About a year ago I wrote a “somewhat sarcastic” and critical post about what I saw as a troubling trend towards craft brewer’s use of more and more outrageous ingredients. Thankfully, “Howard Stern Meets Craft Brewing. Enter The Era of Shock Brews”appeared to have made a difference. Apparently the seventeen or so people who read it were the exact seventeen or so that would otherwise have brewed something slightly despicable. They reconsidered after bowing to the force of my reason and observations. I saved craft brewing with a few pictures, a string of adjectives, and a wireless keyboard.
And then this happened…..
A new low in shock brewing?
Apparently that eighteenth reader was the one that got away. When I first heard about a beer brewed with smoked goat brains I assumed it was a bit of interwebz malarky. A premature April Fools joke on the craft beer community. Not so lucky. This beer actually exists and can seemingly be acquired without having to recite a secret phrase to the craft beer manager at the rear alley loading dock entrance of your favorite bottle shop. Apparently bull testicles and beard yeast weren’t outlandish enough for Philadelphia’s Dock Street Brewery, and otherwise well-respected and established outfit that’s anything but extreme. Odd. Its not as though these City of Brotherly Love Brewers are the American equivalents of the Scottish loons at Brew Dogs, infamous brewers of Tactical Nuclear Penguin, the world’s strongest beer and only one “bottled” in a squirrel carcass (or something like that).
It seems the boys at Dock Street are devotes of AMC’s The Walking Deadand thought up this mind numbing recipe to coincide with the airing of the season finale. It’s not as though craft beer and pop culture haven’t collaborated before. Ommegang has already done two brews for HBO’s Game Of Thrones(the current Take The Black Stout is a well crafted, complex but accessible stout that would be worth a pour even if it was associated with H.R. Pufnstuf). And then there was that Hanson Brothers MMMHop IPA. Or was there? Did they ever get that off the ground or have they been too focused on training for an eventual invitation to appear on Dancing With The One Hit Wonders?
Maybe its just me but I think brewing with roasted goat brains makes about as much sense as Yul Brynner nailing a series of Taylor Swift hair flips. And before you go there, I’d say the same thing if they were using candied goat brains. I tried to fight the windmill but, alas, the battle is lost. Since it appears as though shock and grotesque gimmick brews are here to stay I figured I’d toss out a couple of ideas:
Extreme Brewing Fermenter
Staying with the anatomical theme, how about a Surgical Waste Saison fermented in used medical waste buckets? No need to pitch any yeast. Plenty of naturally occurring, wild yeast strains already partying in the goo. Looking for something a little darker to pair with a hearty burger of slab of BBQ ribs? Can’t beat this:
Those aren’t hop sacks
Yes, its finally here. Diaper Genie Baby Poo Porter. Chocolate malt entirely optional given the robust deep dark hues imparted by the brewing process. Variants could be fermented with Gerber Peas, Chicken Mush, Organic Carrots, you name it. The baby food aisle’s the limit!
Unfortunately, there may be no end to this madness. Fortunately; however, there’s always Bud Light. I’d take one of those over brains (in my beer) any day.
Somehow I managed to find a few minutes yesterday to catch up on Facebook posts in hopes of temporarily suspending or at least slowing the scroll. Believe it or not, I really do like almost all of my old friends and try to stay connected to what they’re up to and how many times they’ve shopped at Costco for vastly underrated steaks. As you might suspect, one or two of them share my interest in craft beer so I wasn’t surprised to see my old Audi TT buddy, Jason, post a status update involving Magic Hat. They’ve never impressed me as anything more than modestly mediocre and after selling out to what’s now a South American conglomerate they’ve lost their identity but I thought I’d give Jason’s link a shot anyway. Having read the recap of a lawsuit brought by Magic Hat against West Sixth, a small craft brewery in Kentucky, I became more firmly convinced that Magic Hat has lost more than it’s identity, it’s lost any semblance of the character of shared spirit and cooperation that’s been the hallmark of the craft brewing industry. More importantly, I was left wondering if this is perhaps an example or glimpse of the inevitable types of bigger business corporate behavior that the craft brewing industry’s success was bound to generate. Are we reaching an important tipping point in an ever more crowded landscape or this merely the result of an international bully breaking the unwritten rules?
Inverted Object or Perverted Logic? (photo courtesy of BeerAdvocate.com)
So here’s the skinny: newly sold and foreign conglomerate owned Magic Hat claims that tiny independent Kentucky newbie, West Sixth copied (stole) their #9 logo. You can read more about the suit and allegations of “enormous financial damage” here. Before I go too much further a bit of a disclaimer is in order. I like craft beer. I “research”, write about, and evangelize the wonders of well-crafted ales to all who may and to some who absolutely don’t care to hear about it. That said, my love of craft beer doesn’t pay the bills. Never has and never will. The bills are paid by something I don’t love – not these days anyway. I’m a recovering litigator. I spent over 20 years in courtrooms as a prosecutor, criminal defense attorney and civil litigator. I’ve handled over 100 jury trials from murder, rape, child abuse, drug distribution and robbery to construction and roofing defects, commercial manufacturing disputes, products liability, and copyright/trademark infringement. I’ve put murderers in prison for the rest of their lives and defended companies against disastrous, multi-million dollar lawsuits. In other words, when it comes the subject matter of one brewery suing another, I know a little something (from every angle).
So what’s really going on here? Is Magic Hat (or whoever they really are) flexing their deep corporate pockets by filing a frivolous suit betting that a small southern start-up brewery will meekly submit or do they have a legitimate, if unpopular point? Well, the recovering litigator in me can’t help but conclude that it’s a little bit of both. There are always many more than two sides to a story. Don’t get too far ahead of me here. Yes, I genuinely believe that there is some merit to part of Magic Hat’s claims but whatever merit exists is soundly overwhelmed by simple common sense and good craft beer citizenship. When it comes to that, Magic Hat is failing miserably.
Are the logos similar? Well, maybe a bit. By definition a 6 is an inverted 9 but, all due respect to the legal mind that thought that argument up, it’s ridiculous. The fonts share some style cues and they each have a special character adjacent to the number but aside from that, they aren’t easily confused except by Cirque de Soleil trainees between two-a-day tryout sessions (and that’s mostly because of their Frenchness). “Irreperable harm” and “enormous financial damage?” I think not. I know not. Not now anyway. That said, these types of suits are generally brought to protect the owner’s mark from future damage. West Sixth certainly isn’t planning to expand into Vermont anytime soon but Magic Hat can’t know that and they’re statutorily required to aggressively protect their mark and corporate image at this stage or risk being precluded from protecting it tomorrow. And there’s the rub.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. West Sixth has made what appear to be legitimate offers to resolve this thing like grown craft beer men – not unlike what Adam Avery and Vinnie Cilurzo did when they realized that both Avery and Russian River had a Salvation in their lineups. The result was Collaboration Not Litigation Ale. That’s the way craft brewers have dealt with one another (for the most part) throughout the last decade of the industry’s monumental growth. Even the truly big boys like Sierra Nevada have gone out of their way to support the local, smaller brewers in North Carolina when they announced their new brewery near Asheville. Sniping amongst and between craft brewers as the landscape becomes that much more saturated may be somewhat inevitable but doesn’t have to be ugly – not Magic Hat ugly in any event (I imagine I’ve just become a target of one of their cease and desist letters because I used social media to call them ugly).
Black Magic Hat’s Prototype Logo
I don’t know – that new logo concept isn’t all that ugly. Not Mona Lisa or a Pontiac Aztec ugly anyway. It kind of captures the spirit of the new regime.
Magic Hat’s new brew cauldron
Their nifty new brew kettles fit the image nicely as well. Looks like a batch of Odd Notion or Roxy Rolles ready for the lauter tun.
Oh, one more thing Magic Hat: don’t forget to mention in your cease and desist letter that my refusal to purchase one or two six packs of your mediocre beer this year will inflict enormous financial damage.
It was a really long day. A really long day at the end of a really bad week. I didn’t realize just how frayed I was until I noticed, after more than a few sips, that there was no glass next to my beer bottle. Not a big deal. I was just a bit unfocused and I must have simply forgotten where I put the glass. Plausible but for the fact that I know I hadn’t stood up from the table in several minutes and I’d just taken another sip. Then it hit me. I was drinking straight from the bottle. Once I came to grips with that I became paralyzed with the fear that I might do something else equally devastating – like ingest something containing mayonaise (look, I can’t even spell it correctly). Thankfully this momentary bout of insanity appeared to be limited to the bottle problem. The last beer I drank straight from the bottle was a Yuengling at a birthday party for a friend of my middle daughter’s three plus years ago. It was 90 something degrees and so humid that I swore it felt as though we were being showered by sweat from the underbelly of a herd of giant pregnant yaks. There were no red Solo cups to be had so I had no choice. All I remember about the 3 or 4 of them I had back then was that they were spectacularly tasteless.
Fast forward to the beer in front of me last Friday and it was deja vu in a bottle. Practically tasteless. This time; however, the beer inside was a legitimate – if uninspiring – craft beer: Sam Adams Latitude 48 IPA with Mosaic hops. Compared to any craft beer, Yuengling is going to come across as tasteless (all due respect to Dick and his 7,000 year old brewery but oldest doesn’t equal anything other than oldest – better than Bud, Miller & the rest of the Big Beer swill but far from craft beer by a very long shot) but the Latitude seemed just as hollow. Nothing there. Zero everything. Might as well have been drinking something that came out of a 30 pack with a discount coupon for bail bond services like Keystone, Natty Light, or MGD. In that moment Bud’s latest fanfare extraordinaire made perfect sense. After all, they know their socially engineered subjects better than anyone: Big Beer drinkers ALWAYS drink straight from the vessel – they can’t taste the stuff and have no idea how putrid it really is. And that’s exactly the way the industrial brewers want it.
Pre-crushed for your convenience
Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots? ABinBev spent a few gazillion dollars trying to figure out how to manufacture cans that would obviate the necessity of Buford’s having to crimp his own can at the NASCAR Sprint Cup Party while he hits on his second cousin. Hey Budweiser, you think you might want to spend just a little bit of effort on improving the stuff INSIDE THE CANS instead of prancing around like a brood of proud neon pheasants extolling the virtues of your iconically moronic can? My buddy, Jim of the Beer and Whiskey Brothers wrote a fantastically satirical post on the Bud Bowtie can a few weeks ago. Take a look at it (after you’ve read every post here, of course).
Is it just me? Or is it actually vomiting?
ABinBev has plenty of company in ranks of the stupid swill vessels. Miller Lite is a close second with their sophomoric frat party punch top can designed to “reduce glug.” Huh? How about the nice marketers at Miller tell us what this can is really designed for: shot-gunning brews with the other high school dropouts in mildew-laden basements with mismatched ratty, threadbare plaid couches. Duck Dynasty or Reality Swamp Wife Swap in standard def on the circa 1991 Trinitron optional.
Coors goes about it a bit differently with their “Super Cold” blue mountain labels. Might as well be drawings of tongues on the labels because what they’re really aiming for is just that: frozen tongues. Their beer is only safe to drink at ridiculously low temperatures to ensure frozen taste buds, otherwise they run the risk of having some of their disciples actually taste the stuff and, well, that would only contribute to the already growing flight to quality craft beer.
The constant theme behind all this malarky is simple: get the beer as quickly as possible and as frigidly as possible past the drinker’s tongues before he or she notices how awful it tastes. Once Bobby Ray pounds 4 or 5 he won’t care what it tastes like anyway in the event he starts to slow down to compare tattoos and fishing scars as he tries to impress a redhead who didn’t notice that halter tops weren’t exactly in style in 1975 either. Contrast that to the efforts of Sam Koch of Boston Beer who, along with others in he craft beer world, designed a can to enhance flavors and experience. Sly Fox also introduced the disappearing top can to highlight the can’s contents – substance over sub-standard.
Let’s give credit where credit is due. Industrial Big Beer has spent billions upon billions cultivating an impressively loyal base. Market research has shown them that idiotic gimmicks like pre-crimped Bowtie and shot gun ready punch top cans will draw their core demographic to the flashy retail displays at the liquor stores, groceries, and gas stations. This summer they’ll be installing these things at retail end caps as well:
Sure to look great above the Bud Lime-a-Rita displays
If they brand it, they will come
Hopefully they’ll work out the hygiene issues before rolling these things out. In the end, they know their customers really don’t care what’s inside the cans or bottles as long as it has the right name on the outside, a childish gimmick, gives them a buzz, and promises to make them attractive to scantily dressed bimbos or talking horses just like they see on TV.
Then again, who doesn’t like an indoor communal salt lick?
A few weeks ago I was reading about that Finnish brewery that’s recreating a beer salvaged from a 200 year old shipwreck. Dogfish Head has been doing that kind of thing with much, much older historical brews – the Ancient Ales Series – for years, so the Finn’s brew concept seemed downright tame. Move on. So I did, soon landing on the description of an upcoming brew from a nanobrewery in Iceland. I figured this would be good. Any country that produced Björk could probably turn out an avant guard brew.
The brewery was Egill Skallagrimsson (probably not on ABInBev’s acquisition list) and the beer, to my only slight amazement, was Björk Stork Special Lager. Seriously? First of all, she’s a first class loon. A modern day Yoko Ono but without the politically-laced soft porn with John Lennon side project. Makes Lady Gaga look like Taylor Swift during the infatuation phase with a new boyfriend. Her fans are certified wackadoos and if the country that celebrates her as a national hero wasn’t already physically detached from every other country in the world, we’d figure out how to make it so. Anyway, here’s what Egill Skallagrimsson said about their upcoming brew:
Magnús Ver Magnússon moving an entire brewery
Brewed in honor of our beloved Björk with all of the essence and wonder of her angelic thunder. Aged 18 weeks atop shavings of footwear worn during her 2011 Biophilia World Tour for a unique flavor experience. The clarity of this finest lager comes from the waters of revered Vatnajökull Glacier. A grand lager to quench the thirst of a thousand Magnús Ver Magnússons. In the shadow of Eyjafjallajökull we bring you Iceland’s most prideful premium lagers.
Her idea of Dress Down Goose Day duds
I won’t be pestering my local craft beer shops to stock this stuff and won’t try to track down those 2 art students down the hall in our dorm who I was convinced were from Iceland due to the mannequins in their….never mind. Actually, I won’t be trying to get this beer because nobody can. Harder to get than Westy XII because it doesn’t exist. But one day it might. It might because there are already some outrageous brews out there. The goose-wrapped freak up there would probably pair Icelandic Hákarl (cured shark) with one of them. So? What would Björk drink?
In other words, what tremendously stupid craft beers are actually being brewed, bought, poured, and…*clears throat…enjoyed right now? Two ridiculous examples immediately come to mind (excuse the horrific pun – you’ll understand in a minute unless you save yourself and stop reading right now). Both turned out by otherwise legitimate, respected, award winning craft breweries who apparently thought it might be fun to put on the idiot caps and design the following brews:
To make matters worse, they recently started canning and packaging it in two packs. I wish I was kidding. Brilliant marketing or idiocy on a grand scale? You know the Bud Light Lime crowd is howling at this one.
I didn’t believe this one either until I had no choice. Well, I have a choice not to go anywhere near it. I don’t know what they were thinking aside from the fact that they weren’t. Perhaps a cry for attention from Rogue Nation. Maybe they felt as though they were being left in the dust by more adventurous craft brewers. This is their way of saying “Hey! Look at us now! We can be morons too!” Meanwhile, fully aware of my own opinions on this beer, I bought a bottle of their new VooDoo Chocolate Peanut Butter Banana Aleearlier today AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE THE COMBINATION OF PEANUT BUTTER AND BANANA! So who’s the moron?
There are others. These are just the two that annoyed me the most. I assume this trend of shock brews is just in its infancy. The gauntlet’s been brewed and bottled. What’s your take? Should I just chill out with a sedate Ruination or am I somewhat justified? Let me know what you think.
Not endorsed by Jewish Cardiologists. Unholy Hand Grenades cooked in Stone Smoked Porter
I said it wasn’t Kosher for Passover, didn’t I?
Hello, my name is The Alemonger and I’m an irreverence addict.
Group response: “welcome, The Alemonger. You have a great name. Actually, it’s ridiculous but we’re supposed to make newcomers feel welcomed and comfortable so we say things we don’t really mean. And we say them in unison.”
So what’s an irreverent Jew to do on Passover? Posting a picture of my Unholy Hand Grenades seemed a bit less problematic than actually making them for tonight’s Seder. The heathens are coming over for the second Seder tomorrow night so I’ll wait 24 hours. The extra day won’t kill me. Better not, because if I go before I hit the reset button next Yom Kippur I’ve got less of chance of getting to Heaven than FGCU has of getting to the Final Four. Hmm… Then again, maybe my chances are a bit better than I suspect. For the record, an unnamed brother specifically asked me to make Unholy Hand Grenades (matzo balls cooked in Stone Smoked Porter and wrapped in bacon) for tonight’s Seder but I declined.
SHOW US YOUR FINS!!
I also declined – no, refused – to serve Gefilte Fish. That oily conglomerate of congealed “fish” loaf is possessed of a highly toxic and fetid stench. No wonder we aren’t making enough Jewish babies. The contact odor alone is enough to defeat even the most amorous of intentions. And another thing: where are its fins? Yeah, yeah, yeah (not The Beatles version), straight to Hell. I know.
What’s a Passover Seder without a traditional brisket and recitation of the 10 Plagues? Over the past several years it occurred to me that both the brisket and the plagues needed a little spicing up – one literally. As for the plagues, well, let’s face it, they need a serious overhaul. It is 5773 after all and frogs just aren’t all that relevant a plague these days. More on that later. Back to the brisket…
I didn’t exactly grow up in a house of cooks and I’ve yet to watch a real live Bubbie prepare a traditional brisket so I walk into the valley of stainless steel Vikings already lead by temptations no self-respecting Jewish cook would entertain. I’m not out to win this season’s Food Network Top Chef so I’ll spare you the full recipe. Suffice it to say that it’ll get my Rabbi’s attention – and not in a good way. Mind you, I did use a healthy amount of Israeli cumin in the dry rub but the fact alone that I used dry rub at all is strike one. Strike two is the coffee. Howard Schultz, Starbucks President himself, wouldn’t even carve a brisket rubbed with their own Ethiopian Sidamo (neither will I – I used Peet’s Major Dickason’s but that’s besides the point).
I go down swinging with strike three by using Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout in my braising base. You knew craft beer had to make an appearance somewhere. Oddly (though not at all for anyone who knows me), I’ll use beer in the recipe but I won’t actually drink it at the Passover table. Life is full of gerrymandered lines, rationalizations, and uncommon sense. Remains to be seen if the line between beer and the Passover table will extend to the couch later in the evening. In any event, I figure that actually cooking the brisket in beer – even a world class stout from America’s Torah Belt – is enough all by itself to assure me a long wait for that ferry across the Styx. Maybe I can bribe Charon with a fresh Sculpin or two to show up a little early.
About those plagues…
I get it. Back in the days when Charlton Heston’s ancestor was President of the NSA and defying Pharoah to take his slingshot from his cold dead hand, boils and frogs were probably legitimate plague-worthy inflictions. Not so much anymore. Slaying of the first born would still qualify as a top ten plague today but seems to me a bit extreme these days so let’s bench that one for a while. The time has come to refresh the plagues. Make them relevant again.
Thou Shalt Revise Thine Plagues
I propose we dip our pinky fingers into the Manischewitz for these Ten Plagues we can really get behind:
Dial-up Internet Access
The Honey Boo-Boo and it’s Posse
Obamacare
Bad Chinese Food
The Twilight Werewolf Guy’s Pecs
D List Reality TV (Duck Dynasty & Dancing With the Stars)
Big Beer Pharoahs (ABInbev & MillerCoors)
LiLo
Weak 4G Cellular Coverage
Chick Fil-A Closed on Sundays
Not a perfect list of modern plagues, I know. I expect I’ll be criticized for leaving standard definition TV off the list but that’s not as egregious as the NCAA Tourney Committee’s giving Oregon a 12 seed.
Here’s to a Happy (and possibly Hoppy) Passover! I’d love to hear your suggestions for irreverent celebrations. Let me know what you’re doing to stir things up while hiding the Afikoman.
Not sure what to make of these guys but I like them
Offended yet? Americans in particular seem offended by full frontal nudity. Wardrobe malfunctions during Super Bowl half time shows and a fleeting glimpse of a blurred nipple is enough to send some of us into an irreversible state of shock. Hide the children lest they be forever scarred by nightmares of a nearly fully exposed areola! The entire adult populations of West Virginia and Mississippi driven to therapy. Mass moronity at its pinnacle – or its nadir.
But I’m not offended by a surprise nipple or even a free range breast. Even my holy roller Mormon legal education couldn’t put the fear of broadcast nudity into me. I’m offended by cheese. Hate it. Completely. All forms. It’s vile and rancid. Nothing redeeming about it. Fetid, horrific, and toxic. That’s right. Deadly. It’s a killer. Ask any cardiologist or 7 year old with access to a TV and the attention span to pay attention to commercials.
Too harsh? Nah. OK, maybe not quite accurate. I’m not offended by cheese, I’m offended that most everyone else seems to expect – practically demand – that I like it. Pretty simple really, when milk goes bad (which it never does in a house with 3 young children) you throw it out. That’s especially true when its bad enough to congeal into a solid or semi-solid mass. You don’t rename it “cheese” and put it in your mouth. If not for cheese I could be a proper Giada DeLaurentis stalker.
Giada photo courtesy of the Food Network
I hate cheese almost as much as I hate mayonnaise (amazed myself for even spelling it without passing out). Mayonnaise people are completely insane. Want me to bolt from a room? Put a tuna salad sub in plain sight. Egg salad is even worse. I’ll probably throw up in my mouth by the time I finish this sentence.
But I digress. Cheese is the villain here. Its bad enough when the stuff is in plain sight but when you people start hiding it in otherwise safe havens you’ve crossed the line. I still have PTSD-like flashbacks of an early October 1980 lunch in the Sadler Hall Dining Hall at Syracuse when I bit into a hot dog only to come face to face with a beast so hideous as to forever shatter my sense of dining calm. A cheese dog!? Innocence lost.
I get it. Many of my craft beer friends swear by beer & cheese pairings. One of my favorite craft beer bars in Philly, Tria, is based upon a theme of offering the best of the three fermantables: beer, wine & cheese. Tria is a great bar. Small but world class craft beer offerings and an excellent wine list but I have to ignore that third prong. Full disclosure: not all cheese is bad. This one used to be pretty good:
Now THIS is foodie quality stuff
Yes, I really used to eat those. Fresh from the vending machine they were hard to beat. If I were to go completely mad and forsake my hatred for cheese, this is where I’d go:
I might even get a frequent shoppers club card from that joint.
On occasion I consort with the enemy. I call some of them friends. Frail and flawed as they are. One in particular, G-LO of the It’s Just The Booze Dancing blog fancies himself a foodie and good cook (both true). All around good guy but for his affection for cheese in all of its heinous forms. I thought it only fair to ask him a few questions. Know thine enemy (or something like that). Anyway, here’s my brief interview with a friend and a friend of the fromage. Draw your own conclusions but know that if you side with him I’m coming for you down the road……
The G-LO Interview:
1. Explain yourself
Talk about an open ended question. For those that don’t know me, my name is G-LO, one of the writers for the “It’s just the booze dancing…” blog. Food and drink are what make me happy. The Alemonger, a man that lives in fear of the cheese, asked me to explain how I can eat the stuff. Although I live in fear of his questions (mostly because my Sicilian upbringing causes me to naturally fear anyone that has ever worked in any form of law enforcement. Fear of getting caught? You betcha.), he asked kinda nicely, so I agreed to the interview.
2. When were you turned onto turned milk?
Again, I’m Sicilian. We go from drinking milk to eating cheese at a very young age. Ricotta, mozzarella, mascarpone, fontina, and pecorino. These are our gateways.
3. How do you deal with the stench?
Stench? We cheese aficionados prefer to call them aromas. When the cheese is fresh and well crafted, the aromas are positively mouth watering. What he meant to say: “now that you mention it…”
4. Favorite Cheese & craft beer pairing.
Much like my taste in Craft Beer (or pretty much anything else), I enjoy an incredibly wide variety of cheeses. While I have typically paired a bold red wine with most cheeses, I have really started to enjoy great Craft Beer alongside a well constructed cheese plate (Thank you Tria!). Since I really like big cheeses like Gorgonzola, Roquefort, or Stilton, they need to be enjoyed with a Craft Beer that can stand up to their bold flavors. A Saison Dupont is perfect for this, but I could also see something like a Rodenbach Grand Cru, or perhaps even a really good IPA like Ballast Point Sculpin or Green Flash Palate Wrecker.
5. If you home churned, what would you make and what would you name it?
Several years ago, Mrs. G-LO and I spent an anniversary weekend in DC. We did the usual touristy stuff, i.e. walked many miles and went to many museums (this was before my Craft Beer fascination, so I was not aware of places like Church Key). One particular exhibit that completely enthralled me was Julia Child’s Kitchen which is located in the American History Museum. One of the walls in this exhibit featured Julia Child’s French Bread recipe. What I found most fascinating is what she said about the French and their bread baking habits. Essentially, most French people do NOT bake their own bread. Every town or neighborhood has a local bakery, and that’s where most French people get their bread. Making great bread is inexpensive, but it’s also very time consuming, so why do it on your own when you have access to a professional baker that turns out a consistently great product at an affordable price everyday? With all that in mind, I doubt very much that I would ever make my own cheese. Some things are best left to the professionals. Same goes for Craft Beer. Much respect for those that homebrew, but with so many great local beers, why would I ever want to go through the hassle of brewing my own?
Now if you put a gun to my head and forced me to make a decision, I would go with a fresh mozzarella or ricotta because you can pretty much make it and eat it the same day. As for the name, they already have names.
What that answer reveals: G-LO has a fetish for Julia Child (not peeking through his bedroom window). The French are lazy and toss cows at proper Englishmen. He won’t allow a pet into his house because he won’t be able to name it.
6. Cheese in 3 words:
Makes everything better!
7. What is wrong with you people?
There is nothing wrong with us people. Cheese is an essential and delicious part of life. Great cheese has the ability to take something good and make it even better. A perfect;y cooked, medium rare, USDA Prime Porterhouse topped with melted Gorgonzola? Yes please! Wash that down with a glass of Russian River Consecration? Even better!
You need to get past your preconceived notions and free your mind. Take the red pill Neo!
What should I have asked?
9. Let’s say I completely lost my mind and decided to finally try some cheese (never gonna happen). How would you ease me into it? (for the record, I’d have never asked that)
Would you give a person that hates beer an Imperial IPA and expect them to enjoy it? Would you pour a Laphroaig 10 for a non-whisky drinker and expect them to enjoy it? In both instances, the answer is no. You need to ease someone into it. Tantalize their palate. Pique their interest. What you need to do is find a gateway cheese. I would start very basic. A fine English Cheddar served with some sliced apple, dried fruit, perhaps a bit of honey. Maybe some young Pecorino on a slice of bread, topped with some roasted red pepper. Even better, have a hamburger with a slice of well aged swiss cheese! Ya gotta take it slowwwwwww….
The AleMonger 