The Summit/Beer & Nosh Tasting Dinner

You know how it goes, right? First there's SF Beer Week, when you do really well for seven days, but then you get The Plague or something and you're sick for a week. Then you go to Vegas. Then you're employed again for the first time in five weeks. Then your boyfriend's mom comes to visit, then your friend moves in with you while she finds an apartment, then your mom comes to stay with you for 11 days, then it's your birthday. Then it's April, nearly two months after you've had one of the best dinners of your life, and even though you call yourself a "beer blogger", you never had the common decency to talk about it.

No? Just me? Well, try to imagine.

I missed Jesse's SF Beer Week dinner the year before. God only knows why. After seeing the pictures, I vowed that I wouldn't miss whatever he was doing this year. Our budget restricted us to choosing one of the two instead of going to both (the other dinner was at Flour+Water). The Summit's dinner fell on Valentine's Day, solving the "How to be romantic AND participate in seven straight days of beer" issue - we were set.


Don't let the words "Tasting Menu" fool you; this was a lot of food. I'm pretty sure we were there for at least three hours. Beer dinners like this are my absolute favorite format - each of these beers had a representative there to talk about where the beer came from, how it was made, what it was inspired by. It's an opportunity to educate everyone about what they're drinking, whether someone is a seasoned beer consumer or just willing to try new things. I firmly believe that education can do nothing but help in the world of beer and food. My beer life changed dramatically when I shifted from just buying six packs and instead going to visit breweries, trying to meet people, and really committing to the idea of how a bunch of grains turn into something roasty, or hoppy, or floral.


I have to say, I was most excited about trying the Almanac Summer 2010 Blackberry Ale. I had a small barrel sample months and months ago out of a squeezy plastic bottle at City Beer Store when Jesse dropped by to share samples; even warm and flat it was clear that this was going to become an outstanding beer. I arrived too late to try it at the Gala, but was mildly comforted by knowing I'd have access to it at the dinner. This was the first beer of the night and while it's hard to choose favorites, it came in very high on my list.

Other standout beers for me were the always excellent Drake's Brett Butler and the SF Brewers Guild California Common - but I can't reinforce enough that I have no complaints about the beer list. The Firehouse Brewing Belgian IPA, inspired by Houblon Chouffe, is a lovely take on Belgian yeast with a California twist, and I've never had a variation of Speakeasy's Payback Porter that I didn't like.


Its pairing was a Scallop and Citrus Ceviche. Those big orange pieces on the plate? That's ale carbonated citrus. How is it possible, if science allows such a thing, that all citrus doesn't come ale carbonated? Travesty. The carbonation lightens the texture and once you bite into it, it's sort of a gentler Pop Rocks for adults. I can come up with silly descriptions all night, folks, but just know that it was delightful.


My table highly enjoyed the "Edible Garden" of espresso mole and pancetta. The pancetta was divine, and while the dry mole was a little disorienting to me, I really enjoyed the flavor.


Despite an adventurous palate and a love for everything that's within a degree or two of "edible", there is no denying that I'm a midwestern girl from a meat town, and when I see braised ANYTHING on a menu, I get excited. The vadouvan braised shortrib course was a huge hit for me. The lentils and carrots had a nice balance of sweetness and earthiness, and paired with the falling-apart shortrib, this was probably the hit of the night for me.


It had stiff competition, of course, from a pastry filled with Tallegio cheese, paired with a Double IPA.


The foie torchon was a little too much for me. A very, very generous serving of foie gras, served on a round of brioche and drizzled with a duck egg sabayon. The flavor was divine, but a little rich for my tastes. Paired very smartly with the Belgian IPA, however, which had the right amount of hoppy and sweet to cut through the decadent fullness of the foie.


I didn't make it over to Humphrey Slocombe this year to try the beer ice creams, so it was a special treat to know I was going to be having a beer float made with one of my favorite beers. I also had the pleasure of having Jake and Emily, who were responsible for making the ice cream, as my dinner companions for the night. The espresso and the balsamic in the ice cream, combined with the TCHO-infused Speakeasy Porter, just knocked this dish out of the park for me. I could have eaten my serving and everyone else's at the table. I'm not ashamed to admit there was bowl-licking.


It is truly embarrassing that it took me so long to get this dinner written about, but it is a testament to the strength of the menu and the beer list that these memories are still so vivid for me so many weeks later. Jesse's SF Beer Week dinners are always a standout, and it was a particular treat to enjoy his beer at one of them. Cheers to the chef, the brewers, and the many volunteers that made this night possible - it was a perfect way to spend Valentine's Day.

Also see Jesse's very good writeup with far superior photos here.

Reflections on SF Beer Week

I attended 19 beer events over the course of seven days. That's 19 events all within a five mile radius of my house.

I skipped the last three days of SF Beer Week because I was so sick I could have infected all the thousands of you that kept on going right through the 20th. With 19 events, I think it's safe to estimate that I consumed roughly 97,000 beers within 168 hours time. This estimation is rough, of course, but I assume yours are similar.

Joking aside, let's talk for a moment about how lucky we all are to have a week like this to participate in. I've never been a part of a beer week in another city. I hear Denver is great, I hear Philly is great. Everyone I know that's been to Oregon during beer month tells me how much I'd love it. I'm sure I'll make it out to all those cities eventually, but for the moment, I'm happy to revel in what we've got right here.

I'd like to get a little personal and nostalgic for a moment. I moved to San Francisco on September 1st, 2008. I had no money, literally living off of a loan that in the pre-credit crisis era was able to be maxed out on things like rent and burritos that could be stretched to last three days. (Say what you will about Taqueria Cancun; when you've got a broken collar bone and you're living at 18th & Mission, you can make one last for breakfast, lunch and dinner and maybe even breakfast the next day.) I knew one person. He only knew me. The social situation was, let's say, sparse.

I made it a little worse for myself by insisting on being a freelancer. Being a freelancer performs two opposite tasks simultaneously: You meet a ton of people, and you become friends with absolutely none of them. I've racked up more professional contacts in this city than I could start to list, but friends took a little bit longer to find.

Before San Francisco, I made legitimate stabs at building a life in Kansas City, New York City and Cincinnati, three cities with excellent access to craft beer. I've lived with accessible Bell's, Brooklyn, Boulevard - if you can get it between Colorado and Maine, I've probably lived somewhere I could pick it up. When I moved to the west coast, I wasn't excited about moving to some crazy beer mecca. Cincinnati's beer scene was exploding just as I was about to leave with incredible bars and people that cared so much about showcasing their more-than-a-century-old brewing philosophy. Moving to San Francisco made me a little heartbroken, to be honest, for all the beer I'd be losing in my day to day life.

You don't have to go back to 2008 and slap me; I don't need it. You could gently tell me how much I was about to learn and how much my life was about to change, though.

Moving to a completely new area of the country prepped with a really solid knowledge base from somewhere else just turns you into a kid in a candy store. I wandered into Shotwell's, nee Inner Mission Beer Parlor, about two months into moving west. Within a few months I had tried everything on the menu. It wasn't enough. Corner stores, brewpubs, nerdy beer blogs - give it to me.

Somewhere along the line, I got "into" the beer world. I don't know how it happens. You make some friends on Twitter. You start to recognize people because you're always at the same events. You share information, you retweet. You write about beer every once in awhile. Someone sees you talking to people about beer often enough and they decide you know your stuff; soon enough you're being introduced to distributors and brewers. Somewhere along the line, nothing is enough. Never satisfied, never done learning.

It has been an absolute pleasure to party with all of you for the past week. Is it really nerdy that most of my real life friends directly or indirectly met me through the Internet? I don't care. My word, what a party this week was. I have learned to stop blushing when someone introduces me as "At JRizzo". I shared beers - in some cases, quite literally - with so many of you. I wasn't alone anywhere. I'm no longer faceless in this city, and I have beer to thank.

I get so much joy out of telling people stories about our beer scene. A non-beer-drinking friend (I've got them, yes) came by to see me at 21A on Imperial Jack night and wanted to know what the big event was. I told her the whole thing - the first brewing of Imperial Jack, who Richard is, why ESB is so special, what this beer is about, how it came to be entered into the World Beer Cup. Stories I've heard over sharing pints with the people who make the beer as well as the people who love it. Stories that make this city's beer scene more than good beer, more than creative beer, more than just a list of places to grab a pint. I take so much pride in knowing all of those things. I sat at the Beer and Nosh dinner at The Summit and someone opened a door for me to spend three minutes describing the science and use of Brettanomyces, and they cared. They listened. We learned together.

People are always asking how I know this person or that person, how I know what beer is where, how I know where the cool events are. Just saying "Twitter" sounds so silly, doesn't it? I'll figure out how exactly it works sometime, but for now, it's certainly not hurting anything.

Nineteen events. I'm still sorting through all of the photos, and god knows I'll never be able to list all the beer. If I tried less than 100 different beers this week, I'd be shocked. They were all real. Someone made every single one of them. They aren't competing; they're friends. Beer community, you're a card.

Thank you to everyone for the laughter, for the hugs, for the sips of your beer, for the glasses of water, for the immediate @ responses when one of you posted about a fascinating beer that made me rush across town to try it. Singling out my favorite event is impossible, but Breweries of Tomorrow, The Summit, MK/Heart Cask Night, Lost Coast at South End, Local at Shotwell's, Breckle's at Anchor, and Russian River at Pi all hold pretty dear places in my heart.

Over the next couple of weeks I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of great recaps roll in. I'm looking forward to your thoughts, to weeks worth of discussion, and to a whole year to anticipate doing this ride all over again. Cheers, y'all.

Breweries of Tomorrow Recap

The Breweries of Tomorrow nanobrewing festival was one of my most anticipated events of SF Beer Week. Organized by Brian of All Over Beer and Bay Area Craft Beer and held at Social Kitchen & Brewery, the point of this event was to highlight my very favorite trend in craft beer: nanobrewing.

"Breweries of Tomorrow" was a particularly clever and spot-on name for the event. These are breweries led by homebrewers on speed. People like me roll into Brewcraft every few months and get a couple pounds of malt extract - people like them write business plans and design logos. These are homebrewers who are really, really good at it. Having nine of them showcased at an event is so exciting because it means within the next few years, we're going to have at least nine new full-scale production breweries to fawn over.

A great aspect of SF Beer Week is how many events are centered around meeting brewers. There are people behind your beer, friends - smart people who love beer the way you do, they just get paid to make it. The new nanobrewing trend is exciting not just because they're going to upgrade to microbrewing soon enough, but because you get to watch that whole process happen. These breweries are evolving and changing ten gallons at a time. The beers showcased last night are results of trial-and-error, and by this point they're all nearly perfected.

When I ran into Brian at the gala on Friday, he expressed concern that there might be a really sizable crowd. He was right.



I arrived half an hour early and was about the twentieth person in line. By the time the doors opened at 5:00, the line had gotten completely out of control. I know a lot of people ended up coming by and weren't able to get in - when the place hit capacity, it became one in, one out. It was certainly crowded, but by no means unmanageable. The setup worked really well - three tables, three brewers at each table.

Pours were... let's say, "generous". My word, there was a lot of booze. As a result, though, people needed to visit tables far less frequently, so getting a beer was never a problem. There was a steady flow of people moving at all times from what I could tell, but I never waited more than a minute to get a beer. Step up, get a beer, find somewhere to post up for a bit while you drink your beer.



This was, by far, the best deal of Beer Week. $15 gets you a commemorative glass, two beer tickets for the Social brews, and access to all the nanobrew you want. With the generous pouring, $15 scored a really, really ridiculous amount of beer. I don't know a single person that walked away unhappy (or sober). Oh, and there were water kegs! Dear, sweet water kegs. Thank you for being there for me.



Reviewing all the beers seems a little silly, because what everyone should really do is look up times when these brewers open their doors and go visit to talk to them about what they're making and where they're going. I will say that standouts included Daddy's Chocolate Milk from Elizabeth Street Brewing, Pacific Brew Labs' Hibiscus Saison, Local Brewing Co's Sutro Tower Stout, the Belgian Strong from Beltane and the Bitter from Bosworth. Those being singled out, however, I didn't have a thing all night that I disliked.



I really hope this trend continues. I hope this event happens every year, and I hope we see new nanobrewers stepping up to join in. The nanobrewing trend has felt a little cultish up to this point - you're in the know or you aren't. Breweries of Tomorrow provided great publicity for the little guys and hopefully gave all nine brewers a push to get those distribution licenses even faster. Seriously, we love your beer. Let's see it on shelves.

Thoughts on SF Beer Week Opening Gala

It's really hard to deal with the fact that so many people are getting into craft beer, isn't it? (Most of my problems are first world. I admit this out of the gate.) We worked so hard for so long to get people to love things that weren't Miller Lite. Countless "No, here, try this" attempts met with turned up noses, more piss-water comments than one person can possibly be required to handle from someone sucking down well vodka.

And THIS is our reward? The beer dinners we once held precious sell out faster than we can get to a computer. The beers we anticipate for months get snapped off the shelves before you can get off work. The thing we once looked at as "ours" and really wanted everyone to share with us now belongs to everyone. News stories circulate from time to time about how craft beer is outselling everything, beat the recession, and might as well be the only thing keeping the economy afloat, but it's how that trend trickles down that gets me.

And annoys me. Again - first world.

It's not that it should just be OURS, you know, but the system has not scaled itself up to meet demand. Just because there are ten times as many people drinking craft beer doesn't mean production has ramped itself up in the exact same amount. This was terribly clear last night.

Lots of good folks planned the SF Beer Week Opening Gala. Lots of good, smart people, who love beer. It was a largely thankless job for them and I can't imagine how much stress went into it. I'm thankful that they do things like this so I don't have to, but that being said, I'm about to get super critical. I'm sorry, guys, but I sincerely hope you all learn from these mistakes for last year. And, yes, they were absolutely mistakes.

I bought the $45 Early Bird regular ticket instead of the $65 VIP. That mistake gets to be on my part, and I won't be making it again next year. My reasons weren't really financially driven, more that I knew it was unwise for me to start drinking beer at 3:30 in the afternoon, stay through all of my regular ticket friends showing up from 5-9, then try to hit the Toronado after party. $20 for an hour and a half that will probably just lead to me being drunk and belligerent is not the way I wanted to start Beer Week, so I decided to go with the 5:00 option. Of course, had I waited instead of being responsible and buying my ticket early, the day regular ticket sales went on, I could have bought the VIP ticket for $56 via a Groupon knockoff. Brian has already covered that much better than I would over here at All Over Beer, so I'll save myself the breath needed for that one.

We arrived late, which is a combination of my mistake and Muni being Muni. Delays I am incapable of understanding meant we got there around 6. I had been reading the updates on how bad the line was via Twitter, so I'm not sure what I thought would happen - maybe there was a huge bottleneck at 5 and things would be better an hour later? I couldn't have been more wrong. We waited in line for an hour.

Let's discuss crowd calming, shall we? When we were about 75 people back in line - after we had been waiting for 45 minutes already - someone was sent out to inform the angry, sober people holding $45 tickets on what was happening. He started out by saying that they weren't going to cut off the crowd - yet - and wanted to reassure us that they hadn't overbooked, there's just a fire code on how many people can be inside at once.

Allow me to take a moment to talk about how overbooking goes. I'll use an airplane as an example. An airplane has 200 seats. The airline sells 210 seats. This is traditionally referred to as "overbooking". It is particularly effective on morning flights, because people miss those flights. By overbooking, they can ensure that the 200 seats will be filled. In the event that all 210 people show up, they have to reschedule and offer people new incentives to bail on the flight - a $150 travel voucher for a new flight or something. The airline loses money on this, but since it usually works out, they keep overbooking. And, because airlines are smart enough, they don't get on the speaker and announce "We didn't overbook the plane, but 10 of you that bought tickets can't fit on it."

So let's apply that to something we're all also familiar with, say, a beer festival that opens one of the most popular beer weeks in the country. The building can hold, say, 1000 people. You have two options: you can sell 1000 tickets, or you can overbook. What you CANNOT do is pretend you're not overbooking, because that's ridiculous, and the last thing you should do is tell people who have been standing in line for 45 minutes that you didn't overbook, it's just "fire code". We were reassured, however, that once we got inside, it was going to be "awesome".

I should note that they were willing to refund people's tickets if they gave up, but I wasn't worried about the money. I was worried about the beer. And I was right.

So, of course, we get through the doors and they're out of glasses. Frustrating. Also expected, by this point. And before I can even get to the place where my disposable plastic cup is, Jesse of Almanac greets me with "We're out of beer." This would be a common theme in the next two hours of my life.

You will not be reading reviews here for Almanac, Lagunitas Fusion, Marin's 21 Year Old Ale, Speakeasy's Ritual Payback Porter, Moonlight's Two Weeks Notice, Pliny the Younger, Supplication, Vertical Jewbilation, or quite a few others that you might be interested in discussing. They were all gone.

The phrase of the night was "shit show". Why were there so many people there? (Furthermore, why did people on a damned Bloomspot mailing list get to walk right in while those of us who were responsible and gave our money to the event early had to stand there waiting for an hour? Poor form, guys.) Sell half as many tickets. Double the price. Sell a third and triple the price, for christ's sake.

It's completely unclear who this event was for. Was it for beer geeks? We're a good community, but we're a pretty small community. Usually I feel like things like this are thrown for us - weird one-off beers are kind of our bread and butter. I kind of doubt that Fusion is brewed for people who don't drink beer. Or, if I'm wrong, was the idea to expose people to beer? If that's the case, be a little more upfront about that. I had a similar criticism for the "Beer Fest" at the Giants stadium last year - too crowded, full of people that are just there because they want to get drunk, nothing geared toward beer folk. Be upfront about what kind of an event you're organizing. It really felt like we got tricked on this one.

And I want my glass. I'm very serious about that glass, guys.

I'm also serious about water. If there was any water to be found, I have no idea where it was. I had a giant bottle in my bag and I'm terribly glad that I did. There's got to be somewhere that you can rent little water systems and hire one person to run around all night and make sure they're staying full. It's just responsible.

Overall, I had a really good time. I did. But that wasn't due to the event at all, it was due to all the great folks in our beer community. The social aspect of events like this is great - you get to talk about new beers, you get to introduce everyone to everyone else. I feel like I know a pretty big number of people in our little community, but I got to put some additional faces to Twitter names, which is always a great (if startling) experience.

Oh, and next year, I'm not even going to try to go to Toronado. That one's not worth discussing; we all knew that was going to be impossible. Cheers to those of you smart enough to leave the gala early and get tables.

Next year: Jumping on the VIP ticket, assuming I'm going to take a half day off of work and be there before 3:30. Lesson learned.

Locavore, Bernal Heights

I love beer bars. Love them. I love brewpubs, too. But what I'm really drawn to are local neighborhood spots that really care about the beer that they serve, even if they don't have thirty taps. If you have thirty taps, I'm probably a fan - but I can only drink a few beers in a night, you know? Variety is perfect, but sometimes I just want to walk into the place on my corner and find some really great beers.

I happen to live in an area of San Francisco that has just blown up with places like this. It's not really my style to write about restaurants, but I think it's worth highlighting places that are really making an effort. South End Grill & Bar, at the corner of 26th & Valencia, is one of my newest regular hangouts. Seven taps of good, local beer, affordable food, and a Warriors game on the television. I live on the same block as Pi Bar and have considered it my regular spot for over a year. Front Porch is my favorite restaurant on this end of town, and last night they had Double Daddy on cask. I'm really, really lucky - and even though these places (with the exception of Pi, perhaps) aren't "beer bars", they're worthy of very serious discussion.

The newest kid on the block for me is Locavore. Locavore (3215 Mission St., Bernal Heights) has been there for a few months now, but somehow its opening just passed me by. It's right at the corner of Mission and Valencia, next to the southern instance of Taqueria Cancun. True to its name, the idea behind Locavore is locally sourced products. They're a little behind the curve on this one: who isn't turning to local farms these days? It's pretty elitist to say, and for every local, sustainable restaurant there are probably twenty more that aren't - but local ingredients are nothing new, and it's a little surprising to me to see yet another restaurant opening whose entire selling point is based off of regionalism.



Criticism of mission aside, I think Locavore is a very good neighborhood spot, and I know I'll be back. I ordered a burger (medium rare) with cheese (I was told it was a "white American cheese") and a side of sauteed rapini. The rapini was a very good choice - sauteed with a whole garlic clove in what appeared to be a little olive oil and red pepper flakes. Not terribly inventive or challenging but very, very solid, and a hearty portion for the $3 side cost. The burger was cooked to my specifications, came on a fresh roll and was quite tasty. Very simple, so if you prefer a loaded-up burger, make sure you're adding extras.



This isn't a restaurant blog, though, is it? It isn't. It's a beer blog, and their beer list is a fairly extensive one. Four taps currently include Trumer Pils, Lagunitas Lil' Sumpin', Anchor Liberty, Bison Organic Gingerbread (incorrectly listed as "Bison Organic Ginger Beer" on the menu) and 20+ bottles give you quite a few options. True to the name of the place, everything is local. Sudwerk, Blue Frog, Moylan's, Black Diamond and Anchor are all included here.

Even with such a list, I have a few complaints - while the selection is good, it really feels like it's just meant to be a combination of local beers without much thought put into it. There are so many breweries within a 100 mile radius of this restaurant, and it's clear that they limited their choices to certain distributors and missed out on some really great opportunities. Speakeasy is two miles from Locavore. Russian River would have filled a couple of key holes on the menu. Four Blue Frog beers, three Sudwerk beers, five Moylan's/Marin beers - this is not to say that any of these are bad, just that the list looks really scattered and feels like it was whatever the distributor told them to buy instead of a carefully curated list.



It also doesn't feel like we're seeing much of a seasonal focus, which is too bad considering the theme of the restaurant. I know it's nearing the end of winter and this is sort of a transitional time on seasonal beers, but it's also the week before SF Beer Week and it would have been really nice to see a place that boasts 26 beer selections get more involved.

I am terribly grateful for the opportunity to be this choosy, however. To have so many options and get to say "why not them?" instead of whining that they aren't focusing locally at all is pretty great, but since we HAVE those opportunities, I just wish a little more attention was being paid to things. Kudos to the nod to Bison Brewing, whose products are quite in line with the idea of Locavore. I'm hopeful that this restaurant ages well and comes into their own, and I'm also hopeful that bottle list rotates and includes some more truly local options as they figure out their place in the community.

Beer for Wine Lovers

Advance warning: This post is pretty unpolished and was born out of a casual email to a friend last night. I plan to update it over time (and will need to, because some of these beers are temporary and I'd like to keep it topical), and I'm rushing to Ohio in 24 hours, so this is the amount of polish I've been able to put on it so far.

My friend and fellow beer blogger Jeff forwarded me an email last night asking for beer recommendations for wine people. I happen to know a lot of wine lovers, and so does Jeff, and their beer tastes are so varied that this is a particularly stumping question. I also think it's a really great question - some people like pairing food, I like pairing wine and beer. Jeff gave some suggestions and copied me in on the email, and I hit the ground running. I am by no means an expert, so take these with a grain of salt and please feel free to disagree in the comments. Also, the brand suggestions are specific to San Francisco distribution, but many of these beers can be snagged nationwide.

My very first suggestion for a hardcore wine drinker is this year's Stone Vertical Epic (10.10.10). The whole concept of these beers is that they should be aged for a full vertical drinking (or, drinking every year's in succession to see how they compare to one another as they've aged), but I think it's particularly lovely right now. At approximately $6 for a 22 oz. bottle, you can afford to buy a few to try and buy a few to stash away, if that's your thing. Muscat, sauvignon blanc and gewurztraminer grapes are added in secondary fermentation to a beer that starts off as a Belgian strong brewed with pale malt. Wine drinkers will most likely pick up on this. It's simultaneously a little challenging and terribly drinkable and hits the top of my suggestions list for anyone.

I recommend nearly everything from The Bruery. Orchard White may be the greatest for non-beer drinkers - it's carbonated, it's light, it's sweet without being syrupy. I have never poured it for someone and had them dislike it - caveat here being that it may be hard to get ahold of this time of year. (It's year-round, but they make so many incredible beers that your local stores may pass it over in colder weather.) Jeff's suggestion in a similar category is the Allagash White, which I would second. The Allagash is a little too full in the mouth for me, but I know a ton of people like it. The Bruery also makes a couple of saisons, and as always, I think the Odonata Saison is one of the greatest beers available in Northern California. (North Coast's Le Merle is also not a bad choice.) It would go incredibly well with Christmassy food. Saison Dupont is lighter and more dry than your American saisons and could resonate with wine drinkers used to lighter, less sweet wines. Brasserie Dupont also makes a seasonal beer, Avec Les Bons Voeux. If you can find it, it's fantastic. The 2009 is good; I think I actually prefer the 2010.

A big question is "What kind of wine do they prefer", but on the off chance that you don't know or that they're like me and the very irritating answer is "all of it", let's keep going.

Orval is by and large one of the greatest beers ever. It is not cheap, it is not always easy to find. It is lovely. A very light Belgian with brett added - not enough brett to pucker your mouth by any means, but the right amount to dry out the sweetness of the yeast. Stunning, and my regular replacement in champagne-worthy settings. (At a fraction of the cost, despite me claiming it's expensive.) Warning - the brett that exists in this beer, and any brett-based beers that I may mention, is that brett in wine is a VERY BAD THING. So if you bring something sour or bretty, please god mention that in beer, brett can be a really great thing. (I'm big into stories when I bring a new beer somewhere, so if you bring Orval, you should read Jesse's really great writeup at Beer & Nosh.)

A gueuze - Lindeman's Cuvee Rene, which is probably located close to their lambics - is also a champagney choice. Much more dry, but I've seen it win over champagne drinkers.

I've never poured a Delirium Tremens for someone and received a turned-up nose in return. The same goes for Dogfish Head Festina Peche, which is unfortunately near impossible to find during the holidays, but is a perfect Easter beer. (People drink beer on Easter, right?)

I would love for a bottle of the Goose Island Bourbon County stout - this year's, or any year past if you can find it - to be on every table in America. It is one of the most challenging but pseudo-widely available beers during the holidays and it's perfect as an after-dinner drink. This is not for your light and fizzy friends, this one is for the port drinkers. The bourbon shines through without being overwhelming. Note, though, that it's incredibly thick and heavy. It'll pour with barely any head whatsoever. At 13%, pour it into small snifters and share it between a few of you. It's a little expensive (in San Francisco it's not uncommon to see around $7 for a 12 oz.), but with the small quantities you'll drink it in, it's well worth it.

If you've got gin drinkers, seek out a beer brewed with juniper berries. My favorite right now is St. Amand. You can find it at quite a few places in San Francisco (Shotwell's, Pi, Rosamunde, and I know I've seen it at the Whole Foods on Potrero). It's a Belgian single brewed with juniper berries and it's really, really great. Light and drinkable, with a very forward juniper taste that's far less earthy than what you'll get from gin. The Dogfish Head Sah'Tea is also brewed with juniper, but it's got a chai tea finish that gives it a totally different profile.

For wine drinkers accustomed to a smokier red - syrah and the like - you might be able to push the Alaskan Smoked Porter. The smoke flavor is a pretty acquired taste, but it's dark and rich without being heavy. Might go over well. Stone also makes a smoked porter, but I really prefer the Alaskan. Previous years will have a slightly different character as they age, but the 2010 is great right out of the bottle. Allow me to also suggest the humble Anchor Christmas, which I really like this year. It's spicy in all the right ways. An open-minded red drinker might dig it.

The Chimay family is always a good choice. I know beer nerds are sometimes sort of past the Chimay stage, but every time I have Chimay Red I'm struck by how much I really like it. The red is my personal preference, but your mileage may vary. Bringing one of each and having everyone try a little is a fun conversation starter. At around $9-10 per 750mL bottle, they won't break your boozy pocketbook, either.

I honestly believe there are beers out there beyond the occasional ciders for non-beer drinkers, and wine lovers might be one of my favorite groups. If we all approach one another with an open mind and stay away from the "mine is better" mentality, we probably stand to learn a lot from one another. Read your beer labels, find out what's in there that you really like (i.e. the juniper berries from above), and you might be surprised at how that carries across drink categories.

As of tomorrow, I'm hopping across the country for the next two weeks. I'll hopefully be drinking a Bell's Two Hearted when I get off the plane in 36 hours, and six days after that I'll be drinking Boulevard's Bourbon Barrel Quad. It's not a rough life I lead. Looking forward to catch up with all of them, and all of you, in the new year. Cheers!

On taste, why I don't judge your music, and good beer

It's time to talk about my favorite thing in the whole wide world: Taste. Specifically, why your tastes are so important.

You remember college? Oh, college. College, the land where an unnecessarily common icebreaker is "So, what kind of music do you like to listen to?" One of my very favorite things in the world is to see whether the answerer comes up with a specific genre or replies "Oh, you know, a little of everything", as well as which answer will make the asker scoff in response. Friends of mine who would happily describe themselves as music snobs would scoff at college girls that said "everything", assuming they meant "everything currently playing in this college bar". Friends who were into specific genres of music would turn their noses up at people who said the wrong genre. Occasionally funk nerds would find other funk nerds and then only be capable of communicating with one another for the rest of the night. So it goes.

Me? Here's where it starts to sound really hip and obnoxious, but I think I fall into a sort of weird camp. I generally like just about anything. I'm also generally really boring. When a new Girl Talk album comes out, I probably loop it mindlessly for at least six months. When I drove, I would keep the same CD spinning in my car for easily a year until someone else pointed it out. My home Pandora station is based on "Lovely Day" by Bill Withers. My favorite album in college - in the mid-2000s, mind you - was Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's E. 1999 Eternal. I don't know how to answer the question; most importantly, I really don't care about your answer to the question.

Lest you think I'm trying to turn this into a music blog - which I hope the previous paragraph proves that I shouldn't - I promise I'm getting somewhere. As I was growing out of the phase in my life where I wanted to listen to every kind of music ever so that I could be happy with almost whatever music is on wherever I am (and get a little education along the way, because learning is super fun), I started to transition into the type of person who wanted to know a whole lot about beer. Just as it makes me cringe how much good hip-hop I was missing in the late 90s because I was too busy obsessing over musical theatre, it drives me crazy now to think about the five years I spent in college drinking a whole lot of Miller Lite and Blue Moon in the face of really, really good beer bars.

I'm regularly asked by people who don't know much about beer what the "best" beer is wherever we are. This question is simultaneously endearing and infuriating. There isn't an answer. There are good beers. There are better beers. There are rare beers. That doesn't mean I'm going to recommend a single thing you'll like, unless you tell me what you're into.

The evolution of a beer drinker is always fascinating to me. How did you get here? Some people use the phrase "craft beer epiphany", and I think that's fairly accurate. Here's mine: My freshman year of college, we drank a lot of Blue Moon. You can put fruit in it! Cool! It was our "better beer" to Miller Lite, which cost about $5 for a six pack and was found at every single corner store ever. (Also, I was 18, and people bought my beer for me. Don't judge.) Every once in awhile someone would bring over a fancy six pack of Blue Moon. It was... well, it was different. It didn't taste "like beer", which is to say it doesn't taste much like Miller or Bud or any variation thereof.

Fast forward a little to sophomore year, when I was about to turn twenty years old, and a professor of mine sent us off to spring break with one request: Drink a Paulaner Hefe-Weizen. Pour it into a glass. Look at the gorgeous orange color. Smell it first. Then drink it and come back in two weeks to report your findings. (Professor's name purposely omitted in order to protect smart professors who give advice about booze to 19 year old students.)

So, I did. I drove down to a liquor store, found this weird beer he was talking about, and drank it as instructed. And I'll be damned if it wasn't fantastic. It was like Blue Moon, but it was... better. Would you believe it didn't even need fruit? For the next year of my life, it was all hefeweizen, all the time. This is a pretty common thread among newer beer drinkers - they're not offensive, the more common among them aren't that challenging, they lack the hoppy bitterness that you get from a whole lot of common beers, and they're easy to come across.

Fast forward to living in New York, where I visit my first bar that doesn't have a hefeweizen on tap. I'm instructed that Hoegaarden is pretty similar to a hefeweizen, so I should probably try that. It occurs to me at this point that this sweetness is pretty great. It takes far longer to occur to me that this is an indicator of what Belgian yeast tastes like.

And I hit the ground running. I spent the last part of college back in Ohio, in Bell's country. Oberon (Bell's wheat beer) was easy; Two Hearted was more challenging. Sierra Celebration was too much. Christian Moerlein's 5th & Vine came out and it was my go-to for a summer. It was everything I could find, all the time, with few reservations.

I don't think I would have gotten into craft beer if my professor had recommended picking up a 22 oz. bottle of Double Daddy. I don't think Pliny the Elder could have been my first beer. I don't think a bottle of Bourbon County would have done it either. You have to start somewhere. I drank exclusively sweet white wines until I was pushing 23, and now I want them as bracingly red as possible. Palates are like that - and I swear to you, that's okay.

What is important is to realize that food, wine, beer, even music are all the same. There was a time in my life where I could not stomach mushrooms, IPAs, or bluegrass - it takes time. Your tastes change, and it has far less to do with age than it does with education. You might try a stout and think it's gross, but what if you try thirty stouts? You'll start to notice their nuances. All beers are not created equal. Over time, those nuances start to mean something, but if you have no way to identify what they are, you're going to have a hard time figuring out what you like.

I am awful at talking to mechanics about cars. (There is a laundry list of reasons why I don't drive; this is among them.) When presented with a funny noise coming from anywhere in the car, it could just as easily be a fan belt as low tire pressure. I don't even bother trying to tell a mechanic that it's making a ca-CHUNK-a noise, I just hand over the keys and hope I'm right on whether it's the front or the back of the car. I'm hopeless. But I'm hopeless mostly because I've never really been a driver. I don't know how to work on cars. I bet you, though, if I took the time to understand an internal combustion engine, looked under the hood a few times, and listened to the mechanic when he rattled off what was wrong so that I could correlate it to that specific ca-chunk-a, I'd be able to talk about it more eloquently.

It's so important to keep trying. That's not to say you'll like everything you try, because you probably won't. There are good beers and there are better beers, and maybe the better beers won't even impress you. Just because a beer is popular and you don't like it doesn't mean that you're wrong OR that it's a bad beer; it means there is something about it that doesn't resonate with you. I don't like Guinness or Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, two beers that are commonly distributed and widely accepted. I just don't. It isn't that I don't like stouts or pale ales. It's that as a stout, I find Guinness to be lacking in flavor and consistency and making up with it in a roasty way that I don't care for, and I think Sierra relies too heavily on bittering hops without enough aroma and sweetness to balance it out. That's okay. They're not bad beers. They don't keep me from drinking pale ales or stouts.

This is where the "better beer" comes in. If you're not a beer drinker, you probably can't describe the effect that a specific yeast strain has on a beer, nor what hop character is, or what carbonation level is appropriate for a specific style, or how malty a beer should be. If you're on your journey toward being a beer drinker, all of that comes naturally, and over time you expect to go through phases. For being a person who rarely gravitated toward hops, I went through a very serious IPA phase this year. I probably drank my weight in saison. Last year was for stouts and porters, this year was for hops and floral. I am constantly flirting with Brett. I'll be in the midwest for two weeks very soon, so I expect all sorts of new things to be on my mind once I get back to San Francisco. It's when you start to know the how and why of what makes your beer so enjoyable that the world opens up to you, and when it does, it's unbelievably exciting.

It breaks my heart a little when people don't like beer, because I promise they do. Exceptions to every rule, of course, but it honestly makes me a little sad when someone walks into a beer bar, finds that they don't serve liquor, and walks right back out - or orders a cider because it's what they've learned to drink when their beer-drinking friends want to go to a beer bar. Or orders PBR because everything on the menu is named weird things that they've never heard of and it's easier to do that than ask the bartender what a beer is like. Don't do that. On a packed Saturday night, I might not be able to take you through an hour-long tasting lecture, but I bet if you tell me what kind of liquor you like, I can find you a beer to start with.

My mother is my very favorite person to drink beer with, because she hates it. She loves Bud Light - I come from a family of domestic beer drinkers. She knows how much beer means to me, however, so she always tastes whatever I'm drinking. Of course, she always hates it - but she tries. Good for her. This summer, when we were visiting family out east, they bought a six-pack of Anchor Summer to make me feel a little more at home. I handed my bottle to her and my jaw completely hit the floor when she took a second sip. She drank Anchor Summer all week - it was her first craft beer. When asked to describe why this one, of all beers, was acceptable, her answer? "It tastes like normal beer."

It would be so easy to laugh; to judge. It would also be easy to forget that's exactly how I started - Blue Moon tasted like normal beer, but it was just a little different. Not so different as to go from Miller Lite to something that clocks in at 100 IBU, just different enough to be enjoyable and palatable. Blue Moon to Paulaner to Hoegaarden to Oberon to Two Hearted to everything. What a fun experiment.

I know that this is pretty stream-of-consciousness, and for that I apologize. There's no huge payoff here. It's just so easy to judge other people for their outlook and preferences, and forget that those things come from a place of education, experience or lack of either. I won't link to it here because it irritates me, but if you haven't seen the news clip basically mocking the Rare Goose Island Bourbon County price, you might want to look it up. (Or don't. You won't be a better person for it.) It's awful. Early on, one reporter describes the $45 bottle of beer and suggests to the other to "keep a straight face". The next reporter puts air quotes around "connoisseurs" when he describes who the beer is for. It is at this point that I nearly tried to reach through the computer. John Hall, the president of Goose Island, is then asked if he knows what's happening with the economy, in a hugely reaching attempt to make him feel irresponsible for selling a beer at that price. It's followed by a series of man-on-the-street style interviews with random bar patrons around Chicago paying $3.50 for their beers, and one particularly irate man that suggests if you tried to charge him $45 for a beer that he would tell you to Get The Fuck Out. Later, the first reporter asks if it's kind of Guinness-like.

I have described it well. You don't have to watch it.

It's infuriating, you know? 22 oz. (the size of the Bourbon County bottle) is about 650 mL, slightly smaller than a standard wine bottle, which is 750 mL. Doing some really basic math, let's say that a 750 mL bottle of Bourbon County would run $52. Are news commentators getting up in arms about $60 bottles of wine? No? Are they going into dive bars and asking people how they'd feel if they ordered a glass of wine and were told it was $75? Oh, that didn't run either? Because that's currently the price for the most expensive glass at Charlie Trotter's, one of the most well-known restaurants in Chicago. How about $8,750 for a bottle at the same restaurant? Perhaps a rare bottle of beer isn't quite the same as a 15 year old bottle of fine champagne, but you get my point.

It's time to start educating. It's time to be educated, if you want it. It's at least time to stop judging. I just don't believe in beer snobbery. You can drink your PBR if you want, but you should try something every once in awhile. I'm really glad I started listening to bluegrass. I'm really excited that my mom found a craft beer she likes. And even if it gets its very own four minute segment on a local news affiliate making fun of how irresponsible it is, I'm over the moon that Goose Island cares enough about their product to bother making a bottle that can command a $45 price point, economy or no economy.

Grab a beer, even if it's one you don't like, and figure out what you do and don't like about it. Go from there. I bet you'll learn something, and you might even end up happy. Apologies again for the lack of structure. I'll be drinking a blueberry fruit beer and seeing if I can open my eyes a little.