yes, it's a travel book about beer.

Since this book is a travel guide of a place I haven’t been to and don’t really have plans to go to right now (although the book is very persuasive, Brad), I only skimmed through most of the sections detailing the various bars and breweries. Which these sections make up roughly 150 pages of the book’s total 211 pages of content (I did read the other 60 or so). So I realize this is a strange way to review a book. We’ll call it a recommendation rather than a review.

This beer guide, written by Evan Rail (a frequent contributor to the New York Times’ travel section), does a good job of making clear the kinds of beers you’ll find in the Czech Republic and why they are the way they are. Rail shows an understanding of beer that, to me, seems fitting for a guide focused on the subject–it’s very easy to trust his descriptions and assessments because he supports them with as much objectivity as is probably possible when it comes to taste. He also takes care to point out the beers that are ‘unpleasant’ as he frequently characterizes them. So it’s not all beer and roses. Reading over the descriptions made me really want an unpasteurized Pilsner Urquell and all kinds of other lagers I never thought I’d be interested in.

Also, considering the potential aridness and sharp-as-clay style that I’ve found in most travel books, Rail’s guide is one of the more accesible and enjoyably informative travel guides I’ve picked up. If you’re planning to go to the Czech Republic, or are looking for a good reason to plan to go there, I’d definitely pick up this book. And if you really like beer, the Czech Republic might just be ground zero for beer-philia. Apparently each year the country drinks more than 35.2 gallons of beer per citizen–the most beer consumed per capita in the world. So there.

I spent pretty much all day outside working in the yard. This included: tilling up an insanely big garden area and a smaller (when compared with the first area) garden area; having an OK lunch with an excellent, big PBR; and weedeating, pushmowing, and ride-mowing (just made up a word–call Houghton Mifflin) the yard.

But this doesn’t sound like fun, does it? If you’re thinking “no, it does not, dude” sorry, but you are incorrect. Add cold-ass Miller Lite to all of the yard mowing and the fun materializes like a Chia Pet’s grass/hair.

So, first, there was the tilling to be done. Sadly, there was no beer involved in this part of the yard work–it was only 9:30am, arguably too early for a beer. The tilling was made relatively easy with the use of the tiller we rented (back-tine, not front-tine–we’ve made that mistake before). The hardest part was getting the tiller back into the car when we were done and about to return it. Suffice to say that the thing was heavy–the two guys that picked it up and loaded it into my car when we rented it were heard, by my wife, to be laughing at us because they didn’t think we’d be able to get it back in when we were done. They didn’t know I’m magic.

don't try this at home

Pow.

What you are seeing is an $800 piece of machinery in the back of my car after I drove it up the ramp made of two 2×12′s from an old garden box. You might be thinking that Danger is my middle name. Yes it is. But also Genius. It’s a double name, like sorority girls have.

After lunch, I acquired enough gas to power the push mower and riding mower and also a 12 pack of Miller Lite. You can imagine the rest. If you have the means, I strongly suggest getting a riding mower (ours came with the house we bought last summer), regardless of your yard’s size. You can ride around on it and drink beer at the same time. Any other explanation seems unnecessary.

Now you might be thinking, “Miller Lite? what gives?” This gives–Miller Lite is one of those beers that complements outdoor activity in a way that no other beer I’ve had does (except, of course, High Life (Miller’s got that shit figured out)). And it should be cold. Like really hand-hurting cold–then you get to use a huggy, it’s what they’re for.

So at the end of the day, you’ve got a massive space for a garden, and you got to use a machine outfitted with big blades, a 4-stroke cycle engine, and a pull-cord starter. Manly. Then you’ve got the yard mowed, which is measurable in completely satisfying ways that no other jobs I can think of are. First the grass was high, now it ain’t. But there is the vague smell of the gas from the lawn equipment and the new cut-grass. Good. And there was beer. Awesome.

no complaints

I realize this post was not completely about beer. But when we drink beer, usually we’re doing things. Things that often determine the type of beer we drink. So here’s one thing, or group of things, to do with beer.

–

sweet water + mystery hops=yes, yes, yes

The last of the papers have been graded–it’s officially time for beer.

So, I’m going through and finishing the hanger-ons from some sixpacks I bought specifically to post about. Today I’m on the last Sweetwater IPA from a sixpack a friend brought back with him the last time he was in town. Sweetwater’s the premeire, I guess, brewery in Atlanta, GA. Or at least it’s the only one I know of. I think they’re most famous for their 420 Pale Ale, but that’s for another day.

I realize the last post was about an IPA, as is is this one (I’ve also got one more IPA in the dugout), so I’ll try to switch it up a bit the next couple out. The Sweetwater IPA is described (on the label) as being a mammoth IPA with generous quantities of premium hops. Very specific, I know. Although vague, this description seems pretty apt to me. The hops are definitely a big part of the beer–it’s spicy and bitter, more so than the Anniversary Ale of the last post. This is one of the few IPAs I’ve had that tastes pretty close to what hops actually smell like. And this is a fantastic thing. (You, dear reader, should smell hops, either pellets or whole leaf. To put it subtly–Sheeit. (In a good way))

I can’t be specific about what type of hops were used, nor can I give any kind of educated guess, but whatever they are seems to work well. This is a solid IPA. It’s a bit tougher than a standard Pale Ale, such as Sierra Nevada’s or Anchor’s Liberty Ale, but not so much so to turn people off–I don’t think.

I’ve heard that you can volunteer to work in the Sweetwater brewery for a day and receive some beer as a gift/reward. I’d strongly recommend volunteering when/if you’re in the Atlanta area (haven’t done it myself, but I haven’t really been to Atlanta since I was probably 12). Free beer’s always a good incentive to do some manual labor, and if this beer’s free–sign me up.

Thumbs up or thumbs down? I’m going with up. Obviously I’m stupid for IPAs, and this one’s a keeper.

P.S. Lest you think I’m focusing too much on beers I’m fond of (a fair statement (afterall, I’m the one doing the drinking here)), I’m always up for suggestions. Also, I know there are plenty of bad beers I can get my hands on, so look forward to the next couple of entries being particularly amusing (read: bad, cheap, shitty).

I’m currently trying to find a new home (read: blog) for The Box of Vinyl Project (only one rejection so far) because I think the idea is too much fun, and hopefully, to you guys, interesting, to quit altogether. If you know of a blog that it might fit in well with, let me know. I’ll definitely send them a proposal to pick it up. And I thought submitting to literary magazines was hard. Sheee-it.

So from now on, you can look to Typed Slowly for all of your fermentation-related interests and also to satisfy your time-killing urge at your terrible job (everybody’s job sucks–yours is no different–unless you’re Jim Koch) by reading about beer. Fun, fun, fun. Yes, yes, yes.

Having said that, I’ll probably manage to sneak in a post about a book, record, show, film, internet video, or lawn-mowing experience every once in a while–while Kirby’s not looking. Mum’s the word.

On the sunny side, I’m starting another feature to fill the canyon-like void that will be left by The Box of Vinyl Project. We’ll call it (adopt Don LaFontaine’s voice (look him up)) Drinking It All. The title sounds a bit more Dionysian than it actually is. I’ll be setting out on a mission to try every beer I can get my hands on. I realize I’ve set myself up for failure from the beginning (it’s tragically flawed); I can’t possibly drink every beer made. But I’m goddamn gonna try. It’ll be fun. I’ll drink beers you wouldn’t consider smelling. I’ll drink beers I wouldn’t normally consider smelling. Emphasis on the drinking here, not the smelling. I’ll take suggestions and I’ll make suggestions. It’ll be educational. Economical. Inspirational. Farcical. It’ll be about beer.

It’s fixing to all be about beer.

As I’ve told several friends when they ask me about homebrewing–it’s too easy and too cheap not to do it.

The easiest way to start brewing your own beer is to get a starter homebrew kit. There are tons of websites that sell these kits (starting around $100), and if you have a local homebrew store, they should be available there as well. These kits vary in price and quality and in the amount of equipment you get.  I got my kit at Homebrewers.com. This kit is a deal because it includes an all inclusive beer ingredient kit, which will typically cost anywhere from $20 to $50 (and all you have to do is follow directions and you’ve made your first beer). Since I’ve only made extract beers so far, I can only explain how it works making beer from extract. When I get to making beers using all-grain, I’ll definitely do a description of it as well.

Making the beer is about as easy as following a recipe for chili. In the interest of brevity, I’ll keep this description pretty general, otherwise this post will be longer than you want to read–assuming you are still reading now.

If you’re still here, good deal.

Basically, a homebrewer will steep some specialty grains, which contribute several things to the beer (i.e. taste, head retention, color) around 150 Fahrenheit for 30 min to 1 hour in as much water as will safely fit into the pot, then add malt extract (liquid or dry), bittering hops, and boil for an hour. Most people add hops at various times during the boil to get different tastes/aromas. After the boil is done, the wort (what’s in the pot) is cooled to a temperature safe to pitch the yeast at. Usually, I’ll chill the pot in an ice bath and get the temp down to about 110 F, then top it off with enough cold water to make 5 gallons and it’ll drop the temp, usually, to around 80 F or so. This lower temperature is necessary so that the yeast will proof, and not die, when added to the wort. After the yeast is added to the wort, the fermentor is lidded and the airlock is fitted into the lid.

Then it’s time to wait. We all know what they say about the waiting.

After a few days, give or take, the fermentation will be complete (the airlock will stop bubbling). Then the fermented, but uncarbonated, beer is transferred to bottles or a keg system, where it can be carbonated in various ways, and aged anywhere from 2 weeks to several months or even years. I can’t ever wait that long.

I know that was a pretty fast run-through on how to brew at home, but I think that makes the process somewhat clear or at least demystifies it a little. There are myriad other variables that can change the process, such as using grain instead of extract, dry-hopping, throwing in additives (honey, gypsum, salts), wort-chilling, or transferring to secondary fermentors, but we’ll save them for another day.

There are enough books on homebrewing to fill a small library, and these books can be very helpful to not helpful at all. I highly recommend Charlie Papzian’s The Joy of Hombrewing and Homebrewing for Dummies for beginning homebrewers. They both cover the basics and come with lots of good recipes for brewers of all levels.

I’ll do some posts in the future where I tackle some of the separate steps involved in brewing, what their purposes are, and different ways to complete them.

Last, but absolutely not least, to really get the most out homebrewing beer, it is essential to have some beers on hand, preferably homemade, to ease through the process without worry. That and a good stereo system and music. Iron Maiden records work pretty well. As does anything by the Replacements or Paul Westerberg (for obvious reasons).

Now, go get your ass a homebrew kit and make some beer.

You can check out the article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/dining/reviews/28wine.html?_r=1&8dpc

This discussion of stouts makes me wonder, as I have before, why so many people tend to classify beers, and base their own preferences of beer, solely on color. While color sometimes provides an indication of what a given beer will taste and smell like, it’s by no means fool-proof.

I’ve tried to think of an apt analogy for this phenomenon, but the best I’ve come up with is “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” The ugliness of a given John Grisham book’s cover will not keep people from reading it en masse, just like the attractiveness of a new edition of David Foster Wallace’s 1000+ page Infinite Jest will not likely be an impetus to read or not to read. End lit. references and book analogy. There are just too many things that go into making a beer that affect how it tastes to only consider what it looks like. Are people really so lazy that they make their drinking choices, important as they are, based on appearances? Don’t they realize that they primarily taste the beer, not just observe it? Yes, goddamn people are lazy.

To be fair, I’m sure plenty of people actually do choose to drink a dark beer, such as a stout or porter, because of the color rather than the taste. But that doesn’t really help me prove my point or strengthen my argument so I’ll not discuss it. (This isn’t a fucking comp 2 paper.)

I’ll stop with the lecture/bitch session there. In any case, next time you ask what a certain beer is like, try not to ask if it’s dark or light. Ask if it’s particularly hoppy or not. If the answer you get doesn’t mean anything to you, don’t worry about it. Nod your head, pick it anyway (try something new, it’s easy), and just be glad you’re drinking a beer instead of doing something else less fun.