I’m unsure if I’m intrigued.

In my hand—and my beer—is a sampling of fresh Chinook hops. 

We received an overnight shipment from upstate New York at the brewery today and are all set to brew a wet hop beer with the little suckers tomorrow. 

This is my first time being in contact with wet/fresh hops and the aromas are crazy!  While our cooler normally smells pretty hoppy, as soon as I opened the door I was pummeled with a intense and grassy bitter aroma from the giant sack of hops waiting to be put to use tomorrow. 

Also, after letting a cone saturate in a glass of our IPA for a few minutes I squeezed out the bud and was treated to a wonderfully aromatic and edgy bite.  If a smattering of fresh cones is this tasty, I’m highly anticipating brewing with 50-plus pounds of the stuff tomorrow. 

Brew School.

Some more knowledge for you.

It’s been six months since I started my whiskey project in February and I took the opportunity to taste the experiment this morning.

I meticulously took tasting notes over the first three months but have not taken a sample since April.  My reasoning was that after the booze was sloshing around in its barrel in the back of a U-Haul over the course of a cross country drive, I would let the liquor sit undisturbed for a bit.  Although I can’t say that the moonshine is amazing, it has been fascinating seeing how much flavor barrel aging can impart on a liquid.

Before I poured two liters of white dog whiskey into my miniature barrel, I tasted it.  Rum-like, sweet and fruity were the flavors that came to mind.  This morning, my whiskey poured a dark amber and besides the remnants floating in my glass, it looked like a legitimate whiskey!

After taking a soft sniff the smell was pleasant.  However, after taking a big whiff my nostrils were blown away by a sharp alcohol nose and a strong, stinging bite.  The taste has mellowed a touch, but it is still a sweet fire.  It’s slightly fruity at first—a throw back to the apple-notes in the original white dog whiskey—but the lingering burn hits woody, smokier notes.

I haven’t gone blind yet, so perhaps this will be the start of my moonshinin’ career?

“Miller Lite is a perfect beer for people who don’t like beer but need to justify their presence at bars by having a drink in their hand.”

Ouch.  Harsh words from an article in Vol. 26, No. 3 of American Brewer Magazine by beer writer Greg Kitsock.  While I won’t admit I disagree with his statement, I will say that Kitsock’s article about the rise of light—and remember, it’s with a T-E—is extremely interesting.

A few facts culled from the piece:

• 53% of U.S. beer sales are light beer.
• 5 years after Miller introduced Miller Lite, their annual production went from 7-million barrels to 31-million barrels.  That’s an increase of 48-million kegs a year!
• In 1972 Miller Brewing Co. bought the rights to Meister Brau Lite, the second Lite beer released into the US market.  This beer eventually became Miller Lite after then president of Miller, John Murphy, took a trip to Germany and stumbled upon…
• Diät Pils!  Miller Lite was inspired by Diät Pils, a German style brew intended for diabetics.  Murphy thought the process used to eliminate residual sugars (hence, less calories) would appeal to jog happy and weight conscious Americans.

And on a final, slightly happier note:

• In 1989, Budweiser owned 25% of the American market share.  In 2010, it has 9.3%.