Hitachino Nest | Owl Beer

Fact: Purchasing anything associated with an owl is one of the better choices you could make in life.  

Chuck Klosterman knew this when he authored Downtown Owl: A Novel.  Maybe Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs would have sold better if it were retitled Sexy Owls, Owls, and Cocoa Owls.  Here are some reasons why owls are better than your pet:

1. Owls possess keen intellect.  Need I remind you of that old-school Tootsie Pop commercial?

Boy:  Mr. Owl, how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?

Mr. Owl:  A good question.  Let's find out.  A one... A two-HOO... A three...

(crunch sound effect)

Mr Owl:  A three!

Boy:  If there's anything I can't stand, it's a smart owl.

Better not sass that owl, boy.

2. Owls are environmentally friendly. We all remember Woodsy Owl and his motto, "Give a hoot, don't pollute," right?  Woodsy was ready to cut someone if he saw some pollution going down.  That owl didn't take no mess!

3. Hitachino Nest Beer.  Hitachino Nest is quality not because they utilize an owl logo, but because owls happen to endorse pretty good beer.  Also, because Hitachino Nest is toasting the current Japanese beer market with flavorful brews.

4. It would be remiss if I failed to mention the obvious influence that owls had on the band Owls, comprised of brothers Tim and Mike Kinsella (Chicago legends in their own right (not to be confused with The Owls, and definitely not Owl City <--weak sauce)).

5. Hitachino Nest Beer. Again.

 When one thinks of Japanese beers, brands like Asahi, Sapporo, and Kirin may come to mind.  While these brands have one or two exceptions, the majority of their product lines leave much to be desired in the flavor department.  Despite these mega-brewers, a small craft movement has been sprouting up in Japan over the past 15 (roughly) years.  Out of this movement stems Kiuchi Brewery, located in the Japanese town of Ibaraki.

Kiuchi Brewery boasts a flavorful portfolio of ales under the Hitachino Nest moniker.  Styles such as their White Ale, Pale Ale, Weizen, and Sweet Stout contribute some much-needed diversity among the Japanese imports at the liquor store.  Fortunately, Hitachino Nest has experienced enough success in the United States that an assortment of their 720 ml or 11.2 oz (mini owl) bottles can be found at said liquor store...if you live in/near Chicago...or Bloomington-Normal.  Do not fret, if you are a Rockford resident, there is one store that stocks one of the owl beers (you will find out later, it's the only way you will consider reading beyond this point).


White Ale | 5% abv | 11.2 oz. stubby bottle

An excellent example of a Belgian-style Witbier (white beer, white ale, Belgian wheat beer - they're all the same).  Pours a hazy golden-orange color with wispy foam.  Wheat beers tend to have a great deal of foam, while this one is a bit lacking, it is made up for in flavor.  Being bottle-conditioned and unfiltered, a cloudy appearance is normal for white ales.  Traditionally brewed with coriander and orange peel, Kiuchi interprets this style with the addition of nutmeg and orange juice, adding an underlying complexity to this owl beer.

In the glass, spice and peppery notes hit the nose with fresh citrus zest balancing out the overall aroma.  Bright orange and lemon zest strike the palate first, mixing with subtle hop flavor in the middle, then ending with an underlying wheat flavor and a pronounced spiciness from the coriander and nutmeg.  The addition of orange juice creates an exaggerated orange essence, compared to that of a traditional Belgian Wit, lingering well after the glass is empty.

One of my favorites. Seriously, I carved a Hitachino Nest O'Lantern last Halloween because of this beer.

 Artale Wine Co. in Rockford currently stocks this White Ale (in the mini bottle) along with other fine beers (and wines).  Another great example of a Belgian-style Witbier from a non-Belgian brewer: Allagash White - also only available at Artale Wine Co.

Sweet Stout | 4% abv | 11.2 oz. stubby bottle

Sweet stouts may also be labeled milk stouts, or cream stouts.  This British style gets its name from the addition of lactose to the brew, producing a creamier texture and sweeter flavor.  In this case, lactose makes up 10% of the beer's grain bill.

Pours jet black with a medium, tan head.  True opaqueness of color can be determined by holding the beer-filled glass up to a light source.  Most dark-colored beers will show some degree of ruby-colored hue around the glasses edges. This is one dark beer - absolutely zero ruby presence.

In the glass, medium-roast coffee aromas mixed with faint hops and raisins fill the nose.  Aromas or flavors of raisin are good indications that the beer was brewed using a portion of crystal malt.  Taste some raw crystal malt sometime - it is like eating crunchy raisins.

Unlike most sweet stouts, this owl beer has a lighter body than expected.  Sharp citrus, almost a sour-like sensation on the sides of the tongue, wakes up the palate - again, unexpected.  Medium hop flavor is detected in the middle along with sweet raisins.  The sweet stout finishes with a mix of coffee and chocolate while the milk sugar helps to counteract the bitterness.

Based on this experience, I had a difficult time agreeing that the liquid inside the glass was the style advertised on the label.  It was interesting, though, nonetheless.

Interested in trying some other sweet stouts?  I would highly recommend Dark Horse Too Cream Stout and Left Hand Milk Stout.


Brief notes on other Hitachino Nest beers

Weizen - The name refers to the German wheat beer style known for its banana and clove flavor produced from the yeast.  Hitachino Nest Weizen has a far less-pronounced banana/clove profile than the traditional, however, lemon/orange zest notes contribute a satisfying 'bright' quality to the beer.

Espresso Stout -  Not for the faint of heart.  Extremely assertive with harsh espresso flavor.  Probably made with real owls.  When life hands you Hitachino Nest Espresso Stout, you might be better off just eating the lemons.

Celebration Ale - Coriander, Orange Peel, Nutmeg, Cinnamon, Vanilla Beans.  Haven't tried it yet.  Looks better than Espresso Stout tastes.




In Conclusion...

Told you.


me drink beer. 

Samuel Adams Chocolate Bock 2008

As the snow outside falls harder than NBC's late night programming, I am sitting inside about to enjoy a Samuel Adams Chocolate Bock - Boston Beer Company's limited release beer that was matured on a bed of Bolivian cocoa.  A few things should be noted about this current situation: this 750 ml bottle of beer is almost two years old, and there is no one else here to share it with. Oh, it may or may not be 12:16 on a Tuesday afternoon.

I know little about Samuel Adams Chocolate Bock.  What I do know is that 1.) it is magically delicious.  Lucky Charms could only live up to their slogan if those tiny horseshoes and red balloons were drowning in a bowl of this chocolaty beer.  And 2.) it is suffering from a mind-boggling identity crisis.  More on number two later.

Having sampled this beer multiple times before, all in better states of freshness, I will admit that I was skeptical of this two-year-old bottle possessing anything in comparison to the quality of those previous bottles.  Why?  Well, like fine wine, fine beers can be aged, and some styles such as barley wines, imperial stouts, and Belgian strong ales are even intended to be aged.  Due to the preserving power of alcohol, generally, the higher the alcohol percentage, the longer the beer can stand up to prolonged aging.  Beers under the 7% alcohol by volume range, however, usually taste best when consumed as fresh as possible.  Chocolate Bock's moderate 5.5% ABV does not allow for much aging before succumbing to unpleasant off-flavors. Plus, the label on the back indicates that I should have enjoyed this beer by April 2009 for brewery fresh taste. Whoops.

Having last been released in 2008, tracking down a bottle of this beer has become like finding a gas station taquito that doesn't give you instant diarrhea.  Samuel Adams does not offer any information on when Chocolate Bock will be released again.  Some people claim it is released every three years, but I have not been able to find any official statement from the company to support this claim.

What I did find while scouring the world wide web net was some clown genius using the Chocolate Bock to make soap.  Now, as much as I like to completely make up facts, I'm being factual about this (Not making it up).  Remember when your mother used to wash out your mouth with soap for using bad language?  I don't - I was a fucking angel.  However, if I could travel back in time to when I was seven years old, I would unleash a healthy string of words so profane that the only viable recourse would be to wash my mouth out with that delicious, delicious soap.  In fact, skip the whole time travel jazz.  I will most likely purchase that Chocolate Bock soap and eat it - eat it real good.  Expect a beer and soap pairing next week (don't), but for now, it is all about the Chocolate Bock.

Attractively packaged, an ornate silver badge embossed with the namesake graces the embossed brown bottle.  Silver foil wrapping the neck hides the bottle cap.  Wisconsin brewery Sprecher utilized nearly the same design on their smaller barley wine bottle.

The bottle opens up immediately with the scent of milk chocolate.  The Chocolate Bock pours a deep brown color with an additional ruby hue as the glass is held to the light.  A vigorous pour yields a half-inch of beige foam comprised of tightly-packed bubbles.  The foam lasts only a minute before dissolving to a thin coating.

In the glass, a roasted stout-like aroma prevails alongside the mellow chocolate notes.  Subtle hop aroma begins to develop from being almost undetectable in the uncapped bottle.

With the first sip, flavors of roasted barley develop in the center, transitioning to milk chocolate and sweet honey towards the end.  The Chocolate Bock finishes clean with sweet chocolate flavors lingering for a minute.  This smooth, full-bodied beer relies heavily on its malt characteristic, therefore hop flavor is very low with only a tinge of bitterness.

The first glass was all that was needed to completely erase my skepticism.

The second and third glasses reveal slightly more complex characteristics.  Dark chocolate fills the nose accompanied by hints of vanilla, giving the second glass added depth in flavor and aroma.  An increase in liquid temperature can be attributed to these changes.  As the beer warms up in the glass, subtle flavors once masked by colder temperatures start to blossom, adding complexity to the Chocolate Bock.  Flavor and aroma further concentrate in the final glass, enhancing the bitter chocolate notes while still maintaining a smooth chocolate finish.

Samuel Adams lists Chocolate Bock as an 'extreme beer.'  While most of their extreme beers weigh in at alcohol levels ranging from 16 to 27% ABV, the term does not have to represent only beers with intense alcohol levels.  Chocolate Bock's extreme quality stems from its ability to showcase a complexity akin to that of an imperial stout while operating on a sufficiently lower alcohol level.


I'm no Sherlock Holmes, nor do I try to be (I'm looking at you, Downey Jr.), but Chocolate Bock is suffering from a major identity crisis in the marketing department.  The bottle manages to simultaneously contradict its own contents.  While the front label reads Chocolate Bock, the back label also reads Chocolate Bock and then immediately describes the beer as an, "Ale with cocoa and natural flavor."  Cocoa? True.  Natural flavor? Sure.  Ale? Fail.  Bock is a German-style dark lager, bottom-fermented using lager yeast.  Samuel Adams also confirms on their website that Chocolate Bock is fermented using a bottom-fermenting lager yeast.  Unlike lager, ale is top-fermented using (what else) ale yeast.  It is pretty hard to be two different things at the same time unless it is named Ru Paul.  I don't want to drink Ru Paul beer.  Is Ru Paul still alive?

That same website also claims that Chocolate Bock was first brewed in 2003.  It is interesting that the bottle cap boasts the beer winning a gold medal at an international beer competition in 2000.  I still have not been able to find any record of this beer winning an award earlier than the year 2004.  It may forever remain a mystery, like the group in Minnesota that put up the billboard of that one guy.

Alright, alright. I know that I am nerding out on a seemingly unimportant semantics issue, but it is the principle of the matter.  There is nothing wrong with expecting consistent quality from a brewery you respect, even if it does not have a direct impact on the flavor of the beer.  That goes for any kind of company.  Except for the company that makes those gas station taquitos.  They're garbage.

me drink beer.

Pairing: Duvel + Pear & Grana Padano

Time to tell secrets. You  may not have known this, but Duvel, grocery store pears, and Grana Padano is delicious in your mouth.

I will start with a little background. Duvel is a Belgian golden strong ale commonly available in either 11.2 ounce or 750 ml bottles at most grocery and liquor stores that have any self respect. Meaning "devil" in Flemish, Duvel certainly lives up to its name. Don't let its light golden color fool you, just because it shares the appearance of a 'light' beer does not mean it will taste like garbage water (no offense, garbage water). Ringing in at 8.5% ABV, this beer is one to sit back and enjoy...maybe with some pears and Grana Padano? This brings me to my next item.

Like Parmigiano Reggiano, Grana Padano is an Italian hard cheese but a little milder and less crumbly. Grana does tend to be slightly cheaper than Parmigiano, so although this cheese is not as commonly stocked in grocery stores, it is a good buy when found.

The idea of coupling Grana and pear with Duvel serves as both a contrast and compliment pairing. Because Duvel is a beer with minimal sweetness and a pronounced dry finish, the pear is an excellent compliment. I have always thought of Duvel as having a "green" flavor. In this case the term "green" conjures up ideas of Granny Smith apples, green grapes, pears, and African green pigeons - all things that are crisp with astringent qualities. These green flavors are actually achieved through the hops and yeast strain used in the brewing process. With its slight astringency from the peel, the pear really enhances the dry finish of this golden strong ale. The natural sugars found in the flesh of the pear heightens Duvel's delicate sweetness, a quality that can sometimes get lost in the beer's overall complexity.

It is time to talk about cheese. It has been scientifically proven that time is about 5:56 PM. I like to talk about cheese. In fact, a robust 63% of my day is spent talking about cheese (it's not). Grana Padano serves as a great contrast to the bright flavor of Duvel. As with most other cheeses, Grana is best eaten at room temperature, allowing its many flavors to develop. Straight-from-the-fridge temperatures restrict flavors in both beer and cheese. It is not uncommon for most beers to display a recommended serving temperature on the label. For those bottles that do not, just take the bottle out of the fridge about 15 minutes before serving. I digress...

Grana's buttery, salty characteristic helps counteract the assertive flavor of Duvel. Although cheese tends to coat the palate with fats and oils, the abundance of carbonation (which creates the fluffy, cloud-like foam head Duvel is famous for) helps clear the palate of those fats and oils, allowing Duvel's crisp "green" flavor to meld with the slight acidic tang of the Italian cheese. After all, Italian tang is the best kind of tang. I am 100% sure that does not make sense and roughly 42% sure you have even read this far.

Finally, if you were wondering how you could ever apply this pairing in the real world, I will tell you. Duvel is a great aperitif. Its higher alcohol percentage helps stimulate the appetite, and along with the pears and cheese, create a brilliant starter or first course when entertaining guests. Just don't tell them where you got the idea since everything you just read was 100% false. Bye.

P.S.
 You may pronounce Duvel as "Doo-velle." After pronouncing it this way, some person may try to tell you that Duvel is actually pronounced as "Doovl." In Belgium, the Flemish pronounce it "Doovl" and the French-speakers pronounce it "Doo-velle." Both are acceptable. After dishing up that hot slice of knowledge on the person, respectfully steal their wallet and max out their credit card on an ungodly amount of Duvel. But only do it respectfully, as you are trying to teach them a lesson.

me drink beer