to try that the next time I make Weissbier. That's one of the cool things about making beer: there's always room for improvement and always plenty of incentive. I'm not that big of a weissbier fan and yet, now that I've made some, I'd sort of like to make it as good as I can. Left to my own devices, I wouldn't go combing the world looking for the best weissbier I could find, but if I can make something lovely in my kitchen; well, that's worth the effort, isn't it?

Weiss Guy

Finally tasted the Hefeweizen tonight. The Westchester homebrewers are meeting tomorrow and I thought I'd give it a sip to see whether it could be shared with other, um, amateurs. It would seem that it is. Color is a fair bit darker than I would expect for a light Hef. It heads quite a ways into Dunkel territory. Can't blame me for that. I'll just have to see what other wheat extracts are out there. Having said (or typed) that, the kit had nothing but wheat extract (or so they say). Fairly sure that Bavarian Hefeweizen has a decent amount of light barley malt. That could be confirmed with a quick glance at one of several books on my shelf.

Anyhoo. Color is a bit dark, but still rather pretty. Not nearly enough foam, but I had expected that. The fermentation hadn't gone all that well, so I was prepared for an anemic head. Still, I've brewed worse. I got about a quarter inch of suds, which means it did better than a bitters. Quite a lot of bubbles in the glass, which was a nice surprise. Taste was not that bad at all. Something a bit off in the aftertaste and the nose, but nothing that makes it seem poisonous or fetid or anything dreadful. Really just a tiny bit of something-or-other that shouldn't ought to be there, but doesn't upset things all that much.

I poured it alongside Magic Hat's "Circus Boy" and Smuttynose's Summer Weizen Ale. Truth be told, I'd likely be just as happy with a glass of mine as either of those. OK, that's stacking the deck a bit; the Smuttynose is fairly dreadful. Still, it's good to know that the homebrew for which I had rather low expectations could hold its own against something store bought. I'll grab some Schneider for a proper comparison.

No place like foam

I have 10 gallons of partially fermented beer in my closet. In about an hour or so, I'm going to do some siphoning. The hefeweizen will go into the bottling bucket. Then the secondary fermentor will get cleaned and santized so that the ESB can go in. Then the hefeweizen goes into the carboy. See, the hefeweizen didn't ferment properly. There are at least two reasons for this: 1) I didn't chill fast enough and 2) poor (very poor) aeration. The first thing is actually ridiculously easy to fix. I used to pour the hot wort into the plastic bucket and then chill. Nonsense. The kettle can go straight into an ice bath in the sink and it insulates (probably) far less than the plastic. I also added a bag of ice to the wort (and next time I won't use store bought). Temperature dropped about 100 degrees in roughly five minutes. Hoorah. For the aeration, I went more high tech. Bought a plug-in device similar to ones used in fish tanks which forces oxygen into the wort. The result? Happy yeast bubbling merrily for about four days. I would have been happier if it had gone on a bit longer, but I'm guardedly optimistic.

The weissbier may be a lost cause. There is a chance that pouring it onto the yeast from the ESB may revive it, but I'm not going to hold my breath. If I had a still, I'd try to distill it. That would sort out the low alcohol and then some. Until then, I suppose I'll just hope for the best and drink it as it is.

Ten gallons in a few weeks. Can't wait.

For now I must cultivate my garden

There's very little on God's earth better than a beer garden and Munich is the best place to experience one.  Why are they so tremendous?  Because when you're there you can sit at a bench, surrounded by trees, have a conversation and drink a beer.  Also, they smell nice (like roasting pork or smoked fish).  Did I leave anything out?  What exactly is there to leave out?  A beer garden captures everything in your life that you're striving for, but have forgotten is your actual aim.  You may think that you're working hard to provide a comfortable quality of life for yourself and your family, some breathing space to bask and relax in, a tiny patch of ground you can call your own where no one will bother you: what you're really breaking your back for is a few hours in a beer garden.  There's nothing more to achieve and nothing that anyone can take away from you.  That bit of room and that bit of time is yours, yours alone.  Soak it up, you've earned it.  And if not, you can rent it for a while.

Beer gardens are God's own reward for having done a little something right on this planet and we'd be much the poorer without them.  I'm going to take my daughter to one this weekend.  She'll play in the gravel and I'll sit and stare at her and think about not much at all.  It's almost enough to make a man get religion.

God's gentle mercy on you Munich.  If I love you for nothing else, I love you for this.

Home

I don't drink much beer in Kentucky.  I come here to visit my grandparents and they don't do a lot of drinking.  That's just fine with me, as there's more to life than beer.  Nevertheless, a beer is still a nice thing to have.  It's about as easy to find a beer at my grandparents' in eastern Kentucky as it is to find one at an al Qaeda meeting.  It's not loads easier in central Kentucky, but on this visit, I've got an ace in the hole.  Last time we were here, I bought a four pack of Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale. I drank one and two others got shared by various family members.  The fourth was waiting for me when I arrived.

This ale is lovely.  It's rich, sweet and buttery like a big stack of pancakes.  My only complaint with this beer is- strangely- the best thing about it.  It tastes like bourbon.  I like bourbon and I especially like stuff that tastes like bourbon but doesn't burn my throat.  A glass of something that ought to taste like a boilermaker, but with a lower alcohol content ought to be something that I enjoy.  And, just so that we're clear, it is.  But the bourbon barrel ale tastes a little too much like a beer that somebody poured some bourbon into.  Don't get me wrong, it's still a splendid drink and I couldn't be more proud that it hails from my home state, but it's not yet the splendid marriage of two of my favorite beers that I know exists somewhere out there. 

Meanwhile, someday soon I need to sit down and have the side-by-side tasting of Bourbon Barrel Ale and Dragon's Milk.

The Stash: Day Three

Father-in-law and I shared a 750ml over dinner.  His first comment is that Brooklyner Schneider Hopfen Weisse sounded like the name of a law firm.  His second comment was that it was an excellent beer.  I'll agree (and so did my mother-in-law).  Loads of foam.  It pours a very nice head, which sticks around for quite a while.  It's hazy like a typical Munich weissbier and the same color that I find difficult to describe. (bronze?)  But the nose was much spicier.  My amateur guess is that I'm getting quite a lot of yeast, but as the yeast is a Schneider, I'm not so sure.  Perhaps there's just more of it?  In any event, quite a lot more olfactory fun than what one typically gets in Munich.  A lot of body, nice thick beer.  The taste was, to me, peppery and sweet (which makes it sound like mint, which it most certainly isn't), some clove, but virtually no banana.  Very nice beer.

I had read about this in a beer magazine about a year ago.  They had an article about the sorry state of beer in Germany and as a beer enthusiast in Munich, I felt vindicated.  I'll not bore anyone with another rant about the bland German beer scene, but I will make this point: this beer is the result of cooperation between an American and a German brewer.  I can buy a bottle of the stuff in Boca Raton, Florida, but I probably can't track it down anywhere in Munich.  That's a shame.  I'm certain that the good people at Schneider would have brewed this in accordance with Reinheitsgebot and whatever other constraints they felt would have lead to a better product.  Meanwhile, Garrett Oliver would have ensured that the end result tasted good and offered something new.  This is a brilliant example of exploiting the best ideas that two fine brewing traditions have to offer, but one of those traditions will likely not benefit from the result.

A mental check of the calendar informed me that I need to pick up the pace if I'm going to finish the stash before I head on to Kentucky.  So, I also cracked open Three Philosophers from Ommegang.  I think I might not be all that wild about the big Belgian darks.  Sure it's nice, I just don't think I can stand up and shout about this.  Nice roasted coffee flavor, a bit of the molasses.  A nice sweet, sticky beer, but overall a bit of a miss for me.  I've got three more Ommegang to try.  We'll see how they do.

And meanwhile, I had a Sam Adams Summer Ale with lunch at Tarpon Bend.  Rather nice, with a pleasant bit of citrus.  The malt reminded me a of a Kölsch.

Going to the Dogfishes

Day two of working through the big stash that I acquired.  Tonight was red meat for everyone other than me (I had chicken) and I figured there'd be a bit more sharing involved as both father and father-in-law would be in attendance.  So, I went for the 750 ml of Black & Blue from Dogfish Head.  I'll go on record as saying that I think Dogfish Head is probably the most innovative brewery in the US, which makes them probably the most innovative brewery in the world.  Sam Calgione is a fearless brewer, willing to do damn near anything to deliver something fresh, new and so, so, tasty.  What I love about Dogfish Head is that they're not confined to what beer is.  As much as I rant about the sorry state of beer drinking in Germany, I do admire the fact that they stick to something pure, simple and honest.  Dogfish Head doesn't give a damn about any of that.  They're more interested in blowing your mind.  I'll write down what I thought about the beer itself in a minute, but having checked out their website, I see that they have a brief video of Sam, himself, describing the beer.  Let's watch:

OK, first reaction is that Sam Calgione seems a bit tipsy.  Mind, if I worked at that brewery I'd probably be half in the bag as often as not.  Still, I expect he'd sober up if he knew a camera was on.  So, the beer.  Well, on that point, I'd say that I found this very drinkable for the alcohol content.  I can't believe it's 10%.  Typically at that strength I think I'd notice that it was a "big" beer.   This had much less of a footprint than wine (at a slightly lower alcohol content, but still).  The next thought is that this might be the gateway drug for wine snobs to consider beer.  It comes in a 750 ml bottle, can easily be shared and has enough fruit in it to keep Andrea Immer chatting for a while.  My final thought, too much fruit.  I loved it at first, but by the time I got to the end, I had about had it.  It made me think of a Berliner Weisse with a shot of fruit juice (which is, for the record, the wrong way to drink a Berliner Weisse).  Given that I was the only one drinking it- dad opted for my last Sierra Nevada Torpedo and papa-in-law took a Corona- this is a bit unfair.  If you split it with a friend, you'll be happy.  Final comment: love the yeast!  The yeast- I presume a Belgian strain- was very big on the nose and very welcome.

And it stoned me

In south Florida for the first half of a three week vacation in the States.  Travel in the US&A means that I can wallow in the giddy thrill of shopping for beer and finding buckets of variety.  I finally got a bit of time at the Total Wine store in Boca Raton.  It took me a few minutes to get my bearings.  I stared at a wall of colored labels from a lot of breweries I'd never heard of wondering just where to begin.  The first decision was to stick to US beers.  It's a hassle, but if I'm desperate for something Belgian, Chimay can be found in Munich and I'm in London often enough that I get the odd ale.  Decision two was to stick with breweries that I was familiar with, but beers I hadn't yet tried.  And the winners were: Dogfish Head Ommegang, Shiner, Brooklyn Brewery and Stone.

Tonight, my father-in-law and I split a Stone Pale Ale and a Levitation.  The Pale Ale was just ok.  There was more dark malt than I had expected.  Bear in mind that I'm never quite sure what to expect when I crack open a pale ale, but in my head they're a lighter color and not quite as sweet.  The Levitation, on the other hand, was sublime.  This has one of the nicest hop aromas I've ever sniffed.  It was like smelling a glass of liquid hops.  Lovely, lovely stuff.

Eyeing Up The Alps

Tonight I'm drinking the last of the 9-pack from Biershop Bayern.  This time, I get to enjoy Ayinger's magnificent Celebrator.  I've only had this once before and I had to travel to Aying to do it.  In my memory, it was the loveliest Starkbier that I'd had at the time.  It was a rather cold day and I was on my own.  The S-Bahn, for some reason, ran on an odd schedule, that forced me to wait at an interim stop for about 15 minutes.  While there, I struck up a conversation with an Englishman that had been in Munich for years- we spoke a few sentences in German, before realizing that neither of us was speaking their native language.  He tried to explain cricket to me and I tried to explain baseball to him.  We parted company none the wiser.

The brewery was closed for the day, so I was unable to have a look around, though I got a very nice look at the outside of the place.  I found myself in a nearby Gasthaus, ordered a glass of Starkbier and stuck my head in a book.  After half a glass, I wasn't reading much of anything.  It was just have a sip, savor, stare at the bar, giggle and feel happy to be alive.  I drank another and then headed back to the train.  It was dusk at this point, but with a clear sky I could see the Alps in the distance.  An absolutely gorgeous sight.  Nothing but flat, clear country and then those monstrous things rising up out of nothing, like God shrugging his shoulders.

Everything's comin' up Rosenheim

Clearly, I have no ability to keep up a beer blog. But in the interests of letting this zombie lurch a few steps further, here's what I'm drinking now: Josefi Bock from the Flötzinger brewery in Rosenheim.  It's a Starkbier and one of nine that arrived from the good people at Biershop Bayern.  Yes, it's depressing that I have to get beer via mail order when I live in Bavaria.  Still, at least it doesn't have to travel all that far.

Meanwhile, here's a link to a lovely picture at Flötzinger's website.  It's an idyllic view of country life in this part of the world.  Makes me thirsty.  It also makes me laugh about the calf socks.

Two If By See

So Augustiner won the first round of the great Helles challenge, though it was hardly an impressive victory. Day one produced a few notes- I'm not very good at describing the beers I drink in detail- but day five produced only "meh" for both beers. I was pleased that at least I made a consistent selection. In the end, it was a verrry slightly hoppier taste that won the day for Augustiner.

We now move on to round two. This time, I'm stepping outside the city limits to try two breweries that are also quite popular within Munich: Andechs and Tegernseer. (Sadly, finding Ayinger in bottles in Munich is a Quixotic task.) My wife dutifully poured me two beers, marked one of the glasses and I got to work. Beer one was a slightly darker color than beer two. This is a plus. Munich helles pours very, very light. It'll be a while before I drink an American Budweiser, but when and if I do, I'll pay attention to how light it is. It's hard to get much lighter than Munich helles. Beer one also had a bit of aroma from the head. This is also a plus. I'll admit that between sinuses and allergies, you have to beat me over the head with a scent, but I have to practically snort a helles until I can smell it. The taste was ok, but nothing remarkable.

Beer two had very nice head. While I complain about the lightness of the liquid, I have to confess, that I love a nice, pure white pile of foam on the top of a glass of helles. The scent may have had a bit of pine. This one actually tasted pretty good. The hop was noticeable and there was a slightly sour malt.

Beer two was the winner. Can't wait to drink four more and see which one I actually prefer.

What the Helles

Of all the beers I've had, I think I can conclusively say that my least favorite style is helles. Pils is saved from the bottom by virtue of the fact that it at least has (when some people brew it) some decent hop. The one time I went to the Czech Republic, I drank my weight in fine Czech pilsner and have fond memories of the stuff. This ought to indicate that calling something my least favorite stlye is a bit like saying that blonde is my least favorite hair color on a woman.

Trouble is, helles is the preferred style here in Munich. This means that when people talk about the relative merits of particular beers the conversation devolves to an expression of preference for one brand over another. In my mind (and in my coarse palate) there's not a dime's bit of difference from one helles to the other, but I've seen people get quite expressive about how good Augustiner is, or how abysmal Spaten is. Augustiner is god-like, pure, tasty will make you feel euphoric but not silly and won't give you a hangover no matter how much you drink. Spaten is made by squeezing the hay that horses have pissed on. It's rotgut and only drunk by the lower classes or tourists.

I think that both views are probably nonsense and I struggle to understand how people get worked up in holding opinions about a beer that is- in my opinion- designed to taste like virtually nothing. The one word you'll see most often in any description of how helles should taste is "subtle". Some others you'll see are "nuanced", "balanced" and "gentle". This is all shorthand for the fact that helles won't offend anyone.

Some weeks ago, I decided to sort out which helles in Munich I actually liked via a blind tasting. I had done this once before with Starkbiers, but wasn't happy with the process. Then, I took five breweries and had them face off in a round robin style. What I found is that the results were not always consistent. Paulaner may win big one night and then barely lose the next. So, with the helles, I thought it best to have two breweries meet head to head repeatedly for at least five times. The first two challengers: Augustiner vs. Paulaner. I drank one of each for five nights and recorded my observations. I've established a winner, which will get discussed in the next post.

My second post

So the other nice thing about Blogspot is that it allows me to post links to other beer related content. This not only serves as a convenient place to store highly important links, but it also lets people know how well informed I am about beer on the internet.

With that out of the way, on to beer. Tonight I had two Aventinus. I have a strange relationship with this beer. I'm fairly sure that I like it. Whenever I'm in grocery stores, I routinely check to see if it's there. (More on German grocery stores and beer later.) In the end, I probably consume about two to four bottles of the stuff per year. And every time I do, I think to myself, "This is really just ok". I think my biggest complaint about Aventinus is that it's just too heavy. You're drinking so much, it's hard to know what it is that you're tasting. (If I were a more sophisticated sort, this is where I'd say something about "mouthfeel".) It's the beer that eats like a meal. There's a nice sweetness, virtually invisible hop and, naturally, a nice bit of alcohol. It's no secret that I like "big" beers- I think eight percent is about the minimum for a beer. So, I like the bite of alcohol in the Aventinus. But I'm not sure if I'm all that thrilled with everything else.

Ask me again in six months.

My first post

Strictly speaking, I already have a blog. Having established that I can't routinely keep that up to date, I've decided to try and fail at keeping current with another blog. The difference? I'm using Blogspot, which seems to be what all the kids are doing these days. Mind, that's a fairly minor difference, as I had been using Apple's iWeb, which is a fairly nice content editor. Much like Blogspot, iWeb lets one build content in a fairly tiny little sandbox, but it allows you to get things published quickly. And, me being lazy, this is a good thing.

My intent is to use this space to discuss beer, one of my favorite hobbies. So, without further ado, here's what I'm drinking now. (Not right now, mind, it's the middle of the afternoon and most of my beer consumption happens at a fairly civilized hour. Two pints per night- whether I need them or not- after my daughter goes to sleep for the night.) Yesterday was a good day for beer purchases. We were ought of tea, which meant a trip to the English store, which has some Fullers and Samuel Smith on offer. I picked up two bottles of ESB and two of 1845. A short while later, I took a quick trip across the river (after dumping off the weeks recycling) to Giesingerbraeu (too lazy for the umlaut at the moment). I picked up two of their starkbier- Delirium- and had a brief chat with the brewmaster. Turns out he's from Munich, which is a bit of a surprise, as you'd expect him to be working at any of the giant breweries in the area. Instead, he's set up shop in what looks like an abandoned garage to produce beer that will be a tough sell for the Munich palate. We expressed a shared fondness for Franconian beer and frustration that it was so hard to obtain in Munich.

On the way home, I poked my head into a Getraenkemarkt (still lazy about the umlaut) and bought a couple Aventinus and two other minor label beers, the name of which escapes me.

Had the Delirium and have to admit I was slightly disappointed. It was quite tasty, but for a starkbier, not really consistent with the style. The color was neither copper nor dark. It poured out a sort of straw color, but with some ruby elements. Things coalesced as the bubbles faded to a kind of dingy brown. Not quite what I expect my starkbiers to look like. Taste was alright- quite sweet and caramelly- but with a bit too much wheat. Had I not spoken to the brewer, I would have been curious as to how it got there, but he did say that there was a bit of wheat. Still, I suppose my biggest complaint is that wasn't what I had been expecting. It is tasty, but I'm not sure how to classify it.

What am I drinking tonight? Not sure. After last night's experience with a slightly wheaty starkbier, I think I'll be leaning to the Aventinus. You'll know more tomorrow.