Where would we be without friends?
Specifically, where would we be without friends who know our quirks and oddities, and gladly play enabler to our boundless fascination with all things beer?
A couple of weeks ago, the Missus, the Kidz and myself hooked up with Marloes, Martijn & Mats(*) (or M3 as we like to call them, for somewhat obvious shorthand reasons) at the MAS in Antwerp, where gifts were exchanged in the form of books, candy and beer.
*) You'll note that Mats isn't officially a member of Satinoxide, even though he was physically present during the conception of Still the Sun. Marvels of Metal and all that.
I had recently voiced my anticipation regarding Emelisse's impressive arsenal of someday(*) beers. Hence, greatly did I rejoice when I was ceremoniously handed a clip holding no less than four different brews.
*) as opposed to everyday beers.
Emelisse is an upcoming (although not really new) Dutch brewery, known for their bold and appproachable takes on styles typical of craft brewing. Instead of taking the easy way out and brewing yet another version of the Holy Trinity, they brew relatively big, yet accessible beers.
In order of sampling, here come the contents of the 4-pack then.
Rauchbier
Seriously. It takes a whole lot of guts to launch a smoked beer, even in current climes.
Once you're up to your neck in the craft brew scene, it's easy to overlook this fact, but most people I know like (and in fact prefer) simple beers. Beers well within the comfort zones established by fifty-odd years of declining beer culture. Smoked beers are definitely way out of that comfort zone, and Emelisse presents theirs boldly, in-your-face and utterly bullshit free. I love that bottle, the effortlessly slick label and the no-nonsense, here's-what-it-is name. Zeelandians (Zeelanders? Zeelandegasks?) are a direct lot, and this beer's presentation couldn't be more Zeelandian if it had winkles in it.
The Rauchbier opens quite enthusiastically. Not quite a gusher, but best keep that glass close and hover over the sink, just in case. Pours a beautiful dark amber, close to chestnut brown with a firm, robust head.
While it's called a rauchbier, don't expect ashtrays ,chimneys or hot tarmac in the nose: this beer smells like smoked meats. In fact, the Missus declared it smelled "as if someone's dunked a salami in your beer". It smells chewy and a bit greasy, yes, just like a sausage.
I know, that doesn't sound quite as appealing as it is, but a good smoked beer really is a bit like meat and beer in one serving, only in a good way. And this Rauchbier is a good example of the style: mildly but noticably smoked, and very accessible without being easy. Besides meaty smoke, the nose reveals slight impressions of caramel and a wee smidgeon of resiny hops.
Flavour is precisely what the nose promises, with a sweet, almost cloying malt base, and a good mouthfull of meaty, almost acrid smoke. While smoked malt itself isn't bitter at all, the smoke gives the beer an impression of bitterness.
A well-crafted beer, in a non-quotidian style. Kudos to the brew crew, and we've still got three more bottles to go.
DIPA
A Double IPA then. Less uncommon than the Rauchbier, but still nowhere near as common as, well, common beer. Ever since the Murkans shook the slumbering world of beer awake, IPAs in varying strengths and multiples have been swarming the market, but unfortunately, Europe is still trying to catch up with this style. Apart from Chouffe Houblon and Troubadour Magma, DIPAs are few and far between for the unconnected beer geek.
First off: IPAs are typically bold, hoppy beers, usually with a firm, sweetly malty backbone to complement a pronounced hoppy bitterness. "Double" would mean the same as in any other style, hinting at a heavier malt dosage. Probably not really "twice the amount of a single" but definitely more than just "a heavier single".
Emelisse's take on the style is a bit meek, surprisingly. No mistake: this is a Double IPA, chock-full of malt and oozing hoppiness, but it's surprisingly easy. While the hops are prominently on display, they're not really going anywhere in particular. No tropical fruits, no particular citrus notes, just hops doing a generic hop buzz thing.
Most DIPAs (and quite a few IPAs) I've encountered seem to tell a hoppy story, leading the drinker by the nose with alluring, titillating swirls of enticing hops. Emelisse's DIPA, while tasty and skillfully brewed, is less imaginatve, more straightforward, and ultimately, not very interesting. Perhaps this is batch-related, as it would seem the brewery uses different hops in different batches. Pity that's not described on the label.
This second sample of Emelisse's staple beers reveals a trend which will continue throughout the 4-pack: this is a base beer. More on that later, now onward to beer #3.
BIPA
How can I not love a brewery whose introduction kit contains nothing but daring beer styles? A Black IPA is a beer designed to arouse beer geeks the world over. Think of it as a hybrid beer, a mix between a roasty porter and a hoppy IPA. BIPAs are quite rare in Continental Europe, so rare in fact as to be virtually non-existent. But here is one, coming from not half an hour's drive from my own doorstep, in a country which most of my fellow-Belgians consider to be the zythological counterpart of Outer Syberia.
The BIPA pours just like it should: dark, voluptuous, nearly-black and slightly oozy. A bold nose of hops (not dissimilar to the DIPA), complemented with a firm roasty backdrop. The best of two worlds, as the style dictates, and effortlessly pulled off again. The trend, however, persists: this BIPA too feels like a base beer, which could be so much more than what it is right now.
Number four then, and it's a biggun:
RIS (sorry: IRS)
The Russian Imperial Stout is to beer geeks what K1 is to alpinists.
It's the big league.
Valhalla, the Graspop Backstage Area and the Playboy Mansion, all rolled up into one and magically turned into beer.
Everything that's big in a stout, multiplied and pimped to often ridiculous extremes. RIS is a not a style for the faint of heart, and in a country which most of the world identifies with bland lager carelessly poured into thimble-sized glassed from lurid green bottles, it is positively daring to include one in your staple range. Again, it exemplifies what Emelisse is trying to accomplish: quality beer which is neither boring nor safe.
The RIS pours oily and viscous, as it should. It's quite still, even for a Imperial, but still manages to establish a hesitant head. The nose is spectacular: a discreetly boozy bomb of coffee, roast grains, heavy late summer blossoms and a distant hint of bittering hops. A beer you can sniff all night long.
In the mouth, the RIS releases those same flavours, focusing slightly more on the booze than strictly necessary. Luscious mouthfeel, lingering acridity and a long, slow release of deep dark roasted malts. A tad astringent near the finish, but yet another effortlessly successful beer.
But there's the snag: effortlessly.
It feels as if Emelisse, while being bold and daring in their choice of styles, aren't putting in much of an effort to really make them shine. Understandable, perhaps: the brewery has definitely got an eye for the commercial aspects of brewing (hey, it's a living, so money needs to be made, I totally dig that), so pulling out all the stops in their main range of beers, while tempting, would be commercial suicide at this time.
Instead of that, you get four beers stting somewhat safely within the confines of their respective genre. While the genres are decidedly ballsy, the beers themselves stand out mostly because of their restraint, and come across as subdued, tamed examples. Introductions, if you will. Text-book standards almost.
All four beers are solid, yet bridled examples of their own different style. All four styles are peculiar, interesting, and decidedly uncommon in terms commercial availability. Yet all four beers feel, in their essence, like base beers. Base recipes, which really could use a bit of something special. Starting points from where they could be ramped up, explored and exploited. They need a bit of brewer's attention, uplifting this element or that, thereby elevating the beer from its base version into something more illustrative of its true potential.
In fact, Emelisse has a more limited range of white label beers going around which are precisely that: pimped versions of the base beers. I previously, and to roaring approval, tasted a white label version of the RIS, enriched with Sorachi Ace hops and (no kidding) coconut. I cannot begin to describe how vastly enjoyable and superior it was to the base RIS. I've heard reports from other beer aficionados (with varying levels of geekiness) with similar experiences, all across their range of beers.
So, I'm between two chairs here. On one hand, Emelisse has all my sympathy, and I call myself a fan. A brewery which focuses on non-boring beer styles, flawlessly executed and tastefully presented, how could I not?
But on the other hand, their base range of beers is a bit on the safe side, and their full potential seems to be restricted to (or deliberatelt reserved for) their White Label range. While far from boring, these four beers don't quite reach the expected potential inherent to their specific genres.
I realise that's mostly my Inner Geek complaining here. A beer geek who's been spoiled already by some pretty radical brews coming from two continents away. Whatever may irk me about the lack of balls in the beers themselves should be interpreted as nitpicking from one who's accustomed to encountering these four styles, if at all, with all the stops pulled. To the more easy going beer amateur, these truly are exceptional brews, worthy of any detours necessary to acquire them.
So don't let this note of criticism refrain you from embracing this brewery. They're a beacon of hope in current day beer culture.
My eternal gratitude to M3! How'bout we visit the brewery together someday?
Greetz
Jo
Specifically, where would we be without friends who know our quirks and oddities, and gladly play enabler to our boundless fascination with all things beer?
A couple of weeks ago, the Missus, the Kidz and myself hooked up with Marloes, Martijn & Mats(*) (or M3 as we like to call them, for somewhat obvious shorthand reasons) at the MAS in Antwerp, where gifts were exchanged in the form of books, candy and beer.
*) You'll note that Mats isn't officially a member of Satinoxide, even though he was physically present during the conception of Still the Sun. Marvels of Metal and all that.
I had recently voiced my anticipation regarding Emelisse's impressive arsenal of someday(*) beers. Hence, greatly did I rejoice when I was ceremoniously handed a clip holding no less than four different brews.
*) as opposed to everyday beers.
Emelisse is an upcoming (although not really new) Dutch brewery, known for their bold and appproachable takes on styles typical of craft brewing. Instead of taking the easy way out and brewing yet another version of the Holy Trinity, they brew relatively big, yet accessible beers.
In order of sampling, here come the contents of the 4-pack then.
Rauchbier
 |
| Only one of these in the 4-pack. |
Seriously. It takes a whole lot of guts to launch a smoked beer, even in current climes.
Once you're up to your neck in the craft brew scene, it's easy to overlook this fact, but most people I know like (and in fact prefer) simple beers. Beers well within the comfort zones established by fifty-odd years of declining beer culture. Smoked beers are definitely way out of that comfort zone, and Emelisse presents theirs boldly, in-your-face and utterly bullshit free. I love that bottle, the effortlessly slick label and the no-nonsense, here's-what-it-is name. Zeelandians (Zeelanders? Zeelandegasks?) are a direct lot, and this beer's presentation couldn't be more Zeelandian if it had winkles in it.
 |
| Winkle beer. I'm not sure about that. |
While it's called a rauchbier, don't expect ashtrays ,chimneys or hot tarmac in the nose: this beer smells like smoked meats. In fact, the Missus declared it smelled "as if someone's dunked a salami in your beer". It smells chewy and a bit greasy, yes, just like a sausage.
Bière aux saucissons, plutôt.
I know, that doesn't sound quite as appealing as it is, but a good smoked beer really is a bit like meat and beer in one serving, only in a good way. And this Rauchbier is a good example of the style: mildly but noticably smoked, and very accessible without being easy. Besides meaty smoke, the nose reveals slight impressions of caramel and a wee smidgeon of resiny hops.
Flavour is precisely what the nose promises, with a sweet, almost cloying malt base, and a good mouthfull of meaty, almost acrid smoke. While smoked malt itself isn't bitter at all, the smoke gives the beer an impression of bitterness.
A well-crafted beer, in a non-quotidian style. Kudos to the brew crew, and we've still got three more bottles to go.
DIPA
That bottle on the left looks just like mine.
A Double IPA then. Less uncommon than the Rauchbier, but still nowhere near as common as, well, common beer. Ever since the Murkans shook the slumbering world of beer awake, IPAs in varying strengths and multiples have been swarming the market, but unfortunately, Europe is still trying to catch up with this style. Apart from Chouffe Houblon and Troubadour Magma, DIPAs are few and far between for the unconnected beer geek.
First off: IPAs are typically bold, hoppy beers, usually with a firm, sweetly malty backbone to complement a pronounced hoppy bitterness. "Double" would mean the same as in any other style, hinting at a heavier malt dosage. Probably not really "twice the amount of a single" but definitely more than just "a heavier single".
Emelisse's take on the style is a bit meek, surprisingly. No mistake: this is a Double IPA, chock-full of malt and oozing hoppiness, but it's surprisingly easy. While the hops are prominently on display, they're not really going anywhere in particular. No tropical fruits, no particular citrus notes, just hops doing a generic hop buzz thing.
Most DIPAs (and quite a few IPAs) I've encountered seem to tell a hoppy story, leading the drinker by the nose with alluring, titillating swirls of enticing hops. Emelisse's DIPA, while tasty and skillfully brewed, is less imaginatve, more straightforward, and ultimately, not very interesting. Perhaps this is batch-related, as it would seem the brewery uses different hops in different batches. Pity that's not described on the label.
This second sample of Emelisse's staple beers reveals a trend which will continue throughout the 4-pack: this is a base beer. More on that later, now onward to beer #3.
BIPA
Three beers in and I'm seeing quads already instead of IPAs.
Beer geek humour; pay no mind.
How can I not love a brewery whose introduction kit contains nothing but daring beer styles? A Black IPA is a beer designed to arouse beer geeks the world over. Think of it as a hybrid beer, a mix between a roasty porter and a hoppy IPA. BIPAs are quite rare in Continental Europe, so rare in fact as to be virtually non-existent. But here is one, coming from not half an hour's drive from my own doorstep, in a country which most of my fellow-Belgians consider to be the zythological counterpart of Outer Syberia.
The BIPA pours just like it should: dark, voluptuous, nearly-black and slightly oozy. A bold nose of hops (not dissimilar to the DIPA), complemented with a firm roasty backdrop. The best of two worlds, as the style dictates, and effortlessly pulled off again. The trend, however, persists: this BIPA too feels like a base beer, which could be so much more than what it is right now.
Number four then, and it's a biggun:
RIS (sorry: IRS)
Death and taxes.
Sorry. Beer Geek humour again.
The Russian Imperial Stout is to beer geeks what K1 is to alpinists.
It's the big league.
Valhalla, the Graspop Backstage Area and the Playboy Mansion, all rolled up into one and magically turned into beer.
Everything that's big in a stout, multiplied and pimped to often ridiculous extremes. RIS is a not a style for the faint of heart, and in a country which most of the world identifies with bland lager carelessly poured into thimble-sized glassed from lurid green bottles, it is positively daring to include one in your staple range. Again, it exemplifies what Emelisse is trying to accomplish: quality beer which is neither boring nor safe.
The RIS pours oily and viscous, as it should. It's quite still, even for a Imperial, but still manages to establish a hesitant head. The nose is spectacular: a discreetly boozy bomb of coffee, roast grains, heavy late summer blossoms and a distant hint of bittering hops. A beer you can sniff all night long.
In the mouth, the RIS releases those same flavours, focusing slightly more on the booze than strictly necessary. Luscious mouthfeel, lingering acridity and a long, slow release of deep dark roasted malts. A tad astringent near the finish, but yet another effortlessly successful beer.
But there's the snag: effortlessly.
It feels as if Emelisse, while being bold and daring in their choice of styles, aren't putting in much of an effort to really make them shine. Understandable, perhaps: the brewery has definitely got an eye for the commercial aspects of brewing (hey, it's a living, so money needs to be made, I totally dig that), so pulling out all the stops in their main range of beers, while tempting, would be commercial suicide at this time.
Instead of that, you get four beers stting somewhat safely within the confines of their respective genre. While the genres are decidedly ballsy, the beers themselves stand out mostly because of their restraint, and come across as subdued, tamed examples. Introductions, if you will. Text-book standards almost.
All four beers are solid, yet bridled examples of their own different style. All four styles are peculiar, interesting, and decidedly uncommon in terms commercial availability. Yet all four beers feel, in their essence, like base beers. Base recipes, which really could use a bit of something special. Starting points from where they could be ramped up, explored and exploited. They need a bit of brewer's attention, uplifting this element or that, thereby elevating the beer from its base version into something more illustrative of its true potential.
In fact, Emelisse has a more limited range of white label beers going around which are precisely that: pimped versions of the base beers. I previously, and to roaring approval, tasted a white label version of the RIS, enriched with Sorachi Ace hops and (no kidding) coconut. I cannot begin to describe how vastly enjoyable and superior it was to the base RIS. I've heard reports from other beer aficionados (with varying levels of geekiness) with similar experiences, all across their range of beers.
So, I'm between two chairs here. On one hand, Emelisse has all my sympathy, and I call myself a fan. A brewery which focuses on non-boring beer styles, flawlessly executed and tastefully presented, how could I not?
But on the other hand, their base range of beers is a bit on the safe side, and their full potential seems to be restricted to (or deliberatelt reserved for) their White Label range. While far from boring, these four beers don't quite reach the expected potential inherent to their specific genres.
I realise that's mostly my Inner Geek complaining here. A beer geek who's been spoiled already by some pretty radical brews coming from two continents away. Whatever may irk me about the lack of balls in the beers themselves should be interpreted as nitpicking from one who's accustomed to encountering these four styles, if at all, with all the stops pulled. To the more easy going beer amateur, these truly are exceptional brews, worthy of any detours necessary to acquire them.
So don't let this note of criticism refrain you from embracing this brewery. They're a beacon of hope in current day beer culture.
My eternal gratitude to M3! How'bout we visit the brewery together someday?
Greetz
Jo
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten