A label for a tiger

The bullet is bit: that tiger-brew I've been bragging about has finally got a name, and a label to go with it.
Thanks to the lovely Kazuyo-sana, my ham-fisted attempts at making this beer sound Japanese have come to fruition, and I hereby declare its name to be Kohaku.

Not sure about the left-hand thingies are, but Google agrees that these are kanji for Kohaku

Kohaku means (among other things) "amber", and the kanji themselves mean "tiger" and "Belgium". So, with Nihonnese poetics applies, this would come to mean something along the lines of "amber tiger from Belgium", which is aptly fitting.

Invoking my legendary Photoshop skills resulted in the following end product:

Left to right: Kohacu classic and Kohaku kiai

Counting down to the Kagami Biraki. So far, reactions have been positive, with the little kiai scoring surprisingly well. Curious what my sparring buddies will think of this...

Until then,

Greetz

Jo

Beer Geek Night: Gardez-vous!

Loving beer is hard work, and much of it involves long and tiring hours of sampling shady beers in the company of friends and fellow beergeeks.

With some trepidation we undertook the first what is to become a captilised Grand Tradition: a gathering of geeks, in the pursuit of a greater understanding of beer and all it entails. This first grand occasion we stepped way out of our comfort zone and took on three French beers.

Parce-que oui nide iou.

Only marginally generalised, we Belgians consider French beer to be about as drinkable as Dutch beer.
However, turns out there are regions in France which are actually quite renowned for their beers. Not entirely surprisingly, these regions happen to be so close to present-day Belgium that they were once part of historical Flanders.

Bière de Garde is a somewhat amorphously banded style of beer farmhouse ales, relatively quite heavy in terms of alcohol, and centered around a sweet malt base. I'd heard of the style before but it wasn't until I was in France last summer, desperately browsing the stores and supermarkets in search of anything that wasn't either Kronenbourg 1664, Pelforth Brune or the ubiquitous Leffe.
Lo and behold, this is what I found:

...in a stylish 50cl boozehead can.

Surprisingly, I kinda liked this one, and more extensive searching brought up a number of other beers of similar ilk, which the assembled Beer Geeks sat down to sample. All three came in stylish 75cl bottles with a champagne cork; a touch of flair I find quite appealing.

Jenlain then, being the benchmark as far as present-day Bières de Garde are concerned, is an amber beer, surprisingly delicate despite the heavy sweetness of the malty base. My memories of this beer turned out to be somewhat mellowed by long-distant summer days sur l'herbe, as I quickly grew tired of the monocline sweetness. A beer which needs chilling, and my cellar doesn't have enough power to make this beer really stand out. The assembled Beer Geeks were in agreement: this is not bad, but the Pride of Belgium is under no great threat. Pity, because I really wanted this one to put France on the beer map. Note that the canned beer and the more stylishly presented bottles are the same beer.

Next up was Grain d'Orge from the eponymous Brassier Grain d'Orge, another name of renown where Bières de Gardes are concerned.

"Malt kernel" is as fitting a name as any.

Lighter in colour and leaning towards dark blonde, I found this one to be less balanced and subtle than the Jenlain. Again, by no means a bad beer at all, but decidedly underwhelming, and after the Jenlain, the Grain d'Orge didn't stand a chance.

The last of my summer-stash was the 3 Monts, brewed by the almost-Belgian St-Sylvestre.

Note to Self: find out which three mountains.

Technically this is not a Bière de Garde, albeit only because the label doesn't claim it is one. Bières de Gardes aren't easily classifiable, but generally speaking, this one could be reckoned to be one of them. From my own point of view, I'd categorise it as a very unimpressing tripel-style beer, only with a distinctive absence of spices. What remains is a bit of a musty affair, just on the wrong side of the middle of the road.

The B side then. 

As a beer, it's a fine case in the study of tripels, which, when shorn of their curucao peels and coriander notes, become lackluster and a bit bland. As much as I'd wanted to give this nicely packaged bottle a chance, I found it to be dull and slightly unpleasant.

As a genre, if these three examples are anywhere near representative, Bières de Garde are not for everyone. I daresay that the experienced beer afficionado will find them lacking in imagination, and overly focused on sweet malts, and the heavy aromas thereof. Combined with the relatively high ABV (we're talking 8% ABV on average here), these aren't the thirst-quenchers I'd expect a farmhouse ale to be.

To finish the evening on a more uplifting note, we popped a bottle of La Chouffe. Since this is neither a tripel, nor a farmhouse ale, and in fact a little bit of both, it seemed fitting, if not entirely fair: the Ardennian gnome stood out in every aspect, and we didn't really need to read the label to recognise the impartance of spices in beers of this ilk. Anything over 7% ABV needs something, be it yeast, hops, spices or specialty agressive sppecialty malts to offset the stickiness of the heavy wort, and the booziness of the alcohol, and as far as I'm concerned, Bières de Garde fall short of the drinkable mark because of a lack of rounded flavour.

While this was never really a contest between France and Belgium, I  can see how France got the  reputation most Belgians still credit it with. Just across the border from two of the breweries mentioned is Saison territory, and the other one lies just a cork's throw Flanders proper. The beers however, could hardly be more drastivally different.

Beer Geek Night will continue with another headlight sometime next year.

Until then,

Greetz

Jo

The tiger stirs

Booyakasha!

Witness! Observe! Marvel! Jubilate! High fives all around! That ridiculous gangnam style dance!

Is that a beer or is that a beer?

One week of warm storage and this little tiger is already starting to show its teeth. Not only does it go PSHT when you uncap it, it also has a nice smooth carbonation and a decent head.

It's even somewhat transparent, if not entirely vertical

A hoppy, fruity nose, bold without being too ballsy, and a dry, bittersweet finish. Oh yes, this is everything I hoped it would be and more: it's got better head retention than most commercial beers I've poured recently (and trust me, they are legion). A bit harsh and resiny still in the hops department, but that's normal with a beer this young.

I'm all jumpy boinboinboingboing now; can't wait to share this with the lads and ladettes at the dojo. Now off to the basement with this batch, for another month of mellowing out. By the time the Kagami Biraki gets on its way, they should be utterly drinkable.

Next stop: designing a spiiffy label.

Until then!

Greetz

Jo

Bottled tiger

Despite rumors to the contrary, the Chinese don't actually bottle cute kittens for sheer spitefulness.

Because the Party demands it!

I, on the other hand, have been bottling my budding little tiger called Torakun. It's been a blast, between helping the kids with their homework, forgetting not to go to karate practice because of ongoing examinations at the dojo, and cleaning the cats' litter boxes (hmmmm...that picture up there is becoming mighty alluring right now) and trying to restore the semblance of order to our otherwise spotless domicile.
The end result is two cases of beer. One is a green-capped case of Torakun Regular (Japanese translation forthcoming), in sturdy 33cl bottles, because a sweaty karateka needs rehydration in hefty doses. The other is a case of white-capped Torakun-with-extra-Kiai, because kicking is better when accompanied by a bit of screaming.

Up into the Hot Room for a week or so, and fingers crossed for carbonation.

Intermediary samples were very promising, and I'm especially looking forward to the Kiai version, which definitely had a bit more punch then my 500ml test sample.

In a week or two, both should be drinkable, which means I've got about another month or so to come up with a spiffy label, for a properly celebrated Kagami biraki.

Until then (probably sooner, no worries),

Greetz

Jo

How's the beer, you say?

A long overdue status update on my brews then.

Red&BruCap isn't doing very well. After some weeks in warm storage, followed by two more in cold, the beer still refuses to carbonate. And while I think it's tasty, I never intended it to be served flat.

Just so.

My guess is that the estimated 11% ABV is just too much for the Moinette yeast to handle. Graphically speaking, the yeast has pee-ed itself to death.

That picture in your mind should be graphic enough already.

I'm going to try and be patient with this one, emploing various tricks of the trade to get this secondary fermentation thing on a roll. If temperature control, turning the bottles upside down and playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik don't work, I'll need to manually reopen every bottle, add some sturdy yeast, and recap'em.

But I'm still filled with hope about this one.

No not that one.

Torakun, my little dojo tiger, is doing well. I siphoned the beer off the yeast sediment after a good week of lagering, and then put it back in the celler, with some added Pacific Jade hops for dry-hopping. Lab tests run during the first week of lagering were optimistic: the hop is robustly present, and the Munich malt gives the beer a certain toothiness which is fitting for a wee tiger. One carboy will become the KIAI version, with a secret ingredient added for extra punch.

Sometime this week, it'll be bottling time again, and Bob, you better make sure this tiger doesn't become another sick puppy.

Until then!

Greetz

Jo

Haver & Gort (de Molen)

When the cap of your bottle of beer is sealed with a layer of thick black wax, then you know you're holding a bit a cellar beast. If said beast comes with this spiffy typical de Molen label, anticipation soars through the rooftop.

Pic not actually mine since camera AWOL.

De Molen use semi-funny, ampersand-empowered names for their beers, and this one is no exception. Haver&Gort translates quite literally to "Oats&Grits", which makes sense when you read the label. As usual, you're left in the dark as to exactly what kind of "Extra strong beer" this will be, but I was informed by those in the know: this is an (Russian) Imperial Stout.

Which means "Pimped Up Kickass Stout Extreme To The Max" for the uninitiated

It pours like syrup; a thick, almost gloopy, pitch black monster of a brew, topped with a surprisingly lively tan head, which settles to a creamy froth. Oh my, what a sight.

In the nose, you get an explosive richness which I've come to expect from the Molen's heavy stouts. You get some coffee, a bit of chocolate, and lots and lots of dark dried fruits. Figs and apricots, mostly, overlayed with a boozy, almost peaty maltiness. There's something vastly intriguing about the nose of this one, an intangible whiff of smoky heat, like the residual smell of a woodstove on winter mornings. Just a smidgeon of grainy, cerealy, oatmealy suaveness too.
I've no idea just what kind of barrel the Haver&Gort was aged in, but I'm guessing it's whisky. Never fear: the oak is there, and just a hint of peat, but it's never the main feature.

The mouthfeel is perversely sensual: silken, smooth and full bodied like a wanton maiden. Low carbonation, which is just what I expect from a 12.5% ABV stout, and the booziness just adds to the sensuality of the mouthfeel. A truly sensational sip.
Aroma-wise, there's layers and layers and more layers still, of peat and smoke, and coffee and the aforementioned figs, with that gentle, but pervasive undercurrent of oats and black fruits. With the aroma comes the realisation that part of the intangibility I mentioned earlier is caused by clever little winks to that other heavy beer style, the barley wine (recently dubbed Quadruple by beergeeks and commercial scumbags alike): a heavy, dense impression of very complex maltiness.

It's mainly a bitter beer, caused by the presence of a number of roasted and smoked barley malts, and the presence of hops is hardly noticable, if at all. A high gravity yields a sweetness which, combined with the incredible mouthfeel, perfectly complements the bitterness and makes this a treat unlike any other.

While this is a great beer, it's not quite the beast I anticipated. In fact, it is a stunning exercise in the balance of extremes, resulting in a peaceful, yet powerful equilibrium of bitter and sweet, of bold and temperate, of guts and glory.

A word of advice: stock up on a couple of bottles of this brew. Store them safely in your cellar, and then forget about them. Or pretend you can. After a couple of months, give in temptation, and on a quiet evening, taste just one. Take your time. Steal the moment.

Then, for the next twenty five years, remember to forget those other bottles. They really are that good.

Greetz

Jo

PS: oh, you were wondering about my brews? I'll tell you more about those in just a few more days.

Birth of a Tiger

No karate training today, so I'm using this lazy Sunday to do some more brewing.
With the kagami biraki drawing nearer each day, I'm preparing a little something for all those charming people that kick my ass two nights a week (and Sunday mornings too if they're not having an examination).

Kagami biraki means the opening a barrel of sake which sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than visiting Gran and Gramps for the holiday season

So, a new brew for a new year (brewers need to plan ahead by at least a month or two). Since I want to reduce the risk of the dojo becoming known as The House of Inebriation I decided to brew a light beer (pilsner or lower in terms of ABV) but with a bit of punch, preferrably with something other than its name hinting at distant Japan.

I really wanted to use a Japanese hop (there's currently only one kown to Westen Civilisation) but I couldn't find it in time. Instead, I settled for a New Zealand hop which is supposed to imbue my brew with lemon-and-peppercorn aromas. Sounds like a treat already.

Imbue by brew, babies!

I might contemplate adding some more mysteries of the Orient at various stages but that will depend on how adventurous I'm feeling by then.

For the Constant Reader curious about the state of my Red-&BruCap beer...expect an update soon but for the moment, suffice to say that it taste pretty damn great. If only the yeast would consider waking up again to carbinate my beer...

Until then!

Greetz

Jo

PS: "Tiger? Where?" I hear you say. While the name is still a work in progress, I'm calling this li'l buddy Torakun, meaning "Little Tiger".