Queen takes Bishop: How Saint Arnold's Barrel Aged Imperial Stout #3 Can Help You On Karaoke Night

Barrel-aging is a beer genre having a bit of a crisis at the moment.  This is only according to me, of course, but at a certain measure of volume hitting the market (that being the very scientific metric of one shitload), at what point is it where no one gives a damn about drinking a barrel aged beer anymore?

Whereas having a carefully and masterfully structured bourbon barrel aged beer used to be the libatious equivalent of hearing 'Hey Ya' on the car stereo in the very early solstices of 2003, by August of the same year, everyone was generally just tired of its infinity times infinity omnipresence. 

While barrel aging hasn't quite attained the banality of Top 40 radio, it seems like more than a few breweries are scrawling sappy best-sellers for the sake of improving their chart position with the beer dorks, while becoming less engaged with the actual stuff that helped purchase the kettles in the first place.

Let me be clear.  I don't think that Saint Arnold is guilty of this, necessarily.  I think they brew a very respectable recurrent lineup, and I happily order their stuff from time to time.  The sense I do get with breweries similar in size to Saint Arnold's as they accrue the momentum for 100% sustainability and expansion, is that their side projects tend to be wildly inconsistent from one to the next, clichéd even. In the case of Saint Arnold, sometimes both will occur within the same series.

Before I get into Bishop's Barrel #3, here are my thoughts on Bishop's Barrel #1 and Bishop's Barrel #2, which are mostly favorable.  In fact, I maintain that BB1 was probably the best bourbon barrel stout ever brewed and aged in the Southwest.

For that, Saint Arnold gets a guy's-weekend-in-Cabo-style hall pass to live out their Bishop's Barrel dreams for as long as necessary; a series that will consist entirely of barrel-aged beers for its duration.  I'm certainly okay with that given that Saint Arnold is reliably good-to-great in most things, except that the point of reference for this series begins with perhaps an insurmountable baseline for quality.  And lately the tenor of the Bishop's Barrel series is beginning to mimic André 3000's signature opening lyric "1,2,3,4 ...".  How long is it before we switch the station?

Saint Arnold noted a few differences between BB1 and BB3, which basically utilizes the same base beer but with different finishing techniques, for example, Saint Arnold fermented this version of the imperial stout with their house yeast, which is supposed to add a touch of creaminess, 2) BB3 was aged slightly longer -- 12 months versus 10 months, and finally, 3) there is a '3' on the neck label instead of a '1', which is to say that there is so little variance between one of the best stouts ever brewed in Texas and this version, that any nuances should theoretically improve the beer with one already under their belt.  Third verse, same as the first, right?

Truthfully, it tasted like a Crown & Coke.

Yep, as special as karaoke night 10 minutes before your stage debut of 'Killer Queen' and the barbaric attempt to catch a fast buzz for $3.  It has the demeanor of Brett Favre trying to make himself into a luxury brand.  It drifts so far from Houston-y beer into a lattice of country cousins at a BYOB wedding who've delved into the Canadian elitism of all-denim outfits and velvet bag booze.

I'll state that I do respect a brewery for evolving in a Radiohead kind of way, and Kid A is right about where I see Saint Arnold idling.  But with this series at least, there is a precarious pathway between recording Amnesiac and recording a carnival of laughs like El Camino from a formerly-evolving, presently digressing band like The Black Keys.

Admittedly, there are notes at the bookends of BB3 that are really fantastic -- like the creaminess they were going for, it certainly features that.  Also, the open-mouthed, wet kiss of booze at the end is very clever for an 11-and-a-half percent beer that leaves no heat.  But that is as much talent as this beer shows with its strumming.  And I really hate when people mistake effort for talent.  I call it the Tim Tebow effect.  This beer exemplifies the Tim Tebow effect.

It seems 12 months in the wood was asking BB3 to do more than it really could, or should, or really needed to -- like using a kiln to make cinnamon toast -- a bit of an overkill.  No worries these things happen from time to time.  I'll still be scrambling around for #4.

ABV 11.5%
Acquired Craft Pride [Austin]
Can I Find This in Austin? You'll need a Twitter account.
Album Pairing Oasis | Heathen Chemistry (2002)
★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 3: Capitol Gains in Austin

Well, its been a pretty interesting week hasn't it?

While this post didn't intend to start out with emotional catatonia, I think it is appropriate to take a moment to pause on the passing of Walt Powell, a guy whose influence was felt beyond the silliness of beer drinking, but into something more profound; the personal friendships he developed as a result of beer drinking.  I didn't know Walt well in person, having only shared a few mutual drinks at whatever event had collected the beer community that day, but I felt like I knew him well digitally.  We interacted online quite a bit because I think we shared a mutual sense of what humor should rightly be, and that is snark with a good amount of browbeating, all tied together with a loose beer-related theme. He was cool.

I only recently learned that before his gig at Flix, Walt was a beer writer.  And having accumulated cachet doing that, landed him in a place where he thought he could probably be even more influential to the local and statewide craft community.  He was.

I think it would please him to learn that his demise brought forth shock and bewilderment in the beer community the same way as Joe Johnson going out in the 2006 NBA playoffs against the Spurs or Michael Owen withdrawing from the English squad in the '06 Cup.  Total bewilderment, everyone scrambling to make sense of it.  Over beers of course.  That went without saying.

Walt left an irreplaceable gap in the landscape of possibility, not only for him as a very decent dude, but as a leader in the craft beer movement.  We've lost our target man.  Our sharp shooter.  And the immediacy of its circumstance makes it weird as we attempt to maintain the house.  As humans, we are conditioned to tell somebody goodbye while they are still within earshot.  But to people like my son, for example, who hasn't quite grasped that social premise yet, it feels weird to send someone off without letting them know we meant to say goodbye. Its good to know that some of his wit has preserved him in script somewhere on the internet.

As beer people, we like to travel in packs -- bar crawls, bottle shares, brewery releases, and so on.  I think we like the assurance that we're a community.  It preserves the delicate nature of altruistic relationships necessary in the craft world.  The consumer is as important as the brewer.  The retailer is as vital as the distributor.  I think it denotes that, for the most part, we've all got each others backs and it makes us less-panicky animals without being set free on our own too much.  If you want an example of how inane we get, see how we respond as individuals to rare beer releases left to our own devices.

This notable herd mentality, however, sets the true pioneers of beer in Austin apart from the mass; individuals like Pinthouse Joe, Josh Hare, Jake Maddox, and yes, Walt -- who engage their own loyalties and devotions and grassroots innovative resonance.  People who can make good ideas survive meetings and have minds like boxes of marbles spilled onto granite countertops.  We scramble around trying to aggregate their cognizance.

Beer culture in Austin is healthy as all fuck.  Beer is a huge, uncontrollable threat to our spare time and vital organs.  Beer culture in Austin is not histrionic in the same way something like craft cocktail culture has blossomed and died on its stem, accidentally poisoned by its own caretakers.

Beer culture in Austin, is something that wants to stick, particularly given two circumstances: One, is that this is the second -- possibly even third -- iteration of the craft beer boom in Austin after the rise and fall of both Copper Tank and Waterloo brewing, and the ancillary passing wave of The (original) Ginger Man and Celis Brewing.  With more than a few failures and consequential frustration under its belt, Austin most certainly feels like its got its master plan.  The second circumstance is the crucial system of check-and-balances between brewers, media, and consumers. 

And through chance, luck, skill and achievement, we are now witness to a developing Rat Pack of Austin breweries who are treating this deluged town like its own personal Oceans 11 casting call.  It's as good as we're gonna feel all day.



And above all that, the shit that is really about to make this situation get real-real is the impending act-of-congress (quite literally) that had to happen in order for craft beer in Austin to be completely sustainable.  With the passing of recent legislation, (given the refusal of veto powers by Texas' Aggie-in-Cheif) the Jester King Brewery and Hops & Grain Tasting Room will be full-fledged brewpubs (, but with a license to distribute!).  What this means is, while one can still visit whatever booze depot of his/her choosing to stock beer for personal use, breweries will be allowed direct sales to its customers at its source through a confounding system of product-for-currency exchange!  Right there in the brewhouse!  Yes, quite on the cuttingest of edges by the Texas lege.

When this moment comes upon its much anticipated threshold, Texas will have officially arrived into the premier leagues of beer along with California, Oregon, Michigan, etc with a door kicking entrance.  And the same way it would be baffling for state residents of these beer giants to not spend locally on craft, it would be equally as inappropriate for resident Austinites, or Houstonians, or Dallasites to venture too far out of the vicinity.  Otherwise, take your yankee asses back to Kentucky.  A simple fiver -- and often less than than that -- will get you something great and local in an Austin pub.

Photo courtesy of Josh Hare, Hops & Grain

But in Austin, popularity + growth means one impenetrable force: lines.

Shit, someone should do a study of how long the average Austinite waits in line.  We do it for everything.  Well, anything worth doing at least.

During this past SXSW -- while waiting in line, of course -- I mentioned to whoever happened to be in my immediate vicinity that we should start the next internet meme craze like Planking or Harlem Shake called Queuing.  Just line right the fuck up, doesn't matter to what.  Car wash? Queue. Furbies Live? Get in line, motherfucker. Random door entrance? Behind me, sister.  Been here all day.

It will be a hit.  Hurry up and wait, err' one.

The thing is, good beer and demand are very coincident pals. Who can blame the public for wanting to be participant in something that takes so much time and care?  Aaron Franklin has built an empire on it, and soon, so will the micros of Austin.  Hurry up and wait, indeed.

Good for them.  Like BBQ, breweries operate on razor thin margins and no industry on the planet deserves more income than does the craft industry.  I suspect you'll have to wake up pretty early to beat me to the front of the line of all these new tap rooms.

Finally, as summer begins to vex us with sun-frowns and devastating thirsts, Austin brewers find that this is typically their time to shine (pun, ugh.). This summer in particular will likely finalize Austin's spot on future top-beer-cities lists -- and then get REALLY ready to stand around.

In high anticipation to the folks here at [AA], we expect the following to rip our pants in the front:

• Austin Beerworks' Heavy Machinery Pt. II The DIPA & Einhorn Berliner Weisse, which stays in our heads persistently. 
• Hops & Grain's Greenhouse Series making quiet waves right now, but just you wait.  Fucking wait.
• Pinthouse Pizza's continuing expansion into experimental batches, including the Fallen Cask series.
• The impending debut of Austin Beer Garden Brewery.
• Jester King's Atrial Rubicite Raspberry Wild Ale (pictured above)

What more is there to say to really register the point that the craft beer scene in Austin is as healthy and promising as was its musical culture in the 70s and its barbeque outlook in the 90s?  We're at the front steps of another revolution that makes Austin appear like the cultural center of the planet for people with these interests. The house is in order and now she's picking throw pillows.  These are the giddy days.  Why don't you stop waiting and chip in?

The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 1: Fort Worth
The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 2: Houston

The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 2 - The Bayou Complex: Houston vs. The Fringe Movement

In what is hoped to become a semi-regular feature of [AA], the writers (that's "writers" without the 's') of this spotty publication will attempt to occasionally examine the current state of affairs regarding the craft beer scene in this Great State; it being a reeaaally long limb to step out onto, given that nothing else appears to be as healthy economically, socially, and culturally within the last 28 months than small beer -- and thusly, becomes a pretty goddam easy thing to babble on and on about.  

You can read The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 1: Fort Worth here.

Part 2: Houston, Texas

It used to be Houston was just a good place to do some crimes and easy heckle-bait when scraping the bottom of the barrel for roomie trolling.

Myself, I had been pretty casual about engaging with Houston at all, apart from a Cure gig in late-college, where during the 9 PM encore, Robert Smith more closely resembled a black-cloaked receptacle of gelato left out to render in the courtyard of the Uffizi than a British icon.  The other time was to catch a Gold Cup match between two largely uninspired national football teams with my then-pregnant wife.  Fun times.

Because of those adrenalizing adventures, I was able to see upfront 'why' Houston was considered the most cultured city in Texas by not-at-all link baiting publications like the venerable Complex Magazine (Who? Mike Jones.).

So, when Buick sends something to one's inbox about an opportunity to experience H-TIZZOWN in a supplied loaner Encore, the only real decision is, how the fuck would I choose a lucky companion?

Who I did pick was, in fact, a native of Houston.  A dude who served as the beneficiary of decades-long hometown ribbing at the benefaction of me and fellow mates.  A guy who would prove to be a worthy apostle for the new Houston -- because he has forever deemed it as a city that has become progressively cooler and more invigorated than it was at any point before this very moment.  An agent provocateur of great taste in booze and beer and overall atmosphere (and friends?); and finally, one who would lead us both in a venturesome direction.  Yep, a perfect ambassador for interpreting the mass of concrete and humanity that is Texas' largest and most derided city, but leading us into the underbelly of all that is cool and current.  Along with, of course, that Buick.

For the entertainment of you bastards, I'll spare the details of the 100%-dry Buick Discovery Tour in which we partook, but then ventured off to find a safe parking for the Encore for the rest of the evening so that we could cab the shit out of the rest of our time there.

First stop on the Houston Re-Discovery Tour: The Hay Merchant.

What I discovered almost immediately about a city still bewildered by the news of the Oilers bouncing to a shithole like Nashville, and the total failure of the 1996 NBA season led by the newly acquired Sir Charles, was that the population feels like it has a reason to get fucked up.  Its this general mood that permeates every drinking establishment we would later visit.  Good for them.  I like to drink the pain away as well, so I fit right in.

The second thing I learned is that it took but a single man with an glamorous vision to provide all of the necessary counsel for Houston to gain back its civic pride -- and to work towards a more positive approach to drinking.   But it was gonna take a fuckload of taps.

Mononyminity is the honor bestowed upon the ubiquitous, and like "Magic" at the The Forum or "Pele" at The Maracanã, "Bobby" is the dude that maneuvered the correct angles and set up an offensive strategy.  Out of the six establishments we visited while drinking across Houston that night, Bobby had influence over five of them (-- and if you're counting the next morning's breakfast, then it was six).  By no means was a pub crawl of this sort our intention, but in Houston's current iteration, almost impossible to avoid.

The Hay Merchant was a solid place to have a pint.  Its exactly the experience one expects to have out of a beer bar: choices and a nice chair, with 'fair prices' being a nice bonus characteristic.  Its got the trinity.  And so, the opportunity to lay waste to a Karbach Bourbon Barrel Aged Hellfighter felt like a great way to begin a night of drinking.

Its also, however, a very quick way to end one as well, with one's head stuck down a bowl.

But what kind of adventure would this be if I didn't allow this beer to lay it on me thick with a blanket of digression and fuzz.  Besides, we don't get anything from Karbach Brewing in Austin, and I wasn't gonna let irreverent math like 10.8% and 12 ounces get in my way of a long evening.

After the Hellfighter, was the customary visit to Bobby's first born, Anvil, which if this was a craft cocktail blog and I had a cleft asshole like so many cocktailians assume from having a pestle so far up their asses, I'd go on endlessly about how fucking brilliant it is.  It is. It is a brilliant place. Though I'm a beer guy, I understand the value of a great drink and the importance of a good time.  A real good time* (*Pit Bull).  And so, with three cocktails massaging my insides -- including a very clever Nitro'd Cuba Libre that approximated a creamy imperial porter -- we headed off to the next gig in town: Mongoose vs. Cobra.

Look, with a name like Mongoose vs. Cobra there is almost no fucking way it could live up to anyone's expectations, like Wolf Blitzer or my deadbeat cousin Tyrannosaurus Rex Munoz.

In places like that, most of the creativity stops at the entry, hoping to capitalize on themes and the general fuckery of its clientele.

But as we enter through its gorgeous cedar paneling ...

Amazing Larry gonna amaze. (which, BTW, should be the name of MvC's expansion bar)

...We're like, 'is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Houston'?

Jesus fuck.  This place is a beer drinker's dream: long, handsome community tables, 1800's UK sweatshop architecture, an expertly curated beer selection -- tight and tidy, fucking Jester King's RU-55 ON CASK!  The shit?  Where is the satellite branch in Austin?  This place immediately becomes my newest favorite bar on earth.

As Austinites I know that we find it difficult not to exhale the bored and jaded sigh of those who have seen it all before, but srsly-to-death, Houston, I'm impressed.  I want to drink beer with you.

And it continued like this onward, to several other Bobby-influenced establishments; Goro & Gun (for tonkotsu pork belly ramen and Lone Stars), OKRA Charity Saloon with its majestic wooden bar, and finally at Captain Foxheart's Bad News Bar, which i proceed to immediately declare as my new-newest favorite bar on earth.

Past the fellow on the street wearing the 'Fuck You, Houston is Awesome' tee, behind a darkened door with Lawyer-ly fonts, up a long and narrow stairwell, and between the narrowest of railcar confines hides the gem of the night; a bar as sharp as it is smudged.

Barmen, here, are differing to the palates of the customers selections -- and so, it was my obligation to order something from my limited cocktail memory.  On one of the meteorologically wettest nights I'd experienced in a long time, I ordered a Dark & Stormy, which I guzzle with approval.  I keep eying their small, but inspired beer offerings.

The barmen are also differing to the auditory preferences of their customers, and so someone has donated something more obscure than Youth Lagoon b-sides to the interior, and they are fine songs, wafting through the bar at just the right decibels for a place that doesn't take too many to make it feel full.  It's a poignant moment.

If only the day was 30 hours long.

The State of the Texas Craft Beer Scene Part 1: 'A Fort Night' ft. Martin House Brewing

In what is hoped to become a semi-regular feature of [AA], the writers (that's "writers" without the 's') of this spotty publication will attempt to occasionally examine the current state of affairs regarding the craft beer scene in this Great State; it being a reeaaally long limb to step out onto, given that nothing else appears to be as healthy economically, socially, and culturally within the last 28 months than small beer -- and thusly, becomes a pretty goddam easy thing to babble on and on about.

Whenever there is a flourishing industry in which success is measured by a precarious equation of two-parts popularity and one-part quality, competitors often view the achievements of others as a personal affront, as if being robbed of something that is rightfully theirs. You see it all the time in various enterprises of retail or consumables -- two areas in which craft beer uniquely operates under a single umbrella -- yet remains the example of the one, single, resolute outlier without industry cannibalism.

As it stands at this moment, brewers, investors, capitalists, politicians, and the general collective of craft fans appear to be at the height of satisfaction with small beer's state of affairs, given its cultural and economic impact on communities all over Texas -- and in large part, the entire country.

Recently, I had the opportunity to broaden my exposure to the hyper-local craft beer scenes in other Texas cities beyond my beer-sopped interests of Travis County -- and so, with Mrs. [AA] as my forever companion in kickassery, we went looking for raucous piss-ups in Fort Worth for a night of exploring and matrimonial bonding through the medium of hopped-and-malted fermentables. 

BEER, is there anything it can't do?

PART 1: FORT WORTH, TEXAS

In civic terms, there appears to be a bit of a wince from the Fort Worth populace when packaging the 'FW' into the equation of 'D' as part of the running Metroplexial summation.  This is to say that a bit of escapism is practiced by the local Fort Worth demographic from the banalities of being Dallas' little sister -- and with no disrespect to Dallas -- I don't blame them for it. 

Fort Worth, on its own, is such a magnificent city that it appears a total injustice for it to be packaged as the salsa to Dallas' tortilla chip -- as if Big D is the only vehicle in which Fort Worth can be properly enjoyed, an axiom found by the [AA]'s to be wholly untrue.

Instead, Fort Worth is bacon.  And Dallas is eggs.  And though they are dependable companions, each can be thoroughly enjoyed without the help of its geographical ally. 

And so this is what we did.  A full porcine helping of Fort Worth's belly meat -- first stop, Panther Island Pavilion.

Excuse me while I plagiarize a bit of my own work, but in another publication about the Fort Worth's Untapped Music and Beer Festival, I wrote about how at some point in time, someone, somewhere opined, "whatever happens in indie music happens in craft beer".

Truthfully, nobody has actually ever said that -- but if someone had, the theory would hold up well: quality collaborations, mashups, harshly palatable grimecore, revivalism, and, ultimately, the showy-showy showcases of talent in the form of a festival circuit.

To me, its seems positively mad that these two mediums -- craft beer and indie music -- have never been aligned in a completely determined way, being that they are so analogous on so many levels.  Here, in Fort Worth (and in Dallas at the later half of 2012), the two were masterfully allowed to cross-pollinate on a rather gorgeous Saturday in the spring.

Apart from the gorgeous weather and clever musical narration, what made this festival a relevant example of Fort Worth's emergent beer scene was: 1) The impressively visible representation of North Texas' breweries who were proudly serving their new, yet fully gratifying line-up of beers, and 2) The very appreciative and prescient crowd who expertly gravitated to the beer tents like old ladies to multiple-play bingo.  There was a definitive air of knowledge on the festival grounds that day, and left me with the impression that the people of Fort Worth are serious-to-fuck about great beer.  For its size, I would be hard-pressed to think of a more well-organized and better-curated beer event than Fort Worth's Untapped.





Beside the obvious treasures of [AA] family-favorite Founder's Kentucky Breakfast Stout and Firestone Walker's hot-tag of Parabola and §ucaba, one could find limited treasures from Fort Worth's Rahr & Sons Brewing in the form of two casks named Cheech (Imperial Red dry hopped with Galaxy and aged on Spanish cedar) and Chong (IPA with hemp seed and jalapeno), a not-so-subtle head nod to the event's coincidental calendar date.

For a community of beerists who tend to become very pretentious over time in rather unfair fashion -- and who often say unspeakable shit like, "OK, now fucking impress me" the beer vendors at Untapped had the attention of every single person in attendance, including us reprobates from [AA], who continued throughout the day to shoot flirty eye-boners at the tent handling Fort Worth's newest brewery, Martin House.

The thing with beer festivals in general is that its a bit like being in the Beer ICU, where one is on a steady drip of booze and pharmaceuticals all day and its veeery fucking easy to get inadvertently ruined.  Sometimes, you need a break from the 2oz sampling -- and strangely enough, the best way to do this is to get a proper pour of single beer to recalibrate the system. 

Brilliantly, Untapped made it simple to achieve this typically-impossible beer festival task by offering pours for a measly five skins.

And as a result, we elected Martin House's River House Saison to transition us from an afternoon of boozing in Fort worth to an evening of boozing in Fort Worth.  Congratulations to us.

River House Saison was the jaunty banjo of foot tapping Americana -- an excellent interpretation of a Wallonian, but not distinctly Belgian at all.  Instead it reflected on the heritage of the old-world while maintaining the ambiance of mid-century, mid-American brewing, then juxtaposed with a modern lo-fidelity texture, like Justin Vernon recording in the summer kitchen of a small stone house by some fucking woods or whatever.

River House maintained steady cohesion and great control from its brewers, who despite brevity in business, appear to be expert in skill.  River House was citrusy with foraging wheat and underlying fruit spices.  It really impressed with its refreshing and bright complexity, but understated composites.

It set us in a good direction.

ABV ~5.o%
Acquired Untapped Festival [Ft. Worth]
Can I Find This in Austin? Not yet, but canning is forthcoming and I'm feeling lucky.
Album Pairing Volcano Choir | Unmap (2009)
★★★★★★★★☆☆

And thus, after a light dinner we gathered ourselves again, because the enjoyment of beer is not something that we ever run out of.

We drifted on to two of many highly recommended beer bars in the approximate areas of downtown and the Mockingbird area -- The OG Saucer and The Live Oak Music Hall and Lounge.  I'm a bit envious that 1) Their Saucer actually does NOT suck like the Austin one does, which is shameful because the Austin Saucer has proximal advantages that many other Austin beer bars don't, and has the corporate backing to bring in heavy hitters, like the aforementioned Founder's KBS, and 2) Fort Worth has a very legitimate, very permanent, very seamless venue for craft beer and live music in the form of The Live Oak, which beyond the badassedness of that alone, is curated and portered by the venerable Tony Drewry of Tony Drewry fame.  The melting of minds caused us to bail on our final destination, Zio Carlo Brewpub.

But, we left ourselves a reason to return.

Hops & Grain's 'The One They Call Zoe': Austin's (new) Most Important Beer

Pale lagers are the world's most pervasive beer style, and any one of you reading this has undoubtedly drank your age in kegs of it.

Budweiser is a pale lager.  Yep, the King of Beers.  So is the 'ol Silver Bullet.  And all the scenester standards -- them too: Old Style, Hamm's, Pabst, Lone Star, Schlitz, you name it.  Even [AA] grad-school-staple Michelob (in the lava lamp bottle -- fuck, can we bring those back yet?) is a pale lager.  Its easy drinking stuff and as genetically ingrained in American conventionalism as the 2nd Amendment and loving Taco Bell at 3AM.  Simply put, pale lagers are safe and agreeable in almost every way: mild in flavor, low alcohol, and a disarming color that prevents people from perioding down the front of their pants.  

The problem is, is that these 'beers' are dependent on mass-producing technology and cheap ingredients, like corn and rice fillers to mimic an all-malt bill.  But what those additives impart, is a sickly sweet (corn), abnormally dry (rice), apparition of a true pale lager.  Essentially, Anheuser-Busch and its ilk have castrated the balls of a traditionally round and robust beer style in favor of a gimmick called "drinkability".  What in the entire hell does that even mean?  Well, I'll tell you what it means: it means that the product is inoffensive.  'Drinkability' is basically the equivalent of boneless fucking buffalo wings. 

This city, Austin, -- and any of Hops & Grain's reachable market -- is about to be turned on to something called 'Affability', the central thesis of the most approachable, good-natured, and transcendent beer to approach the city in a decade. 





Hops & Grain's The One They Call Zoe will take over the long-vacated position of Austin's 'gateway beer', where Real Ale's Fireman's #4 left a gaping hole when trained palates became too enduring for a light, golden ale.  It will responsibly be tasked to herald in the next generation of the craft-curious, the same way Austinites were escorted through the desolation of the 1990s by Celis Pale Bock and the open experimentation of the early-aughts by Fireman's #4.

Zoe clears the smokescreen of what is considered seasonal beer drinking by the general beer populace, but a term itself under scrutiny by Austinites because of our weak temperature transitions.  Zoe provides the relaxed spirit of a medium-bodied, appropriately pigmented, slightly sweet, and brightly gratifying beer one would expect to find in the spring and summer, yet, roundly robust, with a clever hop finish that would also be appropriate to drink in the autumn months along with the two days in February called winter.  This beer has year-long endurance.  A game changer.

Immediately, I associated Zoe with a kolsch beer -- a criminally underrepresented style in the Central Texas, provided our heavily influential German roots, reckless summers, and mild ancillary seasons.  Kolsch beers are designed for a place like Austin, given its clean, uncomplicated, and refreshing composition, but also its textured and bold flavor disposition -- like Natalie Portman's navel: tender with a light peach fuzz.  Zoe is a fresh white girl.  Its amazing how great something can taste when care is used.

Here is the final stroke of genius with Zoe as a kolsch:  It is a natural rival of Hops & Grain's own Altbier -- essentially the Texas-ou rivalry of German beer folklore.  Fortunately, we are not forced to take a side in that battle and we can enjoy the fruits of competition.  

So, for a measly $2 more per-pack than any other corn-and-rice pale lager at any local grocery chain (thats ¢33.3 more per can, for you Fine Arts grads), one can procure a beer that uses proper ingredients, brewed with sustainable practice in mind, and crafted by an actual human person.  Its one hell of a deal that will get you by on a year-round basis.  Besides, we can't be expect to get passed these bastards-for-summers with only Pearl Snap and Hans Pils at our disposal, now can we? 

ABV 5.1%
Acquired HEB Hancock
Can I Find This in Austin? You bet. Also, H&G is shipping some stuff to Houston now. Excite!
Album Pairing Josh Ritter | The Beast In Its Tracks (2013)
★★★★★★★★★★