“What
exit?” is a New Jersey thing, so it’s fitting that New Jersey’s largest craft
brewery, Flying Fish, has a whole series of beers devoted to New Jersey
Turnpike exits. For a brewery that has largely leaned on drinkable takes on traditional beer styles, the Exit series has been their opportunity to experiment with things that are a little more offbeat, almost always with a New Jersey twist.
Perhaps that's why it has also resulted in their very best beers.
Previously one-time beers only available in 750ml bottles, a
few of those Exit beers have now made their way to six-packs. Exit 16 is one of them, a beer that sounds odd when you name it but
one that tastes so right when you have it. This is a wild rice
Double IPA – and yes, it’s actually brewed with rice. If that brings to mind
tasteless macro lagers, set your fears aside. This is a complex yet utterly
drinkable beer that gives off aromas of citrus and tangerine, and drinks far
easier than an 8% IPA should drink. It has all the flavor of a great DoubleIPA, but with a softness on the palate that really makes it stand out, with subtle notes of brown grain behind the bright, orangy citrus. It's maybe
the second best thing to come out of Jersey (after pork roll, egg and cheese, of course).
If you love IPAs, you simply HAVE to try this.
Portions of this piece originally appeared in the Philadelphia Weekly and are reprinted here with permission.
It sounds ridiculous to someone who has never had the experience, but there are beers that can capture places and times in ways that few others things can.
Ever
step out onto a grassy field or fresh farmland and been invigorated by the
lush, clean, Earthy smell of the air? That’s Hennepin (a beer I have touched on before). It’s made by Ommegang,
America’s best brewers of Belgian styles – though that’s kind of cheating, what
with being owned by Duval and all – and it is one of the definitive examples of
the elusive saison style. Saison is a broad category, but the basics are that
they tend to be pale, musty, and have some herbal spice kick. This beer is
exactly that to perfection. Hennepin is effervescent but complex, easy drinking
but strong (7.7%), and so good it will leaving you pining for the glorious
taste of horse blanket … which sounds gross to most, but those of you who get
it, get it. And if you’re a city dweller who has never gotten out to the
country and can’t understand why “fresh farmland” is awesome, I’m sorry for
your loss
Almost all of this review was taken from the Philadelphia Weekly and is used here with permission.
Some beers are born of cults. I swear it.
I don’t know if Satanists or Pagans or
something are getting together in the woods each winter to bust cherries, but I
DO know that each winter they – and everyone else – are scrambling to get
Troegs’ The Mad Elf ale, which is the sort of beer you’d get if a bunch of
drunk Pagans brewed the most cherry-poppin’ beer they could imagine. That, and
the devil himself would have to have thought of adding honey to the mix, because the most evil things are also the most sweet, right?
So,
yeah. There is that.
Okay, I rammed the analogies into the ground. Fine. So just taste the beer. You’ll find yourself
struggling with the insane 11% ABV, even as you revel in the sweet sin
of this beer’s sweet, fruity nectar. Those nutty Troegs people, they know how
to do it, don’t they? How on Earth is a beer this big so devoid of alcohol burn?
Oh, and here’s a secret not many people know since folks
scoop this up every winter and drink it ASAP: this beer ages pretty well. If
you have a few bottles, don’t be shy about stashing them away for a few year, because it holds up well and mellows into a nice beer to have with a cigar on a cold night. Cheers!
Portions of this first appeared in the Philadelphia Weekly and are reused here with permission.
Oh, you big, big beers. How we love you.
There are a bunch
of different giants. Hill giants, frost giants, cloud giants, and of course,
storm giants. Each has different hit dice and abilities. I’m not sure why it is
important for you to know that when all you really need to know is, Victory’s
Storm King is big enough to stomp a village into dust.
With this beer,
Downington, PA’s favorite brewery proves that a massively complex beer doesn’t
have to cost you half a paycheck. Storm King is huge, but it's priced pretty nicely when you consider how well it stacks up against other beers its equal. Not only does this inky black, 9 percent beer
taste of rich chocolate, tobacco, licorice, and charred toffee, it also ages
beautifully.
Really, get a bottle, stash it away, and open it four years later.
You’ll be in love. Storm King is the biggest, boldest, best value for your
dollar when it comes to imperial stouts brewed in Pennsylvania. (I specify PA because to be honest, the best deal in imperial stouts is Imperial Russian Stout by Stone, a beer that is merely $6 a bomber but is better than most "limited" beers triple its price.) Your puny 1stlevel fighter doesn’t stand a chance.
Portions of this review were originally written for the Philadelphia Weekly and are reprinted here with permission,
I do love me some trips into beer history.
Before
there was Samuel Adams or Sierra Nevada or Dogfish Head or anyone in craft beer, there was Jack McAuliffe’s New Albion brewery,
the first craft brewery of the modern era. But in an era of bad canned lager made in dying regional breweries, America wasn’t ready.
New Albion opened
in 1976 and closed its doors in 1982, a whisper in terms of business. Their legacy, however, endures. In some ways they were the Velvet Underground of beer. Not many people drank them, but everyone who did started their own brewery. They influenced
countless others and helped introduce the idea that American beer can be hoppy, an approach that has all but come to define American craft beer.
Samuel Adams recreates New Albion's influential flagship with New Albion Ale, brewed with
the original recipe provided by McAuliffe himself. Considering how far craft
beer has come in the more than 30 years since New Albion folded, you’d expect
this to be pretty tame. You’d be wrong. It’s a bright, hoppy,
bitter-but-drinkable brew with an aroma that would not be out of place on
today’s shelves. Have to admit, I was a little surprised - and impressed. It’s a little taste of history, sure, but if you don’t care about
history then just look at it as a taste of something good. Because it is
Portions of this piece originally appeared in the Philadelphia Weekly and are repeated here with permission.
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