ON THE AVENUES: Anything except common, that Kentucky Common.

I'm cross-posting this weekend. The article offered here about Kentucky Common beer is something I'd planned on sharpening for use in my print-edition Food & Dining Magazine beer column (and still might), but I'd reserved a keg of Falls City Kentucky Common, received it, and need to make a tout.

Pints&union is open Friday and Saturday for now, probably until the second week of July, when hours will expand as we "reopen." Those details can wait. Until then, and I'll be candid, those of our adherents who'd like to further the cause -- and help us survive a bit longer -- should allocate a bit of their discretionary income to buy a meal and a growler.

Here's some more honesty: While others in town pretend neither the pandemic nor a resurgent Black Lives Matter movement ever happened, Joe Phillips has run toward every damn fire he's seen the past three months. While so many others in the local restaurant business were whining about science ("but I don't WANT to believe it") and doubling down on their distaste for essential social justice, Joe was feeding people, helping people and getting involved with people to further their causes.

If you don't approve of reality in this sense, then maybe you weren't a customer in the first place. If you do, and you were -- and are, and wish to be still -- then please think about coming down and spending a few bucks.

Thank you. And now, Kentucky Common.

Anything except common, that Kentucky Common.

In a narrow sense, bourbon is distilled beer. It’s a fermented mash of grain with no hops or spices added, destined for a very different outcome.

But this very analogy confuses the specific with the general. By definition, bourbon is a particular type of whiskey native to Kentucky, while Louisville’s craft breweries produce many varied types (or styles) of beer, ranging from India Pale Ale (ale) to Bohemian Pilsner (lager), encompassing numerous (limitless?) flavor profiles.

What most beer drinkers in metropolitan Louisville probably don’t know is that one style of beer is indigenous to the state of Kentucky. It’s as specific to the wider world of beer as bourbon is to whiskey, and it likely was the single biggest-selling type of beer in the city of Louisville 125 years ago.

It is known as Kentucky Common, and ironically -- perhaps even obtusely -- it’s a style not often brewed these days by breweries located in city or state.

Therein lies a story.

First, allow me to begin with the conclusion: Starting on Friday, June 19 at Pints&union, we’ll have a keg of Falls City’s Kentucky Common for $12 growler fills, curbside. Call (812) 913-4647 or visit the order portal after 4:00 p.m. on June 19th and 20th, and also on coming weekends until we reopen in July, date TBA.

Note also that Falls City Bock, a superlative dark lager and one of the finest American-style Bocks to hit my lips in a good while, still is available in growlers at the same price. Don’t force me to drain this keg all by myself, people.

Now I’ll explain to you why the commonality of history matters, and why I personally enjoy Falls City Kentucky Common so much.

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Prior to the contemporary craft beer era, most North American beers were brewed according to the broad parameters of styles that originated in Europe and were brought here by immigrants. Almost all of these styles came from the British Isles (in colonial times) or Germany and Central Europe (from the 1840s, on). Recall that “microbrewing” began only in the 1970s, and didn’t reach any semblance of critical mass until the late 1990s.

While brewers from Europe may have come to the United States with traditional recipes in mind, they often found that it was necessary to adapt to New World realities. Perhaps the most noted example of this shift came with lager beers in general, and Pilsners in particular.

Transplanted German brewers were compelled to adjust their thinking to suit climactic conditions and the raw materials at hand, particularly six-row barley as the malt backbone of their beers. Now, 150 years later, we can see that German and Bohemian Pilsners and their American cousins, pre-Prohibition “adjunct” Pilsners, are two separate branches of the same tree.

In like fashion, what we now refer to as “California Common” (or Steam, which is a term copyrighted by Anchor Brewing) reflects a hybrid brewing approach dating to Gold Rush times. Another uniquely American style is “Cream Ale,” which most of us of a certain age always will associate with Little Kings from Cincinnati. Cream Ales came about because 19th-century breweries specializing in top-fermented ale styles (the British tradition) sought a counterweight to increasingly popular German-sourced golden Pilsners.

Kentucky Common fits this paradigm. Here’s a bit of history of which you might be unaware, courtesy of the Beer Judge Certification Program.

A true American original style, Kentucky Common was almost exclusively produced and sold around the Louisville Kentucky metropolitan area from some time after the Civil War up to Prohibition. Its hallmark was that it was inexpensive and quickly produced, typically 6 to 8 days from mash to delivery. The beer was racked into barrels while actively fermenting (1.020 – 1.022) and tightly bunged to allow carbonation in the saloon cellar. There is some speculation that it was a variant of the lighter common or cream ale produced throughout much of the East prior to the Civil War and that the darker grains were added by the mostly Germanic brewers to help acidify the typical carbonate water of the Louisville area. Up until the late 19th century, Kentucky Common was not brewed in the summer months unless cellars, usually used for malting, were used for fermentation. With the advent of ice machines, the larger breweries were able to brew year round. In the period from 1900 to prohibition, about 75% of the beer sold in the Louisville area was Kentucky Common.

In its heyday, Kentucky Common would have been a localized example of “present use” beer, brewed in 6 – 8 days, low in alcohol content, delivered to taverns while still young and intended to be finishing its fermentation in the wooden barrel when first tapped. Kentucky Common was consumed quickly at a low price point.

This is why accounts of the period refer to Kentucky Common as being the working man’s choice. Rushing the growler in Louisville in the year 1900 meant sending one of your kids to fetch a (literal) bucket of beer from the neighborhood watering hole for pennies – and the liquid in the pail probably was Kentucky Common.

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The typical grist for a Kentucky Common might have been 65% six-row barley, 30% corn, and 5% dark malt enough to resolve the brewer’s chemistry issues and give the finished product an amber to light brown appearance (Falls City uses rye).

Hopping was minimal, with American hop varieties used for bittering and just a pinch of aromatic (and more expensive) imported German hops at the end of the boil. Brewers likely used an aggressive house ale yeast to jump start the fermentation. Ingredients and techniques for making Pilsner were reserved for Pilsner, often the higher-priced “special occasion” beer.

There’d have been as many different interpretations of Kentucky (and Southern Indiana) Common, riffing off this basic model, as there were brewers-- several dozen in the metro at local brewing’s acme in the 1890s.

Today, the modern version brewed at Falls City might be the city’s most unique beer simply because no one else in town regularly brews an “Amber Cream Ale.” Exceptions include Apocalypse (brewer Leah Dienes helped write the official style definition), Old Louisville and Against the Grain, but availability isn’t year-round at those establishments. Seldom can we find a beer for direct comparison in terms of flavor profile.

Falls City Kentucky Common has an amber hue and looks a bit like a Dos Equis, but the resemblance ends there. It’s malty, not hoppy, with a bready flavor touched by caramel. The rye peeks through, adding complexity. The body is light, and there is hint of fruitiness. You’ll notice an element of sweetness derived from the use of corn as an adjunct; it’s something most mass market Louisville beer drinkers wouldn’t notice because it’s generally present in Miller and Coors products (less so AB-InBev).

I like Falls City Kentucky Common for what it is: a solid summertime quencher with enough beeriness to maintain interest, and to pair with assertive food.

Providentially, Pints&union is working with Freedom Run Farms via the LEE Initiative’s Restaurant Reboot Relief Program and we’ll be featuring lamb dishes, and my guess is the Kentucky Common will go nicely with these.

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Recent columns:

June 11: ON THE AVENUES: Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger.

June 4: ON THE AVENUES: There, there. People are dying, so you may have to wait until 2021 for your pork chop sandwich.

May 28: ON THE AVENUES: The late, great Lee Kelly -- by Matt Nash.

May 21: ON THE AVENUES: Godlessness in defense of heathens, infidels, idolaters, atheists, non-theists, irreligious people, agnostics, skeptics, heretics and apostates.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Pints&union beer list theory and practice.

It is heartening to know that many of you are eager to have a beer at the pub. The Indiana Alcohol & Tobacco Commission (ATC) permit waiting game has commenced, and at some point in the next few days, the license should emerge from escrow.

When it does, Pints&union will open for business. For those just tuning in:

Pints&union is a progressively Old World public house in downtown New Albany, featuring small plates, classic cocktails and comfort beers, with counter service only.

Owner Joe Phillips' plan for Pints&union has continued to evolve since we first began brainstorming. There will be food, cocktails, wine and an old-school pub atmosphere. There won't be television. When I dropped by there yesterday, Joe had Blur and Liam Gallagher playing on the sound system, though not simultaneously.

Of course, even monks clinging to Tibetan mountainsides know that my personal contribution to Pints&union is the beer program, which is why I typically have less to say about the other aspects of the pub. Beer has been my life, and I'm thankful to Joe for the opportunity to reformat the better beer experience for another generation of pub-goers.

My primary mission with the beer program at Pints&union is to emphasize beer fundamentals, rediscover timeless beer virtues, and explore the many possibilities of beer -- albeit slowly and meticulously, not at warp speed.

• comfort beers (tip of the hat to Joe Stange)
• forgotten classics (credit Andy Crouch)
• golden (and red, and brown, and black) beer oldies
• throwback beers
• greatest beer hits of the 1300s through the 1900s (and a few others)

Hovering always in the background of my beer consciousness is a recognition that much of my professional career in beer and brewing has been devoted to assisting in the creation and furtherance of "good beer bar" templates in what now would be considered a contemporary sense.

I'm proud of this and I'll always love what we've achieved, but it must be conceded that in my rapidly approaching dotage (I'll be 58 years old in two weeks), contrarianism is king. When the pendulum swings too far in one direction, it's time for a correction.

Kaleidoscopes, tilt-a-whirls, merry-go-rounds, spinning hamster wheels, coin flips, the shuffling of decks, revolving doors, and pin-the-tail-on-the-rotating taps no longer enamor me. More power to the practitioners and their fans. I seek only to animate a slower-paced, thoughtful and more contemplative alternative.

At Pints&union, the beer list will provide an opportunity to think outside the current box by going back to the egg.

Subject to last minute changes, there'll be roughly 36 choices on the beer list when Pints&union opens. At least seven of these will be on draft, five permanent and two seasonal. It may be possible to sneak a sixth barrel into one of the keg boxes.

My beginning aim is to offer around 30 everyday bottles/cans; in terms of styles and sub-styles in a rough Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) approximation, I'd say there'll be at least 20 different styles represented and possibly as many as 25 or 26 (including drafts), depending on today's coin flip barometer for such distinctions.

The list of bottles and cans will be expanded as we grow, with an ultimate destination of 50. The Belgian ale component will be significant. When all is said, done and stocked, IPAs will number four, maybe five ... total. That's all. There'll be hops, but in context. The goal is a high-quality short list embracing history and stylistic diversity, with little turnover and a relatively fixed selection.

Seasonal and one-off beers won't be neglected. My theory is that when a thoughtful balance between daily undertow and occasional treats is restored, so will the very definition of "special." That's because when everything is special, nothing is.

To me, the best part of it to me is that within a few blocks of Pints&union in downtown New Albany are numerous other establishments with probably another 125 draft lines (or more), as well as countless bottles and cans. There's something for everyone, beer-related or otherwise.

Family-owned and -operated small indie businesses are responsible for every last bit of this growth, and it's a delightful culmination of sorts for all of us who spent time and money to fill the downtown doughnut hole.

Pints&union will be another of these establishments. It's a small building, and Joe has a big heart -- and, as the guy tending the beer, I understand the business must live within its means. There cannot possibly be an expansive beer selection like the one at the Public House, Holy Grale, Sergio's or HopCat.

Spatial reality lends itself to intelligent selection, and incorporating my beer and brewing experience, this is what I intend to achieve. I hope to be seeing you soon.

BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: Anchor Porter is delicious. Just don't expect a firm answer as to how it differs from Stout.

Last week I bought a six-pack of Anchor Porter in bottles -- for research purposes only, mind you.

It's been a while, and I regret this.

Anchor Porter is black and rich, firmly hopped (circa 40 IBUs) with plenty of malty underpinnings. I'm getting chocolate, espresso, toffee and a hint of licorice in my mouth, and I'm struck by a vestige of similarity with some Baltic-style Porters I've had in the past -- albeit at a gentler ABV.

Of course, your own experiences may vary. Try as we might to quantify flavors, we all taste life (and beer) slightly differently.

These days, Anchor Porter falls into a category of classification not unlike rock and roll bands of a certain generation. It's a heritage craft beer, or maybe a legacy craft beer. In the context of the American beer revival, any beer first brewed in 1972 -- when there were maybe 100 operational breweries in the United States -- might as well have originated in 1492. 

At Pints&union, it is my aim to showcase excellent beers like Anchor Porter, which now find themselves crowed off shelves and taps by the tsunami of 6,000+ breweries seeking an outlet.

I'm going to try keeping Anchor Porter on tap all of the time, because if you like Porter (or, for that matter, the closely related Stouts), then you're going to like this one. I suspect that supply might prove to be more of a challenge than depletion.

As for the differences between Porter and Stout, it's one of the hardest beer questions to answer. Bob Brewer writes:

I’m reminded of the time some years ago when I discussed this very same topic with the late Michael Jackson. The beer guy Michael Jackson, that is. We were well into a lengthy sampling of rare single malts when the conversation came around to the stout / porter issue. I asked for a simple clarification of the stylistic difference because I considered it to be one of the more confused and ill-defined. Michael’s reply was that it was actually the MOST confused and ill-defined. He furthermore stated that even the best-researched and well-intended writings on the subject were “as unambiguous as a horoscope.” I took the master at his word and we ordered another round.

Ron Pattison's definition is far more detailed. He debunks the myths and discusses the practice of parti-gyling ("getting every last bit of goodness from the malt").

“What’s the difference between a porter and a stout?”

Roasted barley. That’s the usual explanation of what separates porter and stout. Unfortunately that story is total bollocks. The true tale is more complicated, more confusing and much more fun.

Let’s go back to their childhood. Eighteenth-century London with its elegant squares, gin and the birth of industrial-scale brewing. Something that could only have happened in London. Pre-powered transport moving large quantities of beer overland was impractical and expensive. London was the only city in the world with the critical mass of beer drinkers to power an industrial brewing reactor.

The story of porter—the first style to span the world—is one of technology, innovation and taxation. And war ...

Does this make it any easier?

To me, Pints&union offers a chance to start over. We'll join together to drink Porters and Stouts, and then reach our own conclusions. The pub remains a couple of weeks away from opening, but until then, here's a pleasant, short video from Anchor about the brewery's Porter. 

It makes me thirsty. As Jackson always said, the search for the perfect pint should last a lifetime. 

THE BEER BEAT: "Bock brings the Germans rushing to the beer garden."

In the USA: on the Bock imagery of goats.

Doppelbock is the perfect example of a seasonal beer style redolent of history and faraway places, and yet deemed insufficiently sexy for narcissistic, hop-laden, shoe-gazing geeks.

No bitterness in this soul, mind you.

There actually was a Bock Fest in NuLu yesterday, and maybe I should have gone over and taken stock, but after being in Munich 20-odd years ago during Starkbierzeit (strong beer time) ... well, you know.

It might not be the same, although I commend the organizers for furthering Bock recognition in Louisville.

Apart from every other consideration, and whether one prefers malty or bitter, it is the seasonal nature of Doppelbock that we found enticing during the dawning age of better beer consciousness. Celebrator and Salvator were available during the warm weather months, but who wants to drink them in July?

Summertime was, and remains, intended for Bavarian-style wheat ale.

Even before the inception of Gravity Head, we'd time the arrival of draft Doppelbocks at the Public House for the Lenten season, as in Bavaria. More often than not, is was still chilly outside. In a word, ideal.

At Pints & Union, we'll keep a bottled version of Doppelbock (as well as Hefeweizen) year-round, but there'll be only two spare faucets for rotating drafts, and these will be scheduled to pour as we used to do it, traditionally and seasonally.

No one ever described the theory and practice of Doppelbock quite as wonderfully as the late Beer Hunter, Michael Jackson. This piece is from 1998.

Bock brings the Germans rushing to the beer garden

After the dark months of winter, the Bavarians are now venturing cautiously into their beloved beer gardens, even though the weather is not yet reliably warm enough to ensure comfort.

They can always give themselves a little central heating with a Bock Beer. In Germany, this is a brewery's strongest beer, unless - as is often the case - it also has a "double" Bock.

Both variations are seasonal specialties for cool weather, and the Doppelbocks are especially associated with Lent. Extra-strong beers were originally made at this time of year by monastic breweries as "liquid bread" to see the brothers through the weeks when their diet forbade not only meat but also fish.

The notion of beer as liquid bread is not fanciful. In the dawn of civilisation, bread was baked as a raw material for brewing and in some corners of the world "traditional beers" are still something of an alcoholic porridge.

A rich, malty beer like a Doppelbock is quite filling and does not, like the lighter, hoppier styles, further arouse the appetite ...

THE BEER BEAT: The La Chasse-Dauntless beer dinner menu is released, Porter versus Stout, and other beery odds and ends.

Let's begin with an updated second reminder of the Dauntless Distributing beer dinner coming to the acclaimed La Chasse restaurant in Louisville on Monday, December 11.

La Chasse is Isaac Fox's restaurant. New Albanian old-timers will remember Isaac from Bistro New Albany and Speakeasy.

The dinner at La Chasse will feature beers from Dauntless Distributing, which brings some of the planet's finest brands into Kentucky, as well as handling Louisville brewers Against the Grain, Monnik and Akasha. Two NABC alums work for Dauntless: Richard Atnip and Kevin Lowber.

Menu, beers and other relevant details have just appeared on Facebook, and I'd love to see a solid contingent of friends and fellow travelers in attendance. Aside from the beer angle, you owe it to yourself to have a meal at La Chasse, because it is a splendid table.

La Chasse Craft Beer Dinner (with Dauntless Distributing)
Date: Monday, Dec. 11th
Time: 7:00 PM
Cost: $70 Per Person*
Reservations: 502.822.3963

MENU:

First Course: Confit of Chicken with Bourbon barrel-aged smoked peppercorn hot sauce, bleu cheese aioli and chicken skin cracklings
➤ Paired with: Au Baron Cuvee des Jonquilles (Biere de Garde) ... France

Second Course: Brie Beer Cheese Bisque with pickled blackberries
➤ Paired with: Central State Rose (Rustic blonde ale with raspberries) ... Indiana

Third Course: Sautéed Prince Edward Island Mussels in limoncello Maitre d’Hotel butter and crispy pancetta
➤ Paired with: Anchorage Love Buzz Saison (Spiced ale aged in French pinot noir barrels) ... Alaska

Fourth Course: Porter Braised Short Ribs over white cheddar polenta with thyme roasted carrots
➤ Paired with: Nogne O Porter (Porter) ... Norway

Fifth Course: Honey and Ale Spiced Banana Cake with chocolate ganache
➤ Paired with: Kerkom Bink Bloesem (Belgian Ale brewed with pear syrup and honey) ... Belgium

Executive Chef Andrew Welenken
Chef de Cuisine Kristina Dyer

*Exclusive of Tax and Gratuity

Also in Louisville, there's be a third outpost of Against the Grain just yards away from Sunergos Coffee, Nord's Bakery and Zanzabar.

Against The Grain plans microbrewery, beer garden at 'Swiss Hall' property, by Chris Otts (WDRB-41)

Louisville craft brewery Against The Grain plans to turn the Swiss Hall property in the St. Joseph neighborhood into a microbrewery, beer garden and venue for events and concerts.

Against The Grain has the property at 719 Lynn Street under contract pending a rezoning, according to Sam Cruz, one of the partners in the brewery.

It would be the fast-growing brewery’s third location. Against The Grain plans to keep its brewery and smokehouse at Slugger Field and its production facility in Portland, Cruz said.

Far better AtG at Swiss Hall than Swill Hall.

It's been a while since I featured a rant by Steve Foolbody, so the time is right to compensate.

RANT(S): One Beer, One Whiskey, and One Can O’ Whoop-Ass (The Pour Fool)

Nutshell: Pick Your Battles, learn a bit about American Economics 101, research these corporate partners before you climb aboard the Crazy Train. Please. These endless, clueless, feckless cries of “Sell Out!” just waste time and are, frankly, embarrassing for those of us have a Clue and share this culture.

 ... Rant, The First: The news broke, earlier this week, that Avery Brewing of Boulder, Colorado, had taken on the big Spanish beverage maker, Mahou San Miguel, as a partner and people all over the Brewniverse started freaking out. The great Denver magazine, Westword, ran a post in their online edition entitled, “Does “Craft Beer” Definition Go Down the Drain With the Avery Brewing Sale?” ...

 ... I read response after response accusing Avery of selling out; calling Adam Avery a greedhead and a fascist (my favorite)and questioning his values, his manhood, his parentage, his penile girth, and his hat size, all because he brought in a PARTNER – not a buyer or a sugar daddy or a new ownership – to help his company grow. In choosing San Miguel, in fact, Avery showed his respect for his culture, by hooking up with a company which is NOT, unlike AB, trying daily to destroy or at least control the craft beer community.

TRY to get this straight: The ONLY corporate interest about which you need to have ANY worries as a buyer or partner of a craft brewery is Anheuser Busch, aka AB/InBev. PERIOD. They are the only corporation on the face of the planet which combines the toxic mix of the arrogance to truly believe that we don’t need and shouldn’t be allowed to have any choices available to us in beer with the arrogance and deep enough pockets to think that they can really, literally set about pursuing a strategy that will force all of us who drink craft beer back into being just peachy with a lifetime of mindlessly, soullessly swilling tepid, watery adjunct lagers and nothing else.

I've underlined the passage that best reflects my own point of view. What's yours?

We haven't had many chilly days this fall and early winter, but about a month ago stouts and porters started tasting good.

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PORTER AND STOUT?, by Ron Pattinson (All About Beer Magazine)

“What’s the difference between a porter and a stout?”

Roasted barley. That’s the usual explanation of what separates porter and stout. Unfortunately that story is total bollocks. The true tale is more complicated, more confusing and much more fun.

Let’s go back to their childhood. Eighteenth-century London with its elegant squares, gin and the birth of industrial-scale brewing. Something that could only have happened in London. Pre-powered transport moving large quantities of beer overland was impractical and expensive. London was the only city in the world with the critical mass of beer drinkers to power an industrial brewing reactor.

The story of porter—the first style to span the world—is one of technology, innovation and taxation. And war ...

It's a wonderful history lesson, leading here.

 ... That’s why they often parti-gyled their stouts with porter. You can probably see where this is going. The recipes for porter and stout were, by definition, identical, as they were brewed together.

Porter disappeared completely from the British Isles in the early 1970s when Guinness discontinued their version. But only for a few years. A couple re-appeared in the late 1970s and since then the style has made a small comeback, with beers like Fullers London Porter leading the way.

The difference between porter and stout? All stouts are types of porter. But not all porters are stouts. Only the stronger ones.

Martyn Cornell quotes Pattinson's research and arrives at a similar conclusion.

The answer to the question: "What's the difference between a stout and a porter" is that originally a stout was simply a strong version of porter: today the difference is whatever you want it to be.

To me, it's another variation on Justice Potter Stewart's thoughts about hardcore pornography: "I know it when I taste it," with more of the roasted malt character in a Stout and less in a Porter. I reserve the right to be contrarian while fully acknowledging those like Pattinson and Cornell, who are far more learned than me.

Anyway, if this is to be one of those questions defying resolution, at least there's considerable entertainment value in repeated taste tests of each style in pursuit of a lasting definition.

In turn, this brings us to an evocative new term: "pastry stout."

Wait ... it's a compliment, right?

Boom in sugary pastry stouts shows craft industry forgetting what beer tastes like, by Josh Noel (Chicago Tribune)

 ... After six hours wandering the aisles of the Festival of Wood and Barrel-Aged Beer last weekend, I have concluded that craft beer is betraying itself. It is forgetting what beer should taste like.

Though FOBAB, held this year at the University of Illinois at Chicago Forum on Friday and Saturday, remains Chicago’s most essential beer festival, corners of it have become a showcase for beer that tastes more like dessert than beer. “Pastry stouts,” the industry calls them.

Among the 376 beers poured at FOBAB this year, about 50 were pastry stouts, the largest share of the largest category at FOBAB.

Five years ago, among 194 beers, a measly six could be counted as pastry stouts. Back then, breweries were far more likely to age imperial stout in whiskey barrels to show the character of the beer they’d brewed and the barrels they’d secured. Today, those same beers are overrun with coffee, vanilla beans, coconut, cinnamon, chiles and cacao nibs.

So very many cacao nibs.

At this year’s FOBAB, there was beer named for cake (Barrel-Aged German Chocolate Cake), beer named for milkshakes (Bourbon Barrel Aged Supershake), beer named for cookies (Bourbon Barrel Aged Gingerbread Imperial Stout) and beer that didn’t bother specifying its form of sugary decadence (Beer Geek Mid-Day Dessert). Lil Beaver Brewery, of Bloomington, Ill., poured a beer it described as boasting “enough cacao nibs and toasted coconut to make you think you’re drinking a candy bar” ...

On Monday evening I stopped by The Exchange in New Albany and noticed Founders Canadian Breakfast Stout on the board, priced right where I'd expect such a rare beer to be (circa $14 for a 10-oz pour).

The bartender mentioned its presence, and I told him the most selfless thing I could possibly do was leave CBC alone so others could experience it.

Instead, I ordered a full $6 pour of Left Hand Sawtooth Ale, identified by the brewery as an Amber, but tagged by some other beer geek observers as an Extra Special Bitter.

It was delicious. I made the right choice.

Let there be options.

THE BEER BEAT: Remembering Michael Jackson and revising the beer tasting syllabus.

On August 23, I conducted a beer tasting (with yummy appetizers) at Mesa: A Collaborative Kitchen in New Albany.

THE BEER BEAT: Thanks to Mesa (A Collaborative Kitchen) for a great inaugural beer night.

It had been a while since I led a sampling that wasn't filled with NABC beers, these occasions having devolved somewhat into urgent (futile?) salesmanship as much as balanced education, so it seemed prudent to rethink the approaching evening in thematic terms.

Given the bewildering complexity of the beer world these days, what are the essential points, apart from information about the specific beer being sampled?

The brewing process, of course. Just the basics about ingredients and their use in the brewhouse, as would be offered on any brewery tour, without going into mind-numbing detail.

As a corollary, the difference between ales and lagers. Why the yeast and fermentation temperature matter, and how this played out over the history of brewing, especially in Central Europe when "lager" as we know it originated.

Local brewing history, or in our specific case, how those German lager brewers came here and recreated their world, with similarities and differences.

How these factors and so many more come together in terms of beer style, reflecting my fundamental belief that in a majority of cases, human beings must know the rules before they break them -- and, moreover, that familiarity with styles makes one a happier consumer.

In short, it's back to basics, both for me and anyone else who is interested in thinking a bit about where we've been, so as better to see where we're going, and toward this end I took my archival copy of Michael Jackson's original book The World Guide to Beer to the tasting and passed it around.

Most attendees hadn't ever seen it, and accordingly the book will be a staple at all future tastings.

The Mesa gig was on August 23. I knew the 10th anniversary of Jackson's passing was coming soon, but wasn't sure exactly when; while eating lunch at Brugge Brasserie on Wednesday, I glanced at my e-mail and saw the notification of Tom Acitelli's letter perfect tribute in All About Beer, linked here.

In fact, Acitelli's essay is a "must read" for anyone seeking the rounded, "whole beer" experience. Jackson was a memorable prose stylist, but moreover, he systematized a language of style that beer people speak every day without once reflecting about its origins. I think we need to know these origins.

You are commanded to click this link, now. Read first, drink beer later. I'm hoping to do another Mesa tasting in October, and I'll keep you posted.

REMEMBERING THE BARD OF BEER: WHY THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER MICHAEL JACKSON

 ... “If a brewer specifically has the intention of reproducing a classical beer, then he is working within a style.” That was Jackson toward the start of World Guide.

With a generation’s hindsight, it’s an unremarkable statement. But in 1977, it was positively revolutionary. Jackson was the first critic to write for a consumer audience about beer styles in much the same way that wine critics had long written of wine styles. Before Jackson, beers were fitted into “divisions,” “species,” “types,” “varieties” and “classes,” but never styles.

That etymological flourish by itself would have made his contribution to the beery canon memorable. But he spent the next three decades refining and expanding it, putting on quite an intellectual performance for a subject not used to the scrutiny.

The painter Bruegel might come up in a discussion of lambic, or topography in an examination of the origin of lager, or immigration in the rise of beer in the U.S. Throughout, too, Jackson dove into the technical nitty-gritty of Plato, IBU, ABV, etc., as well as the back stories of breweries and brewers, hop farmers and beer merchants.

THE BEER BEAT: Odds and ends from the month of May. I can't remember anything before that.

Why on earth did I keep the empty bottle?

Roughly a year ago, 18th Street's Sex and Candy was a very big deal. First, the backdrop.

(1 of 4) 18th Street's Sex and Candy, but first, the story of 18th Street Brewery.

(2 of 4) 18th Street's Sex and Candy, and how the "Twitter Fight Over Racy Indiana Beer Label Highlights Industry Sexism Concerns."

(3 of 4) 18th Street's Sex and Candy, and wondering, "What ... the Brewers Association (Is) Doing to Address Gender and Race?"

(4 of 4) 18th Street's Sex and Candy: "Your Sexism is Predictable and Boring, 18th Street Brewery."

Fast forward to a resolution of sorts.

18th Street Brewery Redesigns Sex & Candy Label, Calls for Progressive Dialogue Going Forward, by Dave Eisenberg (Good Beer Hunting)

Company founder and head brewer Drew Fox says the new artwork is not open to misreading. “We want to be part of something positive and not part of something that people see as negative or derogatory,” Fox says. “We know that the [new] imagery would not lead to any interpretation of being a sexist label or objectifying women.”

It's good by me. Any effective strategy for dealing with sexism in "craft" beer is likely to be incremental. We're talking attitudes, and these take time. Speaking of time, I'm a history nut, and "extinct" styles fascinate me.

A few beers no longer lost nor forgotten, by Stan Hieronymus (Appellation Beer)

 ... “Why do I want to taste extinct styles? On one level it’s purely from curiosity: how did it taste, what did it look like, how did it drink? All the things you can only really learn about a beer by having one in a glass in front of you. That simple need to know could be satisfied by a pint or two,” he says.

“But then there’s the cultural aspect. Beer styles—and especially those associated with a specific place—have a wider significance than just being a drink. Because every beer style is a unique cultural item. When one disappears, the culture it came from is diminished.”

Heaven knows for a time, we tried. Back in 2012, NABC's Ben Minton did a damned fine Grätzer/Grodziskie.

Grätzer/Grodziskie ... oak-smoked wheat session ale, coming soon to NABC.

Ben Minton will be brewing another new historical re-creation session beer this week. We recently acquired a small quantity of oak (eiche) smoked wheat malt for this beer. The beer will be 100% wheat, something we've never done here, and it will be a very hard beer to brew. If you see Ben pulling out his hair, this is why.

Ben's task may have been extreme, but the ale he produced was delicious. These are the things I miss, as well as not-quite-extinct lagers like Zwickelbier.

BEER OF THE MOMENT: SCHLAFLY WHITE LAGER, by Ken Weaver (All about Beer)

The Saint Louis Brewery
Schlafly White Lager
St. Louis, Missouri
Style: German-Style Zwickelbier
ABV: 5.5%

As the weather warms up and we’re assessing our go-to summer options, it’s our latest Beer of the Moment: a deftly structured German-style lager with firm hops and a hint of mint.

But why "White Lager"? Modern marketing sets the teeth to grinding, but then again, I'm old. At this juncture, it's always worth a few minutes of refreshing as to the fermentation dichotomy.

LAGERS VERSUS ALES, by Randy Mosher (All About Beer Magazine)

It is common to slice the beer world into two irreconcilable sectors. Lagers are the yin: cooling, clean and constrained; ales are the bold, brash, ebullient yang. When it comes to pairing with food, some have even made an analogy between white or red wines and lagers or ales. The mind seeks simplicity, so a trope like this may be useful for getting a grip on the bewilderingly diverse world of beer, but is there any truth to it?

From the joys of stylistic awareness, I close this installment with the messiness of sausage-making.

Lawmakers to pore over Indiana's 'archaic' alcohol laws this summer, by Kaitlin L Lange (C-J, Indy Star)

Indiana lawmakers will spend their summer poring over the state's complicated mixture of alcohol laws, following a heated legislative session debate this spring over which retailers should be allowed to sell cold beer.

Let the record show this column complete, with time to walk down to Floyd County Brewing Company for a nice, civilized holiday weekend Sunday beer.