Turtle Beer

A terrapin is a turtle and as Sarah pointed out, the mascot of the University of Maryland. But Terrapin beer comes from Athens, Georgia. The Rye Pale Ale I picked up at the Total Wine in McLain was pretty good stuff. I like the grainy rye spice, but the pale ale part is just sort of cursory— you know, a bit of citrus and stuff. It’s easy drinking and tasty. 

What does rye taste like alone? I need to find some roggenbiers.

Port City Brewing Co.

Alexandria is a cute little town on the outskirts of D.C. It’s filled with adorable row houses and seafood restaurants. Over on the industrial side of town, Port City Brewing is hiding in a huge warehouse with plenty of room to grow.

The beer runs the usual gamut from wheat to stout with a few pale ales in between. The Opimal Wit was the lightest offering. That’s it; it’s just light. A little lemon, a little spice. The Essential Pale Ale actually surprised my in-laws with a near clone of a grapefruit from sweet-tart flesh to bitter pith. I liked it, but it as a little weak. The Monumental IPA was a bit of a let down. Building on the Essential pale, Monumental brought extra sweetness and pine, but not much else.

The darker beers really shined. Tartan Scottish ale is on the lighter side of the shilling scale — 5% alcohol, 80/-. The guide mentions the beer undergoes kettle carmelization; the wort is added to a preheated kettle burning the sugars a little. You can taste it. Tartan is slightly smokey, slightly sweet and very distinctive.

The flagship Porter is was the real stand out. Silky smooth and full bodied with great roasted coffee flavor. I can see why it’s the flagship; the porter is more complete than the others and perfectly executed. 

Port City Brewing only has two years under their belt, so we’ll let them go a for more years before condemning them to the “good but basic” pile. We avoided the Revival oyster stout, but as an experiment it bodes well for the future.

My dad met the brewmaster behind Two Kilts Brewing by chance at a home and garden show. What they were doing at a home and garden show is still not exactly clear. Dad told them about my blog and they gave him a bottle of Two Kilts Pale Ale for me to try. I was afraid that I wouldn’t like it, that they would see that I didn’t like it, that no one would ever trust me with their beer again.

But I’m happy to say it was delicious. Two Kilts makes a stellar pale ale. It’s a perfectly balanced beer. Toasted bread and dry bitter hops. It reminds me of McMenamin’s Hammerhead, not big or bruising, but not watered down or boring. You can drink a few of them in a sitting without getting bored or blowing your taste buds. Tasty.

One six pack, five vessels.

An experiment: how does the shape of the glass affect the experience of the beer?

Test four: the teku glass.

The teku is a sort of exaggerated tulip glass. Invented by Teo Musso, of the Italian microbrewery Baladin, and Kuaska, a sensory analyst. Designed like the ISO glass — the standard for wine tasting, the teku is supposedly the perfect glass for fancy beer. The bowl is huge, the neck tapered, and the lip flared. It’s elegant but modern.

Mirror Pond tastes the same in a teku as any other glass. Citrus and bready malt combine, but the beer is brought down by a watery character. The teku makes it “feel fancy.” It’s a glass for sipping slowly. 

One six pack, five vessels.

An experiment: how does the shape of the glass affect the experience of the beer?

Test four: imperial pint.

The imperial pint holds a half liter of beer, or a pint with a healthy head. Also known as a tulip pint, the shape is pinched at the bottom but balloons in the middle, allowing more room for swirling. The imperial pint has the size and stackability of the shaker pint and the ballooning shape of a tulip glass.

After being properly warmed, the subject poured the fourth Mirror Pond Pale Ale rapidly into the imperial pint glass. The large head added to his enjoyment of the beer. The imperial pint is optimally shaped for quaffing.

One six pack, five vessels.

An experiment: how does the shape of the glass affect the experience of the beer?

Test three: the tulip glass.

A rounded bowl set an inch above the bar top with a pinched next and slightly flared lip — sophisticated yet bulbous — the tulip glass is the favorite of beer nerds and fancy beer bars. Designed to keep beer at the right temperature and oxygenated, the tulip glass also lets the drinker swirl the beer to her hearts content, with very little spillage.

Our subject enjoys the tulip, which keeps him from drinking it too fast. The flavors are almost the same as from a pint glass. He does need to remember the beer is too cold straight from the fridge. Let it warm up!

One six pack, five vessels.

An experiment: how does the shape of the glass affect the experience of the beer?

Test one: the Bottle.

A cylindrical vessel with a tapered neck with a small opening, or mouth, at the top. The preferred vessel of the uniformed, the outdoors man, and the layabout, the beer bottle is usually brown and labeled with the contents of the bottle. In this case the subject is sampling a Mirror Pond Pale Ale from the renowned Deschutes Brewery in Bend, Oregon.

The beer is of unknown color and consistency, though we must presume pale. The smell is hard to discern, but with the nostrils pressed against the lip of the bottle, a hint of citrus is noticable. The beer is poured into the mouth by lifting the bottle; it tastes of bright citrus and toasted bread. On the tongue it feels slightly oily. The intoxicating effects of the beer are unfettered, but the subject feels letdown. The sensory experience is unsatisfying, like the soul of the beer has been lost.

Fresh hop madness is continuing at Deschutes’ brew pub. I tried a side by side comparison between regular Mirror Pond Pale Ale and the fresh hopped version. I forgot how great Mirror Pond is, floral hops balanced perfectly with biscuity malt. The fresh hop version has more onions than flowers from Cascade variety hops. It might have peaked. There are some very interesting, barnyard flavors floating around, grass and hay and something catty. I think would prefer drinking the original more often. 

I followed that up with King Cone, with fresh Centennial hops. Sarah actually thought it smelled nice. She called it honeysuckle; I thought it was lavender. The taste was less Sarah’s speed “like you gathered a bunch of wildflowers, and accidentally grabbed a dandelion, too.” I couldn’t say it better myself. The finish has a hint of honey, which pushed it over the Mirror Pond.

I wish I had the time, and liver, to drink all the fresh hop beers in the area before they fade away.

The Olympics seems to only ever focus on the winners, the gold medals. What about the silver and the bronze? What about the athletes who are proud just to be there? What about the gracious losers? I want to dedicate Elysian’s brew Loser to all those who took silver with grace or celebrated a bronze medal.

Loser doesn’t come in with any hype; it’s not a beer that everyone talks about. Loser is just like the big boys, all grapefruit and caramel on the nose. All pine in the finish. In the middle it’s all healthy wheat bread and sweetness. Just like an olympic athlete.

Or maybe I’ve had one too many.