New Belgium Biere de Mars

New Belgium Biere de Mars (Lips of Faith series): Fort Collins, CO

If you’re anything like me, you are 1) on the verge of seeking counseling for your addiction to the beguiling and inexplicably satisfying character of Brettanomyces in beer, and 2) not pulling in triple figures. This can make things difficult in the beer aisle. Beers with Brett (if this Brett talk has got you feeling like Alicia Silverstone right now, this post has a little more info) aren’t cheap, for a variety of reasons – extra equipment, ingredients and aging are often involved, but a lot of the price inflation is probably just due to demand. (If you’re anything like me, that demand is understandable.)

Enter Biere de Mars, beautifully priced at about $5.99. Now, this isn’t really a “Brett beer” – that is, the Brett character is not dominant and the beer is not really sour – but it’s got just a touch, just enough to push the biere from humdrum to transmundane (just showing off there). I imagine some aging would pull the Brett character out a bit more, but for now, it adds a friendly, funky, sweaty character to the beer’s aroma of peach jam on wheat toast. It’s a pretty light-hued beer, approximately the color of the prehistoric amber Jeff Goldblum extracted velociraptor DNA from in Jurassic Park. It's well-carbonated, with a delicate white head that dissipates rather quickly.

The taste is fruity and refreshing, with just enough funk to serve as methadone if not a full-on Brett fix. There’s a bit of mustiness intertwined with the jam-on-toast flavor – though in the mouth, it’s more of an orange marmalade than a peach jam. The paint on the bottle says it’s brewed with spices, but exactly what those are is hard to pick out (aside from the lemon verbena mentioned on the label) – there are hints of black pepper and cinnamon and maybe cardamom, but whatever is in there is very well integrated. The mouthfeel is pretty thin, but this is a springtime beer.

Most everything that comes in Newbie’s painted bottles is pretty damn special (and often named in French!), and I'll attest that Biere de Mars’ beautiful bottle is worthy of the beer inside. This beer is certainly unique, as many Lips of Faith beers are, and it’s a nice change if you're getting burnt out from drinking the same styles of beer over and over again. (I.e., if the number of different IPAs you’ve tried this month is higher than the number of times you’ve called your mom.) ... (Sorry, mom.)

It’s still a little too cold in Colorado for this beer to be in its wheelhouse ("Mars" does mean March), but once bike rides replace back bowls again around here, you'll want to have some of this in the fridge.

Dry Dock Wee Heavy

Dry Dock Brewing Wee Heavy Scotch Ale: Aurora, CO

I've decided to treat Dry Dock Brewing Co. the way I would any other brewery, even though it kind of feels like discovering Creed playing at some dive bar before anyone knew about them and then seeing them blow up and not being able to afford tickets the next time they rock your town. What's that? Oh, no ... I didn't mean Creed. No no, I was thinking of some other band probably.

Can this beer take you higher?

Anyway, moving on... I stumbled upon Dry Dock when I first moved to Denver a few years ago by searching for "brewery" in my GPS and driving a little too far to Aurora. I drank some excellent beers and took home a growler (64 oz.) of the Apricot Blonde for $7, I think -- about what a bomber (22 oz.) of that same beer will cost you now. There was one other person there on that first visit, and now it's often hard to find a seat in the tasting room.

But instead of being bitter about their rising popularity (well-deserved, by the way, like Creed's. What? Uh, yeah ... I mean, of course I'm kidding about Creed) and the premium prices for their beer, I'm going to tell you that their winter seasonal, Wee Heavy, is really just an outstanding take on the style. This deep-brown brew with reddish highlights has a tiny, fleeting head (held back by the 9.5 percent ABV, probs) but huge, lasting aromas of dried stone fruit, spiced rum and Gonzo Grape Bubblicious.

The beer is super smooth and sweet with a pretty substantial mouthfeel (bordering on syrupy -- maple -- as the beer warms and the carbonation dissipates), and the taste is of rum-soaked plums, dried cherries, toasted bread and burnt sugar. (Bread + fruit soaked in rum = fruitcake, I guess. What did you say? Like Scott Stapp? Wait a second!) It has a faint touch of peaty smoke in the aroma and flavor, but said smokiness is pretty restrained for a Scotch ale. Speaking of Scotch, this one's got a bit of a nice whisky aftertaste, which is obviously a good thing. Wee Heavy was great before, during and after my dinner of roasted chicken with a portobello-champagne-cream sauce and cornbread stuffing, and it would pair equally well with other rich dishes that have earthy and caramelized flavors.

Regardless of how inexpensive those growler fills used to be, Dry Dock's Wee Heavy is still a damn good beer for the price. It makes me want to unbutton my shirt and sing "With Arms Wide Open" at the top of my lungs, and you know, darn it, that's just who I am.

Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale

Stone Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale: Escondido, CA

Sublimity has been a subject of serious philosophical interest since ancient times, with the aesthetic-and-literary treatise On the Sublime appearing around the first century AD. In this text, the (unknown) author lays out the concept of sublimity as a greatness surpassing calculation, leading humans "not to persuasion, but to ecstasy" and imparting "deep emotion mixed in pleasure and exaltation."

So, yeah -- Stone has really taken its marketing "arrogance" to the next level with Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale, one of the first commercially available black IPAs ... or Cascadian dark ales, or American black ales, or whatever the hell you want to call them. (Stone co-founder Greg Koch himself makes an extensive argument for "black IPA" here.) Whatever name you land on, these are dark, roasty, rich beers that are also extremely hoppy. (The idea itself is sublime to humans like me.)

As self-righteous as Tim Tebow, but more likable.

Sublimely Self-Righteous Ale is indeed black, with a big, bubbly, light-brown head that settles in for the ride. The smell is smoky and earthy, with fresh, green plant aromas meeting campfire smells -- it's like the smell of nature living and nature dying in one wonderful pour. It's a very visceral and slightly disconcerting aroma, and one you'll want to spend some time with. You get a big whiff of hops right away, with pine and grapefruit (probably from the Simcoe hops) and oranges (probably from the Amarillo) and mint (beats me) showing up, but it's clear there's something dark and different in this beer, as well. It's exciting.

The taste is smoother than the inner thighs of a well-traveled cowboy. The hops show up to play, but they're kept in check by the rich chocolate and espresso flavors from the malt. This is a big beer, at 8.7 ABV and 90 IBUs (most American IPAs are 40 to 70 IBUs), but if I didn't know that, I could drink a lot of this, quickly, before it caught up to me. (I may or may not have done that anyway.)

The hops actually seem kind of restrained in the taste, which doesn't sound like Stone, but as I said, this is a super hoppy beer (evidenced by a faint numbness in the mouth after a few big swallows) -- it's just got a bunch of roasted malt character, too, to keep the hops from freaking you out. The malt and hops hook up again in the finish with quenching pine and charcoal notes.

Stone sets expectations pretty high with the name and bottle-speak on this one, but it's undoubtedly one of the best black IPAs I've had. According to On the Sublime, a beer bearing this label should be "above the ordinary"  and represent an "elevation of style" -- both of which I'd say hit the nail on the head.

Kona Pipeline Porter

Kona Brewing Company Pipeline Porter: Kona, HI

Kona Brewing Co.’s Pipeline Porter, brewed with island-grown, fresh-roasted coffee, is right in my road house – H₂O aside, my consumption of beer is rivaled only by that of coffee, and I like to fancy myself a connoisseur of both. (If that last sentence confuses you, you should know that 1) I’ve renamed my “wheelhouse” in honor of Patrick Swayze’s 1989 masterpiece, and 2) I italicized connoisseur because it looks a little more pretentious that way.)

The blessed marriage of roasted malts and Kona coffee (“Kona” is the name of the moku, or district, on the Big Island where Kona coffee is grown and Kona Brewing is located) results in a medium-bodied, espresso-colored ale topped by a dark-tan, well-laced head. The aroma is of dark-chocolate-covered coffee beans with a hint of campfire smoke. The flavor is pretty mellow, some sweetened coffee at the forefront followed by a touch of burnt popcorn. There isn’t any noticeable hop character in the aroma or flavor, but a little bit of bitterness at the end helps to balance what is essentially a pretty sweet beer (sweet in the literal sense but also sweet like Road House is). The carbonation is a little high and the mouthfeel a little light for me, but you can’t say it’s not drinkable. (Well, you can say that, but I would not be in agreement.)

This is definitely not a big beer (5.4 percent ABV), and like Kona’s other beers, it eschews big, dense flavors in favor of crowd-pleasing, clean drinkability. If you like your coffee strong (like Swayze) and black (definitely not like Swayze), Pipeline may not be exactly what you have in mind. That being said, the coffee really is beautifully used – you know it's there, but it’s not overbearing or astringent. You won’t need a first-rate cooler like Dalton to clean this beer up – it’s pretty nice as-is.

Boulevard Bob's '47 Oktoberfest

Boulevard Brewing Bob's '47 Oktoberfest: Kansas City, MO

Boulevard's Bob's '47 is a real looker. It pours a glimmering, gleaming, clear amber-russet color with a white, creamy head that dissipates rather quickly. Endless streams of tiny bubbles rise up from the bottom of the glass as you drink, as if Bob himself is doing a chicken dance in your cup. The aroma, however, is a bit less striking. It's like that prom date that was a perfect 10 -- in looks and IQ. (You can't have it all.)

You can see Bob's chicken dance going on here.

Okay, okay, Bob's '47 smells pretty decent, but the aroma is subtle, reminiscent of apple cider with a bit of cloves and earthy “noble” hops thrown in (noble hops are the old-school European varieties, much less bitter than American hops). A bit of alcohol and other un-pick-out-able spice shows up in the nose as well.

The beer's flavor is very satisfying and just damn refreshing -- like if the intellectually challenged hot chick was a really good volleyball player, too. Bob's is certainly malt-focused, as these dark German lagers should be, but a substantial balancing bite from the hops aids drinkability in a serious way. There is just a hint of raisins on the tongue, and maybe nuts, and maybe grapefruit, as well as some subtle apple flavors. The finish brings throaty spice and grassy hops – Bob's is definitely hoppier than many Oktoberfests I've had, but it’s welcome here.

Overall, Bob's '47 is smooth, crisp and cleaner than a Will Smith "hip-hop" record. It's  a fairly straightforward session beer, but for football season, it's a great step up from American lagers. If you have the defective gene that makes you paint your chest and go to games shirtless, you’ll appreciate the somewhat fuller body, comforting toasty flavors and slightly higher alcohol content when that nipple-hardening autumn breeze starts a-blowing.

Oktoberfest beers are meant to be drank. Bob's '47 is a tasty little number that you could quaff by the boot-full, and it would go great with dinner – schnitzel, pretzels and sausage, obviously, though roasted chicken or even a cheeseburger would do well in a pinch, too.

Allagash Tripel

Allagash Tripel Reserve: Portland, ME

Oh, the ever-elusive Allagash. Long have I pined for a taste of beer from this magical Maine brewery, whose beer is distributed in 20 states but none nearly close enough to Colorado. In fact, so long did I pine for Allagash that when I picked up a few bottles in Georgia at the beginning of July, I couldn’t bring myself to open one until tonight, a little more than two months later.

The “one” (yes, think Neo) that I opened is the Tripel Reserve, Allagash’s take on a Belgian tripel, a light-colored, high-alcohol style brimming with fruity esters and spicy phenols. (As a side note, the “Tripel Reserve” is the same beer as the brewery’s “Tripel Ale,” except that it comes in a corked, 750-ml bottle instead of a six-pack. It's true that the big, corked bottles are more fun to reserve, but you can cellar the little ones, too.)

This tripel pops and pours like a champagne, with a HUGE head of the tiny-bubble variety that leaves super-sticky lacing on the inner walls of the glass. The beer is pale gold in color (just a shade darker than champagne) with aromas of honey, pepper and arugula. The somewhat subdued nose gives way to a big, purdy, smooth taste. 9 percent alcohol? Nonsense!

Medium-bodied with an effervescent but notably creamy mouthfeel, Tripel Reserve packs flavors of apple juice, bananas, honey and grains of paradise. The beer is agile but big; complex and savor-able with a hit of spice in the back of the throat on the long finish. It’s a beautiful, seductive beer, so much more drinkable than most tripels I’ve had and perhaps the most drinkable one I’ve had. (Dr. Butzen says: Tripels get their drinkability from the use of sugar as an adjunct, which adds alcohol without adding body, and from high carbonation, which helps bring out complex flavors and makes the beer taste more ”dry.”)

One of the things that most piqued my interest about Allagash Brewing Co. is what it’s doing with spontaneous fermentation, using a coolship and Maine’s natural, wild yeasts to ferment lambic-style beers in the Belgian tradition. While I couldn’t find one of those “wild” ales to bring back to Colorado, this Tripel Reserve is a pretty heady nod to Belgian tradition itself. These guys nailed it, and I’m sure the bottle of Dubbel I’ve got from them won’t get a chance to age much longer. This is one of the first breweries I’m going to seek out at the Great American Beer Fest in two weeks, and if you can find their beers in your area, I recommend seeking some out, like, today.

New Belgium Abbey Grand Cru

New Belgium Lips of Faith Abbey Grand Cru: Fort Collins, CO

Many self-professed “big beer nerds” have gotten good and practiced at dismissing New Belgium Brewing as too mainstream and not “craft”-y enough for their liking. After all, they don’t make a double IPA, or an imperial stout, or a barleywine, or any beers brewed with chocolate-covered grasshopper droppings and ground pygmy boar tusks. Furthermore, I am one of many who, despite Fat Tire being my entry point into craft beer more than 10 years ago, doesn’t ever drink it anymore. (That’s right – I was 16 when I tried Fat Tire. I had a cool mom.)

“Steal” yourself one or two of these.

If these arguments don’t sound like good enough reasons to dismiss New Belgium, well, they’re not. It’s called New Belgium, not New Southern California. You don’t have to drink Fat Tire or Sunshine if those beers are too mainstream and not extreme enough for you, but it’d be foolhardy to miss out on the brewery’s big, beautiful Belgians like the Abbey Grand Cru.

New Belgium’s regular, six-packed Abbey is one of the best – and most affordable – Belgian-style ales made in this country, as well as a personal favorite. (I also count among the best the brewery’s Trippel and the unparalleled La Folie.) The Abbey Grand Cru is an amped-up version of the Abbey (a Belgian dubbel) brewed on the occasion of every 1,000th batch of Abbey and packaged in painted bombers. It’s about as impressive as expected.

The beer pours a clear ruby-mahogany with an airy, white head, smooth (not sticky) with very intricate lacing. I pick up dates, plantains, Bubble Yum, pumpkin pie spice and grass in the nose, with a hit of clean alcohol. The body is medium with a syrupy slant, and it shows off its 9.5 percent alcohol with a little burn on the way out. The somewhat complex but clean flavor doesn’t have a lot of surprises after smelling it – cloves, Dubble Bubble, a bit of dark fruit and a reminiscence of root beer or sarsaparilla. Spicy but smooth, understated and elegant. I’m looking forward to drinking the other bottle I bought in a year or two – with the alcohol mellowed out a tad, I think I would enjoy this even more.

I paid $6.49 plus tax for this bottle, which was bottled on March 16 of this year. I would gladly pay more for it, and I’m pretty cheap – at this price, Abbey Grand Cru is a welcome steal. I recommend figuratively stealing yourself one.