Last Year’s Highlights – Everyone is Doing It!

It’s true, everyone is doing it, but as I looked through my photo folders a smile crept across my face. So, here, with little to no narrative, are some of my happiest moments in the past year.

Chillin' with Nevada friends - JD on his game: Asian beef skewers on the smoker.

Drinking my last bottle of the extinct Roman Dobbelen Bruinen from 1996. It was right there with coffee and bitter chocolate, caramel, and a powdery, slightly lactic finish. Superbe.

Discovering cool beer fests with cool people, like Big Dog's Peace, Love, and Hoppiness fest.

Fried green tomatoes. 'Nuff said.

Sitting beside Charlie Papazian when his phone rang in a room full of beer judges. That would be a no-no.

Watching someone taste her first ever malted milk shake in an old school diner.

Chocolate...

Attending cool beer dinners, like this "sibling rivalry" event with Janet and Peter Egleston, owners of the Northampton Brewery and Portsmouth / Smuttynose Brewing, respectively.

Dining in Chicago during the World Beer Cup. Fried egg on arctic char hmmm...

Watching Miranda eat my wine grapes.

No resolutions except this one – live, love, and laugh in 2011. Cheers, TPJ.

The Reinheitsgebot is Nonsense

There is a lot to be said for tradition, more so than ever with the current trends of cultural homogenization and closures of local businesses. And while it is often portrayed as tantamount to tradition, the famed German purity law is hooey, plain and simple.

Its relevance in focusing the styles of Germany has been been as instructive and destructive as 13 years of Prohibition were in this country. Gose (pron: gōz-eh, a sour beer made with naturally salty water), breyhan (sour wheat beer), grätzer bier (highly hopped, pale, smoked wheat beer), and many varieties of fruit or spiced beers – gone! Some of these lost styles are only now being made again in a few of the more risk-tolerant brewpubs.

I’m not going to get emotional about it, no not me, not like the rabid advocates of this misappropriated and antiquated policy. But it is fair time we let the cat out of the bag.

The Reinheitsgebot (pronounced something like: HRHINE-hites-ghe-boat) literally means “purity order.” However it was not until 1908 that that term gained use as a title. Originally is was called the “surrogate prohibition” decree. It was laid down in April of 1516 by the Dukes Wilhelm IV and Ludwig X of Bavaria. But the concept is even older. A similar document, predating the other by over 80 years, was uncovered north of Bavaria in Thuringia in 1999.

The order has since been touted as a way of protecting the wheat and rye for the baking industry, ensuring strange ingredients were kept out of beer, or even as a consumer protection act, but it holds darker secrets. As far as beer quality goes, the code does not require traditional methods like decoction, nor eschew off-flavors like diacetyl. Growers are free to use pesticides, and brewers can use chemical additives and chemically extracted hop oils. No, the “purity order” doesn’t say anything about healthfulness. In fact, organic beer producers pose a real threat to the house of cards upon which this marketing phenomenon has been built.

Brewers had been using wheat and rye and medicinal herbs and mushrooms in their beer. What is now Germany was a region of rich and varied brewing traditions that had been documented as far back as “the Holy Roman Empire.” Why worry about what brewers put in their beer? If you make a beer with weeds from your yard and rye with fungus growing on it (ergot is a rye rust from which LSD was first isolated), people will either like or not. If they like it they’ll come back for more. If they don’t, well, the brewer had better find a different line of work. Then again, maybe that’s the sensibility of the modern free market, and as we’ll see, the Reinheitsgebot is not at all about a free market system.

Only a single stanza of the decree deals with ingredients – the rest is about price controls. In the highly touted ingredient portion, the decree stipulates that beer must be made exclusively from barley and hops and water. One commonly hears about how yeast hadn’t yet been described by Louis Pasteur, so it was fine that yeast was left off the list. But even brewers in this dark time knew that one cropped the barm from one batch to the next. No, there was deeper meaning in the Reinheitsgebot…

One way to think about it is that the Dukes had created a more restrictive definition for the word “beer,” along with the provision that anything not meeting the definition could be confiscated by the authorities without compensation to the brewer.

Modern historians endlessly quote one another, saying that the underlying reason for the rule was to ensure that there was adequate wheat and rye for making bread. Frankly, bread, beer, what’s the difference? – they are both hearty, nourishing comestibles and generally immune to Medieval sanitation problems.

There was no way the people were going without their beer, so if the overlords said this is the way it must be, you might as well roll with it. Besides, if you didn’t abide by the code the authorities would confiscate your beer without remuneration. What these historians fail to mention is who owned all the barley fields. You guessed it, the Dukes. The original Reinheitsgebot was market protection for the wealthy. And you thought American corporate lobbying was a new idea?

 

The Reinheitsgebot has been modified throughout history - the current definition bears little resemblance to the original. (Source: google, frequency of historical dates with regard to the rule.)

As time went on the rule was variously massaged, abandoned, lost and rediscovered, until it ultimately arrived in its modern form – as a shallow marketing tool to help push claims of traditionalism behind your beer product. How could I posit such claims? Well consider the following, which I’ve knocked down to only a handful of points.

The original decree affected only the feudal region of Bavaria. Later, as Germany began its long crawl from 300 fiefdoms towards today’s single nation, Franconia and Thuringia were added, and the Reinheitsgebot came along for the ride. But after a couple of centuries one heard much less about the decree. It became seen more or less as a rule for pricing and taxation on beer.

Almost from the beginning the rule was gradually modified. In the 17th century a provision to allow brewing with wheat was added, but only members of the aristocracy were allowed to do so. Reorganization in 1803 resulting from the Napoleonic wars saw the famed brewing cities of Bamberg, Nürnberg, and Bayreuth added to a growing Bavarian state. The Reinheitsgebot now expanded northwards. Later, at the turn of the 20th century, the states of Baden and Württemberg in southwest Germany were added.

But back in 1810 Bavaria’s Crown Prince Ludwig married Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen in Munich. Five days after the royal wedding the commoners were invited to a field for horse racing and, it goes without saying, beer drinking. The party grew into an annual commercial enterprise, and by 1818 mercantile beer stalls had appeared.

The grand wedding reception had inaugurated the Oktoberfest tradition. Some say the Reinheitsgebot had been lost in obscurity and largely ignored for the previous couple of centuries. With the rise of Prince Ludwig, a descendant of the of the original Ludwig X, talk of the Reinheitsgebot re-ensued.

The latest ode to the Reinheitsbegot: the Kuchlbauer museum in Abensberg, Germany. It houses an exhibition on the German "beer purity" tradition.

So the Reinheitsgebot’s influence grew throughout Bavaria and other German city-states. In 1919, at the close of WWI, further consolidation took place when the Weimer Republic was formed. As a condition of joining, Bavaria, the largest single participant, asserted that the purity law had to apply to everyone else in the Republic. Even some other countries, Greece and Sweden for example, adopted the standard. In the most amazing display of vibrato, Germany even tried to leverage their participation in the EU with the five-centuries old ball and chain. But in 1987 the EU ruled it an obstacle to commerce. Which it always was.

Some American brewpubs and microbreweries even began touting the rule as a marketing device. It’s not so surprising. We’re victims of the preferential retelling of history and we love a hero. Just as we still think Benjamin Franklin was a great and mighty man of all seasons. No, he was a misogynist, turned-with-the-winds kind of guy who took credit for the work of those around him. But we really do admire that portly gentleman dangling a key from a kite string, don’t we? Now even Ben Franklin is a marketing device with the oft-misquoted “Beer is living proof that God loves us…” bit.

This is not to say that there aren’t other obstacles to beer commerce and that megalithic global corporations don’t dominate the market. There are, and they do. But at least the Reinheitsgebot is finally being seen for what it is: antiquated, price fixing, trade control, and pap marketing.

I’m not alone in thinking the Reinheitsgebot has outlived its usefulness:

• Our weird love of trade restrictions (by Erik Lars Myers)
• Why it’s a load of old bollocks (by Ron Pattinson)
• Anti-Reinheitsgebot Dinner (Washington Times)
• Germans Brewing with Rice (by Ron Pattinson)
• Defiant German Brewer Cited by Officials (BBC News)

[Note: with this piece I am inaugurating a new category on the Palate Jack called Gripefruit – my bitter editorials. Don’t fear, there will always be sweet stories to temper the bitterness.]

Cheers! TPJ

Cedar Plank Salmon with Chanterelles

Eastern Red Cedar - handsome, fragrant wood - killer of apple trees. (Source: botit.botany.wisc.edu)

While immersed in recipe selection for my Feast of the Seven Fishes I had the opportunity to cut down three “cedar” trees (Juniperus virginiana) for my neighbor Deb. The trees provided me with some aromatic firewood for future seasons. Felling them also planted the seed for the enclosed recipe, number 6 out of 7 in my countdown for holiday season fish dishes.

The trees had been planted there in the 1960s by Barnacle Bob, the former owner, and were now tall enough to block much of the light on that side of Deb’s house. Old crusty told me a cockamamie tale about how he “rescued” these three trees from NYC’s Central Park. Maybe he did, maybe not. Fact remains, this locale is within the natural range of the specie, and they could well have arrived by most any other natural means.

I was delighted to cut these trees down, since they harbor an apple-damaging blight called cedar-apple rust (Gymnosporangium juniperi-virginianae) and are dangerously close to my orchard. In the springtime, when the apples are leafing out, spores from growths on the cedar tree travel to nearby apples trees and disturb both leaf development and later, the fruit. Since I continue against all odds to attempt an organic orchard, this is one of the more bizarre steps I’ve yet to take.

As I suspected, when I began cutting into the wood, I noticed its perfumed, purple-stained heartwood. This was the wood made into hope chests and closets. It’s commonly called Eastern Red Cedar, but really a juniper. It was smelling that fragrant wood that caused plank salmon to fall on my conscious thoughts. I’ve often cooked this way, usually on a barbecue and usually with riven sheets of Western Red Cedar (Thuja plicata) that have been first soaked in water.

Cooking salmon on planks combines grilling and smoking techniques. (Source: greatlakesgrilling.com)

Some say it is likely that plank cooking was in use by Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest long before colonists arrived. Author Hilary Stewart reports how some coastal tribes called themselves “people of the cedars.” Their entire culture revolved around the myriad uses of the tree. Others contend that the technique is Scandinavian in origin. To me, it doesn’t seem worth arguing; many cultures would have used similar methods when there was an absence of pottery or metal cookery. In earlier times, wood smoke could add flavor when there were few imported spices or herbs.

Of course those earlier peoples ate salmon. I imagine that a fish from the Pacific Northwest would be most appropriate and I am particularly fond of sockeye. It’s flesh is a deep red-orange tone with the finest grain and texture of any salmon. It possesses an earthy, piny note that works well with cedar.

I prefer salmon from a sustainable wild fishery to avoid perpetuating the pesticides and dyes commonly used in “grocery store salmon.” Wild salmon fisheries are threatened by a range of issues, including pollution from cities and riverside fish farms, over-harvesting, and migration-interrupting dams. The ethical choice of “what’s for dinner?” is not without consequence. The most vocal proponent of restoring salmon waters in the lower 48 states is Save Our Wild Salmon, and I encourage you to see what they’re up to. This recent video release from Skip Armstrong sums up one of the many watersheds being contested. Ultimately I end up purchasing far less salmon than my love for it would otherwise dictate.

As for the other ingredients, you will see that there is an undertone of pine-scented ingredients. I roasted the potatoes with sage, sautéed the squash with thyme, and used rosemary in the balsamic reduction. I served the Scots pine ale Alba to top off my homage to an evergreen forest.

A feast of simple foods infused with various evergreen aromas.

Cedar Plank Salmon with Chanterelles

Ingredients for Two

Time to Prepare: 60 min

• a cedar plank 4×8 in, minimum (you may have to cut down a cedar tree)
• 10-12 oz salmon fillet
• 1 teas olive oil
• 1 clove garlic
• 1/2 teas shallots, minced
• salt and white pepper

• 2/3 c high quality balsamic vinegar
• 1/2 c pomegranate juice
• 1 tbsp brown sugar
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 spring fresh rosemary

• 3 medium red potatoes
• 2 teas olive oil
• 6 leaves fresh sage
• salt and black pepper

• 3 oz fresh chanterelle mushrooms
• 1 teas butter

• 1 small zucchini
• 1 small summer (yellow) squash
• 1 teas butter
• 1 spring fresh thyme
• salt and black pepper

Preparation

If the cedar plank is dry, soak in lightly salted water for 30 minutes. Place the salmon skin side down onto the plank, coat lightly with olive oil, and season with garlic, shallot, salt & pepper. Set aside in a cool place.

In a small saucepan, combine the vinegar, juice, sugar, garlic, and rosemary. Bring to a low boil then lower the heat to slowly reduce. While this is taking on the consistency of honey, carry on with other preparations.

In just a few minutes of cooking the cedar aromas penetrate the salmon and the fish cooks to a delicate state.

Slice the red potatoes about 1/4 inch thick with the skins on. Brush with oil and season with sage, salt & pepper. Arrange in a shallow pan and roast in the oven at 450 deg for about 10 minutes, turning once. When you open the door to turn the potatoes, place the entire plank and salmon into the oven. While these two items are finishing you have about five minutes for the veggies.

Set two small skillets on the heat. In one cook the squash in a tad of butter, seasoning with thyme, salt & pepper. The squash can be cut into 1/4 inch thick rounds or into sticks. In the other you will simply cook the chanterelles in a little butter. Cook the mushrooms al dente, removing them before they wither and go flat.

Onto warmed plates arrange the sliced potatoes. Remove the salmon from the plank and place a portion onto the potatoes. Plate the squash and chanterelles beside the potato/salmon, then drizzle the balsamic reduction around the plate and onto the salmon and potatoes. Serve with a piny, resinous beer like Alba, Racer 5 IPA, Russian River’s Pliny the Elder, or most any beer from Southern California’s Green Flash Brewing Company. Wine drinkers can go with the surprising Brut Rosé from Roederer Estate (thanks Otto for the suggestion), or a pinot noir from Oregon’s southwest corner.

The Countdown

So far:

• No. 7 – Bacalao con Patates Dulces (Spanish-American salt cod and sweet potato casserole), best served with a hoppy American ale
• No. 6 – Moules à la Normande (French-style steamed mussels with creamy bleu cheese finish), serve with a semi-sweet hard cider (check out Farnum Hill).
• No. 5 – Ceviché Mixto (Peruvian cold seafood salad with chilis and citrus juice), served with a cold pilsner or the Classic Cocktail: the Pisco Sour.
• No. 4 – Fried Smelts (Italian, with a mushroom risotto and fennel-burdock side salad), served with an Italian saison-styled beer.
• No. 3 – PBR and Caviar – (Russian-White Trash Fusion) Dine like a rock star, served with ice-cold cheap beer.
• No. 2 – Cedar Plank Salmon – (Nouvelle Native American) First, cut down a cedar tree…

Coming soon:

• No. 1 – Lobster with Vanilla-Blueberry-Mascarpone Ravioli, Asparagus and Three Sauces – A massive, freaky effort to be made by the adventurous chef or dreamed about by armchair cooks.

Life is to be enjoyed and enjoyment is all the more savory if toil is required! TPJ

PBR and Caviar

Snack out like a rock star with affordable and authentic caviar. Wash it down with a can of beer!

It’s time for recipe number 3 of 7 in my countdown for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. If you’re checking your calendar you’ll realize that we still need two more recipes by Christmas. I will deliver on that, but it was challenging to find sustainably harvested sturgeon caviar for this dish.

Caviar (salted fish roe) is best served entirely by itself or with simple accompaniments that soften the saltiness without overshadowing the caviar taste. These sides can include blinis (small pancakes) or toast points, sour cream, and seived, hard-cooked egg. Some people go as far as to include capers, cornichons, lemon, red onion, pepper or herbs. The choice is yours, but be forewarned about criticism from caviar snobs. In truth, accompaniments of all sorts have been served with caviar for centuries.

Caviar’s flavor can range from subtly fishy to buttery or nutty, herbal, iodiney, and in some cases, very fishy. The palate development can be short or long. It is always a bit salty, although modern producers have managed to get the salt down below 3.5 percent. For the amount you will consume, this is less total salt than in many American meals.

Caviar also has a texture that contradicts its apparent soft look. Smaller grains have an almost poppy seed quality, while the large salmon roe are more surprising. You will experience how the roe explodes in the mouth releasing its nuanced flavors. Suffice to say, caviar may not be to everyone’s liking, but those who like it generally look forward to their next chance to taste it. And there may be another reason to eat caviar. As Brillat-Savarin wrote in his Physiologie du Gout:

…unanimous observations have demonstrated that it acts strongly on genetics, and awakens in both sexes the instinct of reproduction.

The shovelnose sturgeon, rebranded as the more appetizing hackelback sturgeon, plies the waters of the Mississippi River. Hackelback is an affordable caviar that compares favorably with Russian Sevruga. (Source: http://animaldiversity.ummz.umich.edu/)

What might be called “true” or “authentic” caviar is obtained exclusively from the sturgeon, among which there are many species. Generally the larger and lighter in color the grains, the more highly valued the caviar. However with salmonid roe (derived from various salmon or trout species) the rule is reversed, whereas the darker, smaller eggs are considered higher in quality.

A third group of fish roe, that of the lumpfish, is more of a novelty and better suited as a garnish, if you even purchase it at all. It is the cheapest of all roe and is often dyed into deep colors and may have preservatives added.

Current perceptions of caviar derive from a complicated history of royal families, issues of rarity among certain types, and taste preferences of disparate cultures. Hanging on to these traditions is one reason that sturgeons in the wild are on endangered species lists around the globe. So a new caviar ethic is in order, one in which you know where your caviar originated, i.e., that it came from a sustainable fishery (nowadays often a fish farm).

Considering that caviar was once so common it was served in Colonial American taverns instead of pretzels or peanuts, it seems fitting to pair it today with the quintessential blue collar beer: Pabst Blue Ribbon – PBR. This notion should agree even with those who hold conservative views about what to drink with caviar, seeing as ice cold vodka or frosty Champagne are traditional. I’ve simply substituted another very cold, bland drink. Do you like the irony of this suggestion as much as I do?

PBR and Caviar

Ingredients for Four

Time to Prepare: 30 min

• 4 slices firm white bread
• 2 tbls sour cream
• 1 oz caviar (Hackelback Sturgeon,$30 at Whole Foods)
• 1 hard-cooked egg, shelled and pushed through a sieve
• 2 teas chopped chives
• 4 cans cheap American lager packed in an ice bath

Preparation

Remove the caviar from the fridge, allowing it to warm up while making the toast. Toast the bread to medium toast, cut off the crusts, and cut each into four triangular toast-ettes. Place the sieved egg in the middle of the plate. Arrange the toast around the egg. Carefully place a dollop of sour cream on each piece of toast. The amount you want is about 3/4 teaspoon and should be equal to the amount of caviar you will place on top. Using a slim, non-metallic implement (I used the handle of a plastic spoon), place a wad of caviar on each bit of sour cream. The eggs stick together pretty well, so this is easier than it sounds. Sprinkle the chopped chives around the edge of the plate. Provide a knife for people to place egg on their morsel, if they so choose.

Serve immediately with very cold bland beer!

Get it on with caviar this Holiday season.

The Countdown

So far:

• No. 7 – Bacalao con Patates Dulces (Spanish-American salt cod and sweet potato casserole), best served with a hoppy American ale
• No. 6 – Moules à la Normande (French-style steamed mussels with creamy bleu cheese finish), serve with a semi-sweet hard cider (check out Farnum Hill).
• No. 5 – Ceviché Mixto (Peruvian cold seafood salad with chilis and citrus juice), served with a cold pilsner or the Classic Cocktail: the Pisco Sour.
• No. 4 – Fried Smelts (Italian, with a mushroom risotto and fennel-burdock side salad), served with an Italian saison-styled beer.
• No. 3 – PBR and Caviar – (Russian-White Trash Fusion) Dine like a rock star, served with ice-cold cheap beer.

On deck:

• No. 2 – Cedar Plank Salmon – (Nouvelle Native American) First, cut down a cedar tree…
• No. 1 – Lobster with Vanilla-Blueberry-Mascarpone Ravioli, Asparagus and Three Sauces – A massive, freaky effort to be made by the adventurous chef or dreamed about by armchair cooks.

More coming at you! TPJ

Embracing Diversity in Beer and Food

The diversified Bill Owens. (Source: switchimage.org, photo with permission by Guillaume Ehrenfeldt.)

Does the name Bill Owens sound familiar to you? It might, if you know something about the renaissance of craft brewing, or the emerging microdistillery movement, or publishing, or photography. Owens is man who can keep reinventing himself, all the while remaining in touch with his other personas.

Owens founded Buffalo Bill’s Brewery way back in 1983. He is the creator of that brewery’s well-known Pumpkin Ale, inspired by George Washington’s brewing methods. He explored publishing for 17 years, founding and running American Brewer magazine. More recently he established the American Distilling Institute as a trade organization for small distillers.

I think I first met Owens at the Mondiale de la Bière festival in Montréal about a decade ago. He was dressed in colonial period work clothes making a porter in an iron pot suspended over a wood fire. The next day (yes, the very next one) he ladled out barmy, fresh beer for me to try. It was, in a word, astounding. The only anachronism to the whole experience was the way his gray hair was cropped short on the sides and spiked high on his head. Spiked, like some sort of beatnik-punk retrograde. He intrigued me, but his constant leering at my girlfriend made me uneasy. It remined me of that Modern Lovers song…

Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole

Was it mysogyny or ego or the fearlessness that comes from success? Or was it simply the photographer’s eye? I’ve seen him work through a group with a camera. Like other highly talented photographers I know, he has a disarming way of interacting that doesn’t effect the flow of events.

This morning I received an email from Owens. It referred to an article in Smithsonian Magazine last month. It was another commendation for his ca. 1970s candid images of American life in California’s burgeoning suburbs.

One of the most famous images was young Richie Ferguson, sitting on his Big Wheel, BB gun in hand, surveying his domain and looking for outlaws.

A kid in 1971. (Source: smithsonianmag.com, photo by Bill Owens.)

Twenty-nine years later Owens went back and found him. He lived less than a mile from where he was raised three decades before. Ferguson had graduated from Big Wheel to motorbike and finally to tricked out Harley.

Same kid in 2000. (Source: smithsonianmag.com, photo by Bill Owens.)

As I look at his face, his hairline, his furrowed brow and suspicious glare, I begin to contemplate to what degree we are formed early on and whether that upbringing causes unavoidable conclusions later in life. Yet I do believe we can enforce change when and if we so choose. Which brings me to today’s thesis on beer and food choices.

I don’t know what Richie Ferguson prefers for dinner or liquid refreshment. That isn’t the point. The point is that we can either go through life sticking with familiar choices or we can decide that while familiar is okay, sometimes we want a change of scenery.

Despite the layers of insight Owens’ images provide, I introduced him in the beginning of this article because of his approach to life. He is one of those people that can languish in the familiar for a while, but then the urge to explore rears its multifaceted head and he’s off again on another adventure. There is a lesson in this for us all. And don’t argue about personality types or economic means or Catholic upbringing. I’m suggesting no “degree” with which you have to adopt diversity. For some it will be a little, and for others of you, you don’t need to even hear this from me, you’re already there.

Then I get a text message from an old friend who is now a wine merchant in Maryland. When I asked him about it, he said it was told to him by another wine merchant, whose wife is herself a beer merchant in Wisconsin.

men who only drink hoppy beers are like women who only drink buttery chardonnay.

Ouch! But then, aren’t these the Richie Fergusons of the world? They found one little flavor niche and can’t or won’t make the small effort to explore. If you will only drink a hoppy beer and you came to that decision by open-mindedly trying many, many types of beers. Good for you. You have explored and now rest in your comfort zone.

But I think this is rarely the case. People who only drink hoppy beers have only made one step in life: from beer that doesn’t taste like much to beer that is overfull of flavor. This embraces the American ideal that excess is good. It does not represent any real risk taking. Same goes for the aforementioned chardonnays. For the longest time I have referred to these as “IYF,” meaning “in your face.” These are among the most unsubtle of wines.

The kind of beer (or wine) lovers I want to be around are unconditional in their love for beer (or wine) and diverse in their explorations of it. They want to try new ones. They are inquisitive about the story behind the drink, just like Bill Owens, who brewed his Pumpkin Ale because he was inspired by our Founding Father.

When I head out for beer and a meal I usually want to try something I haven’t had before. I am aware that by taking small bites out of fear I evolve. But if the beers aren’t that great, I’ll just as soon drink the hoppiest thing they have. Those hops can camouflage some of what’s wrong with a beer. And if the menu is not very inspired I can always default to my comfort food – buffalo wings – no relation to Buffalo Bill’s Brewery. Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he invented those, too. Cheers. TPJ

Fried Smelts with Risotto and Other Surprises

(Source: lotussutra.wordpress.com)

As promised, the recipes for the Feast of the Seven Fishes are getting more and more ‘out there.’ I make no apologies. This is a lengthy post and requires a cook with more hands than Shiva. There will be more fusion and more difficulty from here on out. Be an armchair cook or pony up, source the ingredients, and “make it so Number One.”

This recipe is number 4 in our countdown from 7. At the outset I will say that fried smelts are a traditional element in the Feast of the Seven Fishes. Traditional is great, but smelts can nevertheless be difficult to find, for of course they must be fresh, silvery, lithe and odorless. But fortune smiled and I found them in a diminutive fish restaurant cum market in West Brattleboro, VT – a place called Gillies.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought some unpopular product from a fish counter and have had the proprietor eye me askance, for just a moment, then a smile emerges, then the animated conversation about what’s for dinner. This is what I call connecting. It is a genuine human feeling that there is a commonality between you and another human being. Let’s just say I feel blessed when these moments occur.

Lithe and luminous - fresh smelts ready for action! (Source: italianhandful.wordpress.com)

And so, this jolly, round man weighed up my smelts for all of a couple dollars. He said “this time of year…” knowing that only a phrase meant a paragraph. I said “fried up with mushroom risotto.” His wife, I guess, trundled in and said “we serve ’em at the restaurant with chips.” I’m thinking she meant fries, but there was no English accent. I bounded out into a bolt of sun that broke through the gray sky of the day.

There is so much to write about smelts. Truly. But not here. I already have an entire essay on smelts that I hope to use in the introduction of my first cookbook. Indeed I will likely draw further conclusions from this codex. My late-in-life discovery of the marvel of smelts is a personal idiom, one about the importance of trying new things, eschewing prejudice. I encourage you to find your own smelts, or beef tongue, or cross-dressing, or fascination with crochet. We expand ourselves by taking small bites out of fear.

Dredge in flour, fry ’em, toss ’em on a pile of spinach. No problem. But that’s not my plan. No, now I must find my other difficult treasures: the porcinis (Boletus sp.), Arborio rice, the fennel bulb, and whatever else weaves its way into my fascination. I make myself laugh… it is a wicked web we weave… when a complicated dinner we conceive. Even more so, because pairing a beer with fried fish and fries is simple. With this recipe I’m forcing myself to find an all-rounder that will match the fish, the earthy savoriness, the acidity of lemon and the sulfur of Brussels sprouts.

Fried Smelts with Earth Vegetables, etc., etc.

Ingredients for Four

Time to Prepare: 36 hours     –     Time to Eat: 10 minutes

Porcini Risotto

• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1/2 oz dried porcini mushrooms
• 1-1/2 tbsp olive oil
• 3/4 cup onions, chopped
• 1 cup Arborio rice
• 3 cups homemade beef stock with marrow, see note
• pinch saffron threads, crushed
• 1/2 teas marjoram, dried
• 1/4 cup pecorino romano cheese, finely grated
• salt and fresh black pepper to taste

Note on beef stock: Sear 1-1/2 lb beef shank on all sides in 2 tbsp olive oil. Add 12 oz of low bitterness brown ale or porter and 2 tbsp barbecue sauce. Top up with 4-6 cups water and braise covered for several hours until everything falls apart. Cool enough to handle. Remove the shank bone, meat and any un-rendered fat, but push the marrow back into the liquid. Mash the marrow into the stock. Chill to solidify the fat, then discard the fat. Heat the stock to a low boil, skimming if required, and reduce to 3 cups. Keep warm for use in risotto. Note that for purists, the use of meat or dairy in a Feast of the Seven Fishes dish is forbidden.

Preparation of the Risotto

The risotto recipe is in a style called Milanese and this version is adapted from The New Basics Cookbook by Rosso & Lukins (Workman, 1989).

In a small pan, heat the wine to boiling, add the dried mushrooms, then remove from the heat. In a heavy, straight-sided pot or cooktop-safe casserole heat the oil, add onions until soft, 5 minutes, then stir in rice for another 3 minutes. Adjust heat to medium-low.

With continuous stirring add 1/2 cup of the warm stock. When that liquid is absorbed, repeat with another bit of stock. You will be stirring gently like this for the next 30 minutes – do not let the rice sit in a pool of liquid. The classic way to know when you’re ready for more liquid is when the bottom of the pot comes into view during stirring. When half the stock has been added, switch to adding the warm wine-mushroom liquid. Stir in the crushed saffron and marjoram. Continue with the wine until all used, then finish with the stock. Taste for doneness. You want al dente with no pithy interior to the rice. A small amount of warm water can be added if you need to keep going. Milanese risotto should be creamy, but not runny, whereas risotto from southern Italy tends to be soupier.

Stir in the cheese and salt and pepper, using caution with the salt because of the saltiness of the cheese. Cover the dish and keep lukewarm until plating.

Fennel-Burdock Dice with Brussels Sprouts

• 2 tbsp finely, uniformly diced burdock root (Jap: gobo), see note.
• 1 teas whole annato seeds
• 1/4 cup purified water, acidulated with a splash of lemon juice
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1/4 cup finely, uniformly diced fennel bulb, white part only
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1 cup brussels sprouts
• 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
• salt and fresh black pepper to taste

Notes on burdock root. If unavailable you may substitute with parsnip and/or celeriac (celery root), but skip the annato infusion and add to the sauté with the fennel. Burdock (Arctium lappa) is a medicinal root that looks something like salsify, or, if you’ve never seen that, then like a three foot long brown, anemic carrot. It is most commonly used in sushi where the baby roots are pickled in orange dye and MSG – ick! It has a smokey, woodsy, faintly artichoke taste that is unique – yum! My preparation is designed to achieve the same thing without the unnatural additives. (Also, contrary to popular myth, annato is not just a colorant – crush some and smell for yourself.) This side dish embodies the three colors of the Italian flag, with the burdock/annato supplying the red. Warning: burdock is a stimulant that has a caffeine-like effect. Even handling it before bed last night kept me up most of the night! Who needs Red Bull?

Preparation of the Vegetables

Do not peel burdock, rather scrape the skin off with the edge of a paring knife or use a 3M pad. Cut into uniform fine dice (3 mm) and immediately submerge in the acidulated water to avoid discoloration. Grind the annato seeds in a mortar until you achieve an oily pigment. Now you’re ready to paint the Sistine Chapel. No, now add this to the burdock and liquid allowing same to sit in the fridge overnight.

Now, to get busy, sauté just the burdock (reserving the red liquid) in the olive oil over medium heat for 10 minutes, gradually adding the red liquid. Cook until the liquid is absorbed and the burdock is soft enough to eat. It is a fibrous root so let’s leave it with a little of that natural texture. Set aside.

In a clean pan, separate from the burdock, melt the butter and sauté the fennel until al dente. Meanwhile, in a small steamer, steam the Brussels sprouts for about 6 minutes, until the tip of a knife penetrates, but they are not mushy. Toss the Brussels sprouts into the fennel, then add the lemon juice, salt & pepper. At the last moment, stir in the reserved burdock and immediately plate beside the risotto, arranging to your heart’s content.

Fried Smelts

• 1.5 lbs fresh, cleaned, beheaded smelts
• 1/2 cup flour
• salt & pepper to suit your taste
• juice of 1 lemon

Final Assembly

Begin by heating the oil in a broad pan until it shimmers. Keep the temperature steady. Pat dry the smelts and check for things that might have been missed during evisceration. Coat the smelts with lemon juice, then dredge in the flour to which you’ve added the salt and pepper. This can be done in a baggie, Shake-n-Bake style. Fry the smelts in an uncrowded single layer in the pan for about 3 minutes per side.

Plate the smelts onto a mound of risotto. The burdock-fennel-brussels sprouts mix goes beside. Garish with a lemon wedge and some fresh, flat-leafed parsley. Due to the range of oily, nutty, woodsy, sulfury, acidic flavors, you are going to want a beer that is equally complex. I recommend the Italian beer Genziana, brewed in the style of a Belgian farmhouse ale. It employs gentian root (Gentiana lutea), the bitter and medicinal element in Angostura Bitters, and has a honeyish sweetness and flowery hop aroma backed by yeast-driven depth and a lingering bitterness. I found it to be excellent with this dinner. May you and your army of sous chefs enjoy! TPJ

Dinner is served!

p.s. Tasting notes for beers paired with this dinner follow.

Some beers that paired credibly with this dish.

• Saison du Buff (collaboration between Stone, Dogfish, and Victory), 6.8%
  • beer itself: bitter, yeast aromatics, vulcanized rubber/sulfur, herbaceous
  • popped out fresh vegetable notes from the brussels sprouts et al, collaborated with the risotto, a little slick with the fried fish
• Raison D’Être (Dogfish Head, DE), 8%
  • the beer: malty & sugary, cedar pencil shavings, warming, low yeast factors
  • really matched the risotto, softened the vegetables, and enhanced earthiness from the fish; a happy union, if not very surprising or synergistic
• Maudite (Unibroue, QE, Canada), 8%
  • the beer: pronounced pepperiness, dried fruit, meaty yeast
  • passable but not exceptional, too much spice and alcohol warmth
• Prima Pils (Victory Brewing, PA)
  • bright flor-herbal hop aroma, light grainy malt, crisp sweet/bitter finish
  • held up very well with all flavors and popped up the lemon flavors

The Countdown

So far:

• No. 7 – Bacalao con Patates Dulces (Spanish-American salt cod and sweet potato casserole), best served with a hoppy American ale
• No. 6 – Moules à la Normande (French-style steamed mussels with creamy bleu cheese finish), serve with a semi-sweet hard cider (check out Farnum Hill).
• No. 5 – Ceviché Mixto (Peruvian cold seafood salad with chilis and citrus juice), served with a cold pilsner or the Classic Cocktail: the Pisco Sour.
• No. 4 – Fried Smelts (Italian, with a mushroom risotto and fennel-burdock side salad), served with an Italian saison-styled beer.

On deck:

• No. 3 – PBR and Caviar – (Russian-White Trash Fusion) Dine like a rock star, served with ice-cold cheap beer.

We’re more than halfway there – How’s your Christmas shopping going? TPJ

Ceviché Mixto – Raw yet Refined

Number 5 in our countdown in the Feast of the Seven Fishes, though this dish alone could have seven fishes in it! Ceviché, cebiche, escabeche and similar terms refer to a seafood salad made with mostly or entirely raw seafood pickled in lime juice. It is typically served as a first course, the acid and spice jump-starting digestion.

As with many food terms the etymology is disputed. I prefer to accept that the term derives from siwichi, the Quechua name for the dish. After all, it most likely originated in the Andes where this language predominates.

Hot and fruity, the ají amarillo chili is a key Peruvian ingredient. (Source: laperuanavegana.wordpress.com)

Years back I was dining in San Jose, the capital city of Costa Rica. Dinner was at a Peruvian restaurant named Machu Picchu. It was one of those dinners that you never forget – it forms an immovable stepping stone in your life experience.

There they served three versions of the dish. Opting for the ‘mixto’ I was served a heaping portion of spicy, citrusy wonderfulness with sea bass, octopus, and probably abalone. The traditional piquancy in this dish comes from the ají amarillo chili and tiny sour limes called limónes verdes, or more commonly, simply limónes. Many dictionaries will tell you this term means ‘lemon,’ but in South America is refers to a tart green fruit that looks a Key lime, but is tart as a lemon. I’ll provide you with an alternative on case you can’t find true limónes.

An aternative for limónes (left) is a mixture of lime, lemon, and Valencia orange (right).

Alas, unable to find several of the traditional ingredients I have persevered to create a recipe with available foods that I think captures the delight of this dish.

I am also not immune to the idea the certain foods, like abalone, and to a lesser degree octopus, are not sustainable seafood products. You can check out recommendations from the Monterrey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch.

Ceviché Mixto

Ingredients for 4 Servings

• 2 pounds of fresh seafood (not counting shell weight), could include: firm white sea fish, salmon, shrimp, calamari, octopus, scallops, or other bivalves such as mussels or clams
• juice of 12 limónes verdes, or substitute, as follows:
  • juice of 2 regular limes
  • juice of 1 lemon
  • juice of 1 Valencia orange
• 4 ají amarillo chilis, substitute 2 habaneros
• 4 serrano chilis, or add more!
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 onion, slivered into very thin rings
• salt and cayenne pepper, to taste
• 1/3 cup cilantro, chopped
• 1 avocado, sliced
• leaf lettuce or shredded cabbage garnish

After par-cooking, sea scallops can be sliced into two "coins," then again to make "half moons."

Preparation

You will improve the texture of the dish by par-cooking the shellfish or octopus. For sea scallops (the large ones), heat in butter for 2 minutes per side, remove, cool, and quarter. For clams or mussels, steam in their shell for 4 minutes, cool and shell them. For octopus, poach in boiling water until firm and opaque, about 2 minutes. For salmon or white fish, such as sea bass, swordfish, shark, or red snapper, simply check for bones and dice raw. Cut any par-cooked items into similar sized dice, except for mussels or clams, which you will keep whole. Keep cool while preparing the dressing.

Make the dressing by squeezing juice from the fruit and removing any seeds. Toss in the chilis, finely chopped, the garlic and the onion. Allow to meld for a minute, then taste for piquancy. Add a little salt and cayenne, stir, then try again until dressing borders on being too salty and too hot for your taste. This will be just right once the fish is added.

When you are about 15-20 minutes from serving the dish, combine the seafood with the dressing. Add the chopped cilantro and toss gently to coat everything. Keep cool until plating in a wide glass or a plate. Slice the avocado and dredge in the remaining dressing. Place lettuce and avocado around salad. Dig in! A dish like this will go well with a cold pilsner that has some hop character, including Tecate or Heineken, Singha, or your go-to German pils. You might also try the national cocktail of Peru, the Pisco Sour. ¡Salud¡ TPJ

Ceviché Mixto con Chili Habanero.

The Countdown

So far:

• No. 7 – Bacalao con Patates Dulces (Spanish-American salt cod and sweet potato casserole), best served with a hoppy American ale
• No. 6 – Moules à la Normande (French-style steamed mussels with creamy bleu cheese finish), serve with a semi-sweet hard cider (check out Farnum Hill).
• No. 5 – Ceviché Mixto (Peruvian cold seafood salad with chilis and citrus juice), served with a cold pilsner or the Classic Cocktail: the Pisco Sour.

On deck:

• No. 4 – Fried Smelts – providing I can find them (Italian, with a mushroom risotto and fennel side salad), served with an Italian saison-styled beer.

Thanks for following along – more soon. TPJ

Feast of the Seven Fishes

Here's the Pike Street Market in Seattle. I'll have no problems shopping near Boston either. (Source: dailyvignette.wordpress.com)

Seven, nine, eleven – family traditions vary. But the Feast of the Seven Fishes is a Christmas holiday tradition shared by millions of Catholics. Oddly, I’m not one, Catholic I mean. But when someone says “feast” and “fishes” in the same breath they get my attention.

In case you missed it, one of my readers suggested I elaborate on the traditional elements of the Seven Fishes. So here’s the short exchange from Bacalao con Patates Dulces.

for baccala part 2 can we look forward to a holiday discussion on the meal of the seven fishes? [BR]

To which I responded…

How can I say no to this? Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll prepare one fish/seafood dish per week for the next seven weeks. As I go I’ll write about the mostly Italian-American tradition called the “Feast of the Seven Fishes.” The closest I get to being Italian is that my Dad grew up in Boston’s North End. I’m also a long, long way from being Catholic. But I do like the idea of “fasting” where one is stuffed with all these delicacies!

So… I will make seven dishes and they will use some traditional ingredients, but I will not be held to convention beyond that! These dishes will come from the world over, they will be difficult, and they will be freaky. Thanks for the idea, but I can’t help wondering were this will lead. La Vigilia (the vigil) begins! [TPJ]

So… just to chum the waters, so to speak, I am going to let you know what the next recipe is. I’ll have it up by this weekend. That will be my plan, to keep tally of the recipes posted to date and to let you know the next one to come. As I said, it is going to be multicultural and freaky! And it will get stranger and more difficult as we go along. Um huh, there is a plan.

So far:

• No. 7 – Bacalao con Patates Dulces (Spanish-American salt cod and sweet potato casserole), best served with a hoppy American ale

On deck:

• No. 6 – Moules à la Normande (French recipe. Steamed mussels in cider, cream, and bleu cheese), served with more hard cider

That’s it for now – stay tuned. TPJ

“New” Beer Style: East Coast IPA

Brewers and brewphiles have been clamoring lately about Cascadian Dark Ale, or Black IPA, as a new beer style. In that spirit I offer my proposal for a not-so-new beer style called East Coast IPA. Incidentally, I’m not the first to ponder this question. What is an East Coast IPA and how does it differ from a West Coast version?

One of the many full-bodied, malty/fruity East Coast IPAs.

In a nutshell, it is a malt-forward, moderately bitter ale, just a tad over average beer strength. Common flavors can include pronounced fruitiness, e.g. apricots, apples, or strawberries. Hop aromas and flavors can be a muddy mix of earthy, musty, or balsamy notes. And diacetyl, that wretched, oily butter flavor and sensation, is far too common. The last bit can be explained by the proliferation of the Ringwood strain of yeast on the oriental side of the continent. But as for the dearth of hops and the banal strength of these beers, the best answer is found by digging deep into the New England psyche and palate.

Now really, I’m a lover not a hater. I’m also a 9th generation New Englander, so bear with me as I make comments that could be viewed as specious. Some have speculated that the West Coast uses more hops because they are closer and fresher. I don’t buy that, what with FedEx and hermetically sealed bales of hops. It isn’t the water, because brewers adjust the water to whatever they want. The grains are from the Midwest or from Europe, so all American brewers have access to the same ingredients. Why the difference?

Think of it this way, the traditional foods around here are boiled vegetables, beef, and potatoes. There are no chilis and few tropical spices in this lineage. Excessive bitterness favors certain foods, including spicy foods. In New England you’d be surprised how many people think Taco Bell is good Mexican food. To me it is neither spicy nor good. That’s not to say things aren’t changing, but old habits die hard. Magic Hat amped up their IPA a couple of years ago and Otter Creek is launching a hoppy American black ale this fall. It is also colder, on average, than most of the West Coast. That’s why we like a little sweeter beer around here – we’re trying to burn the sugar to keep warm.

Not your average East Coast IPA!

I’ve come to the conclusion that IPAs are interpreted differently on the two coasts because of the breweries’ mindset, not that of the consumer. I believe in the axiom that if you brew it they will come. Stone and Dogfish should be evidence enough on that score. In my own instance, I find most East Coast IPAs (except for Smuttynose IPA and some occasional one-offs), to be fat, flabby, or weaker than what I have come to appreciate as an IPA. Others, like Ipswich and Harpoon are dreadfully austere. East or West, an IPA should be a hop explosion, an aromatic festival, and the bitterness should cling in the mouth while building appetite and excitement. After all, when I want wine it is chardonnay over chenin blanc. When I choose a whisk(e)y I want a Scotch single malt, not a Crown Royal. When I want a dull, buttery beer I’ll order an Abita. On second thought, probably not.

I decided to put my views to a simple test, relying on brewery websites and Beer Advocate for inputs. I tallied up ten major IPAs I can easily obtain when I’m in Vermont, and ten others that I would find if I were based in, say, San Diego. I stayed with the mainstream brands that are widely available in bottles and I didn’t list any of the IPA permutations: double IPAs, black IPAs, and one-off releases. In other words, I tried to avoid bias without getting too scientific about it. Here’s what I found (shown with 1 sigma standard deviation):

• New England – 10 IPAs
  • strength: 5.8% ± 0.4% abv
  • bitterness: 51 ± 10 IBU
  • aroma: medium
• West Coast – 10 IPAs
  • strength: 6.4% ± 0.7% abv
  • bitterness: 62 ± 18 IBU
  • aroma: strong

Not only do the West Coast IPAs use more bittering, they also put in more flavor and aroma hops. Since some of the New England examples relied on American hop varieties, it isn’t clear to simply say that East Coast IPAs are essentially English-styled IPAs, though many are.

Maybe it was the autumn chill, but I am hankering for an IPA with a bit more warming and a hop blast. I think I’ll pick up some Smuttynose on my next trip to the packy. Enjoy! TPJ

Nano Nano Pico Femto

I think the last time I owned a TV was when Mork and Mindy was still in its first run. Those shows first aired before home brewing and microbreweries were legalized. Shazbot! Really?

What, pray tell, does Mork from the planet Ork have to do with brewing? Nothing, I hope, except the current term for ultra-small microbreweries is nanobrewery and that sent me back to Mork’s interplanetary greeting “Nanu nanu.” Now I’m remembering those horrible rainbow suspenders. Yikes, I even owned a pair. TMI!

How small is small? (Source: http://www.thefoodsection.com)

The nano label grew out of the oft-heard microbrewery term, micro meaning one millionth and nano, the next more diminutive term, meaning one billionth. I guess that makes a homebrewer making 5-gallon batches on the stove a picobrewery, unless that homebrewer is a woman, in which case it’s a femtobrewery. Can you tell I was a chemist in a former life?

Labels aside, there is a discernible uptick in the number of very, very small breweries these days. I’ve had the chance to visit several lately and have quite a few more on my radar. What surprises me isn’t so much the beer they’re making. Beer can be great, good, or so-so, no matter the size of the brewery. I’m interested by the simple fact that these operations, producing barely more than a prodigious homebrewer, have chosen to clear all the legal and fiscal hurdles necessary to sell their beer. Licensing, zoning, financing, and distribution is challenge enough for professional brewers and restaurateurs, but these folks have done it. And why? And how!

What is a Nanobrewery?

Defining the nanobrewery is like trying to typify the Belgian bière de la saison. It doesn’t lend itself to a singular profile. At this point there is no legal definition and that makes the taxonomists among us fidget. There have already been cases of larger breweries cashing in on the media buzz, supplying beer to festivals that were supposed to showcase only nanobrews. And there are the major breweries that started out as what we would today call a nanobrewery: Dogfish Head’s Sam Calagione on his 10-gallon system or Jeff Lebesch brewing those first batches of Fat Tire in his basement and delivering them from the truck of his car. When did they cease being a nanobrewery?

Here are just a few of the definitions currently being given:

• One one-thousandth the size of a microbrewery, that is producing fewer than 15 barrels, or 465 gallons, per year. (OldGrowth)
• A brewery with a batch size of 10 to 75 gallons. (Michael Skubic)
• A brewery with a batch size no more than 3 bbl (91 gal) and no pub attached.
• A brewery whose brewer keeps his/her day job. (attributed to MSN)
• The embodiment of “mom & pop” brewing. (Ian McGuinness)

I like the “mom & pop” notion. These are beers from a cottage industry sold only in the immediate vicinity. One must truly seek them out. When you stop in to have your growler filled you comfortably discuss the weather or the fender bender you just avoided down the street. You are not surprised to find out that the brewer’s mother was friends with your aunt and that the pumpkins in the latest beer were grown by your neighbor. Nano isn’t so much about size as it is about proximity.

Element Brewing produces hand-bottled strong specialty ales presented with cork and cage closures and a tissue label.

Perhaps more interesting than definitions is the fact that many of these operations seem to be a result of a poor economy or re-evaluation of one’s career. Bill “Lefty” Goldfarb resigned from the roofing trade and started Lefty’s Brewing Co. Founder of Great South Bay Brewery, Rick Sobotka, is a board-certified anesthesiologist (I think he’s kept his day job). Steve Howe, founder of Las Vegas’ Plan 9 Brewing started with Mr. Beer kits, suffered a failed Internet business, and took on the financial risk of starting a 2-bbl system.

Scores of others claim to be simply homebrewers bringing their beer to a larger circle. Some nanos, like White Birch Brewing near Manchester, NH, have quickly grown into larger systems and seem to be making a real go of it. Element Brewing is run by two experienced professional brewers, not newbies at all. After just a year of operation they have maxed out capacity on their 4-bbl system.

The individual business models of the nanos seems to fall into one of two classes: 1) you are a glorified homebrewer trying to recoup some of the costs associated with providing your family and friends with beer, or 2) you plan to grow and starting this small is a way to limit financial risk and initial capital requirements.

Cave Mountain Brewing in the Catskills. Hey, that looks a lot like my homebrew system!

Northeast Nanos

Current estimates suggest there are about 50 nanos nationwide, but numbers could go upwards of 100 depending on how one defines the nanobrewery. There seems to be a concentration of nanobreweries in New England and New York. The Pacific Northwest is the other regional concentration. This may indicate that local and state authorities in these regions are not hellbent against new brewing businesses. I venture that it might be more difficult in the bible belt.

To date I’ve visited these Northeast operations.

• Element Brewing Co., Millers Falls, MA – high end bottled-conditioned 750’s
• Lefty’s Brewing, Bernardston, MA – stouts, porters & pales ales
• Cave Mountain Brewing Co., Windham, NY – range of pub-friendly brews

And here are some I hope to visit soon.

• Northshire Brewery, Bennington, VT
• Hill Farmstead Brewery, Greensboro Bend, VT
• Lawson’s Finest Liquids, Warren, VT
• Maine Beer Co., Portland, ME
• White Birch Brewing, Hooksett, NH
• Cooper’s Cave Ale Co., Glens Falls, NY
• Keuka Brewing Co., Hammondsport, NY

And three more on Long Island…

• Blind Bat Brewery, Centerport, NY
• Barrier Brewing Co., Oceanside, NY
• Great South Bay Brewery, Bay Shore, NY

I won’t be surprised if someone says, “Hey, what about XYZ Brewery?” That’s the nature of the beast, nanos are low on the radar and may not be well known outside of their very limited distribution area. Half the fun of sniffing out new beers is in finding the brewery in the first place!

Cheers! TPJ