Last week I wrote about a 10 year-old bottle of Olde English 800 Malt Liquor Molly and I were about to open, sample — and hopefully survive. Well, after standing at our bar for several minutes staring at that 40 ounce bottle we decided that something as special as this had to be shared with friends and true beer aficionados. So we put the beer back in the fridge and waited for Friday.

Friday night we wandered down to the tasting room at Port Brewing/Lost Abbey with our 40 ounce treasure packed safely in the ice chest. Waiting a day turned out to be an excellent decision. Head brewer Tomme Arthur was back after a week on the East Coast to attend the American Beer Fest and do a number of restaurant appearances. Assistant brewer Bo Winegarner was also in the house offering samples of a home brewed Doppel Bock he made a couple of years ago. And within a few minutes of our arrival, Tim Bulkley (aka: “the Beer Hunter”) and Ivan Derezin, owner of Churchill’s Pub & Grille, both showed with special beers in tow. To cap things off, Ken, a certified beer judge walked in a couple moments later.

All-in-all a perfect group to sample the special treat we had with us.

Ivan’s contribution to the party was a 24 ounce can of Bud Light “Chilada” currently being test marketed in Texas. Tomme had a 1990 Thomas Hardy he was itching to sip. Tim had a dozen or so stouts he brought in (thinning his “beer herd”) We, of course, had the coup de grace with the Olde E.

The Bad
The Olde E really demanded to go first, so Tomme donned his doo rag (a bar towel), and popped the cap on that sucker.

Surprisingly, no one died.

The bottle opened with a fizzy pop that satisfied us all that the seal was still good, and Tomme poured tasters for all present — including a little on the floor for the “homies” who were not present. Then, as head brewer and a generally fearless/stupid guy, he took the first sip.

Well, actually, he downed the entire glass in one fell swoop — just the way Olde E should be drunk.

We waited a moment. Surprisingly, he did not die.

So we all lifted our glasses and got a taste of a beer nine years, 11 months past its “freshness date”.

How did it taste? Well, I think Ken the Beer Judge said it best:

“Lightstruck and oxidized, but probably better than when it was young. Definitely better than I thought it was going to be.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but certainly proof that a little aging can help even the cheapest of beers.

Tomme continued to fill glasses with the stuff and we handed it out to (often unsuspecting) others. And (not as) surprisingly, no one died.

Up next:
» The Clam Flavored

I’m late to the party on this one because I was out of town (and I’ve been drinking Olde English 800). Over at Seen Through a Glass Lew Bryson is mulling the meaning of the term “craft beer” and whether it applies Anheuser-Busch’s Beach Bum Blonde Ale.

There’s a lot of back and forth in the comments as to the definition (including my own), but it’s not all that difficult as long as one remembers the meaning of the word “craft”. And I’m not talking some marketing hack’s spin on the word “craft” — marketers play fast and loose with words (I know, I am one) — I’m talking the real meaning.

From my handy-dandy Websters New International Dictionary of English:

Craft: \’kraft\ 1: Dexterity, Skill 2: an occupation requiring dexterity or artistic skill.

By extension, a “craftsman” is one who exercises his artistic skill, and one who is “crafty” is clever or skilled.

So then, what is a “craft beer”?

Obviously, it’s one that is produced by dexterity or artistic skill (and perhaps with a little cleverness).

Is AB’s Beach Bum Blonde good beer? Perhaps. (I’ve never tasted it.) But is it “craft beer”? No. Because anyone who’s ever taken a tour of an AB brewing plant knows that the system is highly automated and controlled. Malt is boiled, wort is pumped, hops are added, wort is chilled and fermented, and beer is eventually bottled all via computer control according to a pre-programmed recipe. Human involvement is usually limited to people in bunny suits pushing buttons and looking at display screens. (And maybe a QA person taking some weights and measures to see if the system is on track.)

Now go to your favorite local small brewery and take a look at its system. Do you see technicians in bunny suits behind big glass windows monitoring computer controlled hoppers and automated heating, transfer and chilling systems? I doubt it. Most likely you see guys in rubber boots running around the brewery checking gauges, running pumps and double-checking their notes.

AB is “technology”, your local brewery is “craft”.

I think people are getting muddled in their thinking because they are making “craft brew” synonymous with “micro brewery” and “good beer”, but that’s simply not the case.

“Technology breweries” and “craft breweries” can be any size. If you’ve got the money you can build a totally automated brewery that produces only 30 barrels. And if you’ve got the manpower, you can have a non-automated brewery that produces 3 million barrels. Each is equally capable of making good beers as well as bad ones. (I’d even go as far as to say that craft brewers produce more bad beer because the lack of automation allows for more human error.) Both would probably even employ true craftsmen as brewers. (Someone has to design the beer.)

It’s how they go about producing their product that separates the two. If you rely on technology and systems to produce your beer, you’re one kind — a technology brewery — and you’re usually large. If you rely on your skill, artistry and manual dexterity to make your beer, then you’re a craft brewer — and you’re usually small.

It’s that simple. One is not better than the other. (In fact, one often starts as the other — every big American brewery was a craft brewer at one point.) Don’t fall into the marketing hacks’ trap and let them make “craft brew” a code phrase for “microbrew is better than macrobrew”. It’s the beer that makes the difference, not how it’s produced.

Greetings fellow beer lovers. Molly and I have been in Tucson exploring the beer offerings of southern Arizona the past few days (a fact you may have noticed by Molly’s posts from her nifty new camera phone (2 mexapixels and a full keyboard — pretty awesome).

After I’ve had a chance to weed through the photos, I’ll write up a post on the beers of that region (and the people who make them). In the meantime, I want to share a picture with you so you’ll know what I’ll be up to this evening… and understand if I mysteriously never post another story again.

This, ladies and gentlemen is a bottle of Olde English 800 Malt Liquor (aka: “a 40 of Olde-8″) lovingly craft brewed by the good folks at the Miller Brewing Company.

A good friend of mine, Junior, gave me two bottles of it in honor of a legendary (and/or notorious) weekend I will not speak of here.

That was June 21, 1997.

I have kept these beers carefully cellared for the past decade in anticipation of this day. Tonight, as the sun sets over the Pacific Ocean on the longest day of the year, we are going to crack the screw cap and drink the whole 40.

We may find this — a beer never meant to sit on a shelf for more than 14 days — to have mellowed well and offer rich notes of lemon, caramel, and bread.

We may also find that it causes blindness, madness and profuse bleeding from the ears nose prior to a fatal seizure.

Really, there’s just no way to tell at this point.

Before we drink, a good visual inspection and description of the Olde-8 is in order.

The beer is in a clear glass bottle the shape of a Polaris missile warhead. (Coincidence? I don’t think so.) The cap is a classic screw cap, gold in color, that both adds a noble touch and ensures easy opening without the need for a pesky bottle opener.

The content are a golden amber in color, actually darker than the Olde 800 you’ll see on the shelves today. (I don’t know if this has to do with a change in the brewing or the aging process.) A slight tip of the bottle reveals that magic “flavor crystals” have materialized in the beer during its aging process.

The cap appears to be well-seated with no leakage, and the tamper-evident collar still intact, demonstrating that it remains sealed for my protection.

I’m going to take the bottle and chill it now in preparation for the tasting at sunset (which is precisely at 8 PM here in San Diego). I’ll have tasting notes and a photo or two for you tomorrow.

Or I may be in the hospital having my stomach pumped.

Cheers!

We’ve just entered Gentle Ben’s and I’m having the Oatmeal Stout. Sage is off taking pictures so I ordered him the IPA.

Okay, we’ve moved on to Gentle Ben’s Brewing right next to the University of Arizona.

Nimbus has 10 beers on tap right now and we’re about to try them all. The head brewer is about to come down and talk to us about them. Should be good!

Gotta love the art on the front door of Nimbus. They love the chimp more than anyone.

We’re off to try a full flight of all their beers!

Okay, we’re going into Nimbus Brewing in Tucson. Everybody says this is THE place to be if you love craft beer in Tucson.