Blind Tasting, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Trust My Tongue

On tuesday, 2. November I had my first blind tasting of the boozes. It's something I've wanted to do for a really long time, because it is way too easy to be influenced by a brewery's clout or reputation when tasting. So who knows? Maybe I actually like trappist beers because they're expensive? Perhaps, at long last, I have no dignity as a beer nerd, and must declare my love for Budweiser?

The test was given in two stages. First, I would be blindfolded, and would first try to judge the style and qualities (or lackthereof) first by smelling only, and then by tasting. After giving a concrete guess as to the style, and usually the exact name of the beer, I am allowed to remove the blindfold and, usually, see how wrong I was. I then get another chance to guess after more tasting.

The test was given by my super-awesome ladyfriend, who was also the one to buy the beer for the test. She made sure to visit both a normal grocery store, as well as vinmonopolet, in order to have the broadest selection available. And she found some weird beers, which I really didn't have much chance of guessing. But hey, it was a good time!

Anyways, on to the boozes.

#1- Samuel Smith's Taddy Porter

The actual blind tasting was really confusing for this beer. This beer is known for having a really subdued palette, with very little hop flavour. In addition, I didn't think to give the glass a swirl before smelling. Also, it was served cold, when it is meant to be served closer to room temperature. Ok, enough excuses. Judging by the smell, I thought it was a pilsner. I think (and may shame be upon my house) I mentioned Hansa. After blind tasting, I thought it was a darker lager, perhaps a bock. Sooo, I felt pretty stupid when I took the blindfold off, and I was staring at a dark reddish-brown, nearly black beer with a lovely head. Once I got over my embarrassment, and once the beer had warmed up some, I starting picking up on more lovely flavours, among them coffee, anise, plums, chocolate, and coca cola. The hops were subdued, and only vaguely hinted of black pepper and lavender.

This beer is for me a statesman. Interesting enough, subtle, well-rounded, and clearly with an unnecessarily expensive higher education, and probably enjoys polo. It would be unfair to say that the Taddy Porter blends in, because in reality, it has instead defined what a porter can and should be, at least in the english style. If it was once iconoclastic, it has certainly pulled the trend towards itself. It is unoffending and pleasant, and with its low alcohol percentage (5% abv), it's a little one-sided. But, at the same time, that means that you can have more than two without getting laminated.

Oh, and by the way, I ended up guessing exactly right, including the exact name of the beer. Go me.

#2- Einbecker Ur-Bock Dunkel

Having felt pretty great about having guessed correctly about the first beer, my confidence entering the second beer was at unsustainable levels. And when I was served this one, I was pretty sure I knew what was what. I immediately detected a lot of malty sweetness, and a fair amount of heaviness, along with some spicy and acidic hops. So I was pretty ready to come with the verdict of Anchor Porter, also after tasting.

When the blindfold came off, I was forced to admit defeat once again, staring down a clear, pale beer the color of burnt orange (if we're bringing out the crayon color palette, goldenrod?). So I was kind of back at block 1. Starting over, I decided early on that such peppery and grassy hops simply had to be american, being the good patriot that I am. However, the beer lacked the fruity density which is usually connected with ales, so I guessed it would be Anchor Steam Beer (see my pattern?), a style where lager yeast is fermented at ale-temperatures. This makes it a good in-between beer, and seemed to fit the bill. When told I was on the wrong continent, and with the wrong style of beer, I realized it was time to get off my pedestal, that this was harder than I thought.

I was really surprised that I was dealing with a german bock, a style which I admittedly spend too little time with. Most of the bocks I've had are Polish, especially Koźlak, or the Czech Kozel, which are really sweet and are characterized by a strong odor of licorice and sometimes ethanol, and with almost no hop flavour. (Side note: when in central Europe, it appears to be a good rule of thumb to drink exclusively beer with pictures of goats on the label. Goats are of course the ancient Polish icon of quality and the ability to eat anything). It appears, though, that the Germans produce much more interesting bocks than I expected. Further delicious research is required!

#3- Borg Lettøl. Yeah, seriously.

First impression: "Wow, poopy!".

Last impression: Watching it swirl down the drain.

#4- Black Sheep Brewery's Holy Grail Ale

After thoroughly cleansing my palette from the previous beer (involving brushing my teeth), I was ready for a serious improvement. What I got was certainly better, but nothing special. From its aroma, I guessed it would be a Lambic. This beer smelled sour and musty, rather like a lambic, but quite weekly. From the transcript of the tasting- "Either this is the funkiest pale ale ever, or it's the most boring lambic out there".

After removing the blindfold, I was happy to find that for the first time I was at least close to guessing the style and color of the beer. A straw-colored, cloudy pale ale was greeting me. The flavour was dominated by the strange yeasty off-flavour, similar to Brettanomyces, plus an unpleasant cheese-like flavour, most likely originating from using old or spoilt hops. While all of these qualities are generally considered off-flavours in winemaking and most styles of brewing, these are actually seen as positive things in the brewing of Belgian Lambics. But I still wasn't positive I was dealing with a lambic, since the beer's skunkiness was a lot more subtle than in a normal lambic, and it came across as almost accidental, like a side-thought. Otherwise, this beer was an anonymous and immediately forgettable pale ale.

I ended up submitting my guess that this was a lambic for lack of any better guidance, I was of course proven wrong, that this was supposed to be a quite standard english bitter, a style entirely without Brettanomyces or other such spoilants. And when it was revealed that this was labeled with the Monty Python trademark, I suddenly understood. It turns out they had been trying to sell me a dead parrot.

#5- BrewDog Rip Tide Imperial Stout.

This is what this tasting was all about; taking beers out of their context, without the hype, reviews, or conventional wisdom. And there is hardly a single brewery in Europe with a higher profile these days, at least in relation to units sold, then BrewDog. Whether it be brewing the (then) world's strongest beer at 41% abv, or freaking the shit out of PETA and millions of brain cells a few months later. And BrewDog styles themselves as the "anti-" brewery, rejecting the mass-produced market full of boring lagers. In their own word, "The beer scene is sick, and we're the fucking doctors". So they're good at talking shit, but are their brews up to scratch, or are they just a novelty?

After two beers in a row which were respectively unbearable and schizophrenic, I felt ready for anything. And what I got was amazing. Seriously, just smelling this beer was enough to give me a nerdgasm, especially considering the boring offerings of the last two beers.

The odor was mostly floral, with a ton of great, piney aroma hops as well. It was like a face-full of potpourri, in a good way (if that's possible). Cinnamon, chocolate, nougat and cloves were there to balance it out and remind me what I was smelling, which was assuredly a strong imperial stout.

After tasting I was struck by the complexity and balance of the beer. I was immediately reminded of Nøgne Ø's #100, but ended up guessing Nøgne Ø's Imperial Stout, and 8% abv. The floral hops gave way for the juniper and pine needle flavour, which was put up against a wall of earthy, roasted malts and some strong alcohol. This is the beer that most brewers wish they could brew.

So it turns out BrewDog is worth it, at least their imperial stout. And here is where I would make some shitty pun about "this dog not being all bark", but god dammit, I have morals.

So to sum up, I managed to guess two exactly right (#1, #3), was very close on one (#5), and was a bit further off for the last two. Not bad! But it shows I need to drink some more german and english beer, as it seems that my weakness is there. Time to start boiling some cabbage!

#2- Ægir India Pale Ale

This beer was the second beer from a beer tasting I taught last month, following the first beer I reviewed, the St. Georgen Kellerbier. And who knows, maybe number three will be the third we tried? SUSPENSE!

Ægir India Pale Ale

Though I served this at the tasting, I had actually had a small glass (250ml... what can I say? Beer is expensive) at the ultra-hip and over-hyped new cafe in Grünerløkka, Nighthawk Diner. They had it on tap, along with a few other tasty boozes, including the obligatory Nøgne Ø and Haandbryggeriet. When I tasted it then, it was pretty good. But -and this is weird- it was salty. A little like olive brine. There are a few things that could cause that, the two most likely being a particularly hard water source with lots of sodium, or otherwise some really salty chips in the washing machine at the restaurant. I was pretty prepared to reject the more unsanitary of the two options, not so much out of lack of merit, as the Woody Allen-esque hypochondriac that it would certainly reveal. On the other hand, avoiding public places will give me more time to write this blog. Silver lining?

In order to avoid writing the Infinite Jest of beer reviews, I'll skip over most of the background on Ægir. They are a small brewery that is only three years old (teethed and all) from "The Living Postcard from Norway" Flåm. And their IPA indeed smacks of the rainy seaside, reflecting their attempt to duplicate the American India Pale Ale style of the Pacific Northwest, especially Sierra Nevada, Deschutes, and Rogue.

This beer pours a clean white head, and is the colour of padouk (or rosewood, if you don't feel like googling padouk. Ok, fine, it's orange-red:[ ). This aroma of this beer is incredible. Immediately I was transported to the seaside. Cascade hops, (or one of it's alliterative big sisters Centennial or Columbus), when added late in the brewing process, can produce a lot of really interesting flavours. In this nose you can find everything you need to put you on a rainy walk by the sea; the saltiness is still there, but much more subtle and suggesting seaweed, rain, grass, and a little citrus. Ok, so I guess you're walking on a grassy beach in the rain, eating a grapefruit. It could happen?

The flavour profile was more balanced than the aroma, with a certain amount of malty sweetness to balance some of the hoppy bitterness. But considering its color, I was surprised at how little caramel or nuttiness there was on the palette. When drinking a beer of 6.5% alcohol, it is expected to have a little more nuance in the malt flavour. Notwithstanding, this is still a delicious booze, and the closest I've seen a european brewery come to reproducing faithfully a Northwest IPA. This is one of my favorite styles of beer, and perhaps the one I know best. For further reading, I recommend trying an IPA from any of the aforementioned breweries, or Firestone, Odell's, Stone, or Dogfish Head. None of which, of course, are available in Norway. Shit!

And by the way, while this beer was salty, it was nowhere near as salty as it was at Nighthawk. Gross.

#1- St. Georgen Bräu Keller Bier

So thus begins my foolhardy attempt to document and review in a meaningful way the entire beercatalogue of Vinmonopolet in Norway. Presently they have 173 varieties listed on their website, but this includes a lot of products which they've stopped ordering, are giving a test run, or are oterwise unavailable. But still, that's a lot of beer. Time to get started.

St. Georgen Bräu Kellerbier

Unfortunately, we start on a low note. Or, not exactly a low note, more like a "hmm, that's exactly what I was expecting and that's not altogether bad" note.

Kellerbier is a German, primarily Bavarian style of beer. There are several styles of Kellerbier, some of which are top-fermented (like hefeweizen or bitter or IPA or stout or tripel or or or or), but most are bottom-fermented lagers. They're unfiltered, which means they'll be a little bit cloudy (naturtrüb) and contain small amounts of yeast and other yummy microorganisms. Kellerbier is sometimes considered the bottom-fermented version of english bitter, because of it's low effervescence. Boring! Booze times!

I came into this beer with low expectations. Mostly because I am racist against lagers and their cousins. But for those who are big on their Hansas and Borgs, I could see this one being really attractive. The tanned colour of the beer (bonus point! It's the same colour as John Boehner's forehead- ba bam!) was comforting, reminding me that there might be at least two kinds of malt in the mash. The best thing about the beer was its head, which was nice and creamy, almost like whipped egg whites. Grainy, grassy notes balanced a very muted earthy and floral hop aroma (most likely Hersbrucker, for those keeping score). The flavour was very similar, essentially reflecting the exact ingredients in the beer. When I really pushed my palette to try to find something interesting going on, I picked up on a little vanilla, cinnamon, lentil, and maybe coriander.

This beer was clearly brewed with skill for its style, and I appreciated the absence of aluminium and bleach off-flavours, which is what makes many commercial lagers (I'm looking at you, Ringnes!) almost undrinkable.

All in all, this is perhaps the best light lager I have had. But to steal Jon Stewart's Fox News analogy, being the best light lager is like being the skinniest kid at fat camp. It was light, maybe a little too sweet, and the aroma reminded me a little too much of rubbing my face on a dried field of grass, but still drinkable. This is the kind of beer that I wish was the standard for all the large commercial brewers in Europe. But for the 44 kroner it costs at vinmonopolet, I'd rather buy a shitty beer and a Grandiosa frozen pizza from REMA 1000 and cry myself to sleep.

Right, so. Blogging.

Greetings, Nerds of the Internet!

I've noticed a few things as of late.

1. Suddenly people in Norway are becoming very interested in beer, and more specifically about beer that doesn't suck.
2. Because (I presume) of Norwegian law, the Vinmonopol gives no real information about the different beers they offer. I plan to do a non-scientific study, analyzing exactly how many of their (currently) 206 beers they describe as possessing "dyp gyllenbrun farge" and "god fylde". Boring!
3. Internet forums like beeradvocate.com and ratebeer.com both kind of suck, and are full of reviews from people who don't really know what they're talking about, but know that they like anything that has Cascade hops in it.
4. I know something, but certainly not everything, about beer.

Thus I have taken it upon myself to try and review the entire Vinmonopol selection, in an entirely subjective and unfair way. Which is to say, I'll give the most honest, no-bullshit reviews I can, and I promise to never say simply that it has "good body/god fylde".

I will also be using this blog to discuss my bad habit of brewing delicious beers at home together with my ladyfriend, as well as some more personal things, including the artwork I produce and boring things about my life. But fear not-- I neither own a cat or a baby, nor do I plan on blogging about how "intuitive" they are.

Also, I chose to write mostly in English, so that non-Scandinavians can also read what I write, not least of all my aforementioned ladyfriend. But there might be some Norwegian or Spanish or whatever iblant. Polyglots unite! Or at least feel smugly superior to monoglots!

I am planning on having a beer tasting here in Oslo in a week or two, so probably the first reviews will come then. Until then, blog on, dorks. Blog on.

love,
Joseph