Brief notes:![Detail of Google Map for Cyangugu, Rwanda, featuring Whatsapp Risizi River View Bar. [7 April 2018]](https://bdhilling.files.wordpress.com/2018/04/googlemap-20180407-whatsapprisiziriverfrontbar-detail-bw.png?w=200&h=250)
• Some setups are long enough to defeat the purpose, like, why one might even be thinking about some remote corner of the world in any given moment. Nonetheless . . .
• . . . I do find remarkable—and thus do remark upon—the fact that I might be able to recite the phrase, “Whatsapp Risizi River View Bar”, because, apparently, such a thing really does exist, and it really is in Cyangugu, Rwanda.
Yet another holiday ruined.
In truth, there aren’t many holidays I enjoy celebrating with the rest of my society. I’m an American. Look at our big days. A couple of Christian days, three celebrations of genocide, and two borrowed cultural traditions we’ve managed to muck up into unrecognizable bacchinalia. St. Patrick’s Day is one of the latter.
I don’t mind the twist. I even look past the genocidal heritage, since we Americans don’t really care about all that and have our own chapters of morbid insanity to celebrate. St. Patty’s is a primarily a drinking holiday, like New Year’s Eve, MLK Day, and Cinco de Mayo.
And no, that wasn’t a joke about MLK Day.
Sorry. I wish it was.
There is a saying about a given band or musical sound: I’m not into it, but I wouldn’t change the station. There are, of course, sexist versions of it: Well, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed …. At any rate, we all know the joke, right? Somewhere in there we find Sierra Nevada Ruthless Rye.
“Rustic grains,” the brewery claims, “refined flavor, ruthless character”. The capsule summary is even better:
Rugged and resilient, rye has been a staple grain for ages and its spicy black pepper-like flavor has been prized by distillers and brewers for centuries. Rye thrives in the harshest conditions and comes to life in Ruthless, a spicy and rugged IPA with fruity, citrus and herbal hop notes balanced with the dry spiciness of the rye, making the beer aggressive yet comforting to bolster against whatever the winter winds may bring.
At 6.6% ABV and 58 IBU, Ruthless is a properly nondescript beer. If we ever need to know about the subjectivity of beer ratings, consider that the seasonal IPA is presently carrying a 97 at RateBeer, but only an 87 at BeerAdvocate. Both these ratings are excessive.
It occurs to me that beer ratings are largely arbitrary. To the one, no, I’m not talking about Platos, ABV, SRM, IBU, or anything like that. But, rather, to consider the beer scores: A sour beer can score in the 90s for Category Seventeen, but it’s still a sour beer. As a hophead, my score for beers is much different, focusing on various ales—namely IPAs—than we might find in a fan of the hints of coriander and what counts for citrus in a Belgian. And no, I cannot explain the lager phenomenon.
Despite learning a horrifying phrase at the end of the first paragraph, which I shan’t repeat here but consider yourself warned, it is, indeed, good to have a reminder that today is National American Beer Day.
Who knew? Well, obviously … er … um … never mind.
Right. Drink up, dreamers. And, yes, I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to call bullshit on the infographic.
And then try some more rousing beer-related trivia and suggestions, including bathing in the stuff, apparently, but I don’t care what anyone says—letting beer go flat so you can wash your hair with it is a sin.
Anyway, yeah. Happy National American Beer Day. Cheers.
Oh, right. The Unfortunately Requisite Disclaimer: Drink safely. Be well.
____________________
P.S. — I would tell you to hug your favorite brewer, but, sorry, Dave, I’m not driving out for that. You know. Don’t drink and drive, and all that. And, well, it’s a football day. You know how it goes ….
A note to Dave:
No, seriously, dude, chin up. Or something. Okay, I don’t know. But at least you’re not Mendocino, who are taking a hit because a small brewery in their association is getting too successful.
No, really, man, I got no clue. How’s your slow-cooker technique going?
Good beer, a good sandwich, a good soup or stew to go with … you know … like Sammy Hagar said, that’s … what … dreams … are made of …!
Okay, yeah, that sucked.
But, you know, come on, dude. Madera Verde beer and chili? Put Auburn on the map.
It would be melodramatic to start with, “Beer will save the world!” But the question of biomedical and bioenergy researches bring us to the tale of Saccaromyces cerevisiae, a yeast of a genus commonly used in the manufacture of bread, wine, and beer. S. cerevisiae is a species used to make lagers. Marco Werman of PRI’s The World, and geneticist Chris Todd Hittinger explain:
Marco Werman: … A lager is a clear, cold-fermented kind of beer. You have to use a specific kind of yeast to make the stuff. Lagers were first brewed in Bavaria in southern Germany back in the 15th century. Scientists have long known that the yeast involved was a hybrid, half European and half well, that was a mystery until now. Turns out the mystery yeast originated in Patagonia on the tip of South America. Chris Todd Hittinger is a genetic scientist and co-author of a study on lager yeast. It was published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences this week. Hittinger says he and his team made the discovery while investigating different species of yeast, or Saccharomyces, around the globe.
Chris Todd Hittinger: Saccaromyces is the Latin name for the close grouping of yeasts that include the ones that make ale, and bread and wine; and those are all made by cerevisiae, Saccaromyces cerevisiae. And Saccaromyces are often found in association with oak trees and also with fruits. And it turns out that all southern beech trees, they form galls in response to infection by another fungus.
According to Hittinger, the Patagonian yeast contributing to what we now know as S. cerivisiae most likely crossed the Atlantic via trade, both in the products—including fruit, drink, and even wood—and also in the fruit flies that would have come along for the species. And it is true, something about the chronology doesn’t quite match up if we stick strictly to the detail of Werman’s introduction; that is, if we stick with Columbus and 1492. But Hittinger acknowledges, “This is where the genetic research can’t be particularly informative, but we can speculate a little bit.”
Still, though, it was not questions of beer in particular that brought Hittinger to pursue the lineage of lager yeast. Yeast plays an important role in biomedical research and bioenergy development. According to Hittinger, “most of the genome technologies have actually been worked out in half a dozen fairly simple organisms, and Saccaromyces is really one of these champion research organisms.”
So, yes, it is possible that, one day, beer will save the world. But we need not go out and drink ourselves silly to celebrate the potential of one particularly interesting yeast. Indeed, there are plenty of reasons to hoist a pint, and it would seem stupid to pound ourselves into a drunken haze to celebrate health.
Then again, we are human.
Or, as a great man once said: Drink up, dreamers; you’re running dry.
I’ve been waiting for this. We always wait, anticipate, this.
Jubelale is a Deschutes blue line, a beer to carry us through the autumn and winter. As with all seasonals, the character and quality varies from year to year. While Jubelale is consistently a good beer, tinkering with the recipe and variations in the hops harvests have placed it variously in the spectrum, from appreciable to outstanding. Once upon a time, Jubelale was my standard for measuring beers.
This evening, I was delighted to find Jubelale on the shelves of my local grocery store. I have not yet tasted the delicious brew. Excuse me for a moment, that I might pour myself a round, and we can undertake a review in real time.
The nose is slightly floral but with a hint of caramel; present without a doubt, but obvious about its subtlety. Perhaps there seems a sense of contradiciton about that, but nothing about Jubelale is straightforward. Visually, it is a striking dark ale, red verging toward brown, with a slightly golden head.
The first thing that strikes my palate is the balance. In truth, I prefer something a little more bold. But as the tongue conditions to the brew, it starts to pick out the components. Indeed, the balance of Jubelale’s flavor is very nearly moving, both literally and emotionally. The hops are present, the malt is present, but neither aspect defines its flavor spectrum. The slogan on the bottle is, “A Festive Winter Ale”, and it is true that Jubelale is certainly festive. Perhaps that is where my expectations run awry, for the nearest thing to a complaint I might offer is that the beer is not as—and I hate this word, anyway—robust as I expect. But that’s just the thing; if it was as robust as my mind always imagines it, Jubelale would be a very heavy beer. Rather than slugging it out for my attention, the hops and malt seem to sing in a wonderful harmony, dance to a mythic synchronicity.
The final outcome is such that I can only look forward to our next trip to Oregon, which should be in the next month or so. Deschutes has a brew pub in Portland, which will make for a fine stop along the way. That is, I can’t wait to taste this beer out of the cask. Properly handled, Jubelale could easily stand toe to toe with any number of fine English beers, and here I’m thinking of York Brewery.
Pair this with beef—burgers, fajitas, steaks, whatever—white fish, pasta with white sauce, pizza, buffalo wings. I’d probably choose something lighter with a marinara, but even though the malt stands out in the bouquet as I drink it down, and the hops in the aftertaste, I really am hard-pressed to think of a meal this wouldn’t work well with. It would make an excellent compliment to lentil-bacon soup, and probably wouldn’t clash with the outstanding salad I had at 1331, a gastrobar in Grape Lane, York: “toasted goat’s cheese in sesame seeds served on a bed of radicchio & red chard leaf with a raspberry mustard dressing”. Seriously, Jubelale is one of the most diverse beers I’ve ever encountered. Festive, comfortable, and above all, welcoming. Once again, it defies my expectations.
To the folks at Deschutes Brewery, salud. I would raise my glass, but it’s empty. Time to pour another.
Eric Asimov on beer:
A good selection of Belgian-style ales is like the very best kind of buffet, offering an assortment of flavors, aromas, styles, strengths and types. You want strong ale, sour ale, sweet ale, dry ale, golden, dark, wheat, fruity and malty. When we set out to draw a stylistic standard for a planned tasting of Belgian golden ales, it seemed as if we’d taken on an impossible task. But glory does not come to those who quit easily ….
I admit, Belgian aren’t my favorite beers, but I’m not going to complain. After all, it’s beer.
Oh, right, and their winner was Jolly Pumpkin, from Oro de Calabaza of Dexter, Michigan:
Our No. 1 beer was the Oro de Calabaza from Jolly Pumpkin, which, like the Good Harbor Ale, is from Dexter, Mich., a small town near Ann Arbor. A cabal of Belgian beer lovers in Dexter?
Perhaps, but these two beers were brewed by the same man, Ron Jeffries, the founder of Jolly Pumpkin, who also finds time to do the brewing for Leelanau. Both of these beers were unfiltered, giving them a hazy appearance, and aged in barrels, but beyond that they are completely different. While the Good Harbor was funky, the Oro de Calabaza was spicy, fruity and floral, with soft carbonation and fresh, vibrant flavors. Same man, different yeasts, at the least.
Mark Steel proposes:
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve so it’s going to be FUN. Because this is when you’re not only allowed but encouraged to get drunk ….
…. New Year’s Eve is like those boards that local authorities put up for kids to graffiti on, or the chants that baseball fans are directed to sing by stadium announcers. By making these acts official the fun is ruined ….
…. [Y]ou’ve a better chance of having a brilliant time at Christmas and New Year if you ignore the fact it’s Christmas and New Year. Or join a religion that insists the Christians are three days out, then get absolutely smashed on January 4th.
There are a couple of other holidays like this; there is plenty of drinking and revelry on the Fourth of July in the United States, and wasn’t St. Patrick’s Day, 2008, moved to the ides of March to avoid everyone getting drunk on Sunday and being hung over on Monday?
I once asked a friend of mine if he had any plans on St. Patrick’s Day, and he said, “No, not really. Too many amateurs out tonight.”
He has a point.
B.D.'s Last Refuge 