Hi, Everybody!
One of the benefits of running a blog about beer is that periodically friends and acquaintances suggest that they would also like to drink beer and then write about it. In this particular case, a roommate of mine from university has chronicled his recent trip to Portland, Oregon. I’ll be posting this four part feature over the next couple of days, allowing myself a certain amount of time to recover from the near novel-length series of blog posts over the last four months.
Let’s all welcome Alex Nixon, my new Senior West Coast Correspondent:
I appreciate the opportunity to come here and talk about my trip to Portland, the Microbrew Capital of the World. I’m not a beer expert like Jordan. Sure, my tastebuds are trained; I’m a former Starbucks Coffee master and an amateur chef and baker. I can discern tasting notes. And as a former rugby player, I’ve certainly drank my share of beer. But, in spite of this lineage, I am a beer tasting neophyte.
I first met Jordan on the night of his 20th birthday. It was my frosh year, and I was a young 17 year old 6000 KM from home. He had a twelve pack of Alexander Keith’s and a bottle of Wiser’s. (Ed. Note: I have since developed something like taste) The beer was quickly opened, and I made the strategic decision to skip my dorm’s initiation for a different sort of initiation. Beer was drank and oaths were spoken. I’m not a fan of Keith’s (it’s a lager gussied up as an IPA), but I rarely have enjoyed beer more.
Beer is affected by the glassware it’s served in, by the travel conditions that the bottles and kegs endure, the temperature of the cooler, and how it’s poured. Should it be any surprise that its taste is affected by the environment that it is drunk in?
It is with that in mind that I will analyse the beers I drank on this trip. I had the opportunity to drink at the Rogue, Hair of the Dog, and Deschutes brewpubs. I drank their beer, ate their food, and enjoyed their hospitality. Going to the Big Three gave me a glimpse into the Portland beer culture. I experienced things that made me hopeful and endured things that were disconcerting. I came back with an appreciation for the city and concern for the country. Most of all, I got to try 18 beers that are very different from those in Canada.
The sign works on many levels, including six feet down.
The trip to Portland goes through Bothell, WA. It is home to my uncle and my favourite street sign (seen in the photo). I always stay overnight at my uncle’s house whenever I travel south. It offers a respite and a chance to reconnect, both with my uncle and my history. My family and I spent many, many weekends in his house when my aunt was sick. It’s a home filled with my childhood memories, both happy and sad.
So it’s appropriate that the first beer I enjoyed on my trip was a Wells’ Banana Bread Beer. I picked up a bottle in the local QFC for my evening refreshment, being somewhat intrigued by the beer. Who came up with the idea for mixing banana bread and beer? It’s certainly not something I can pick up in the staid BCLS. I mean the brewer had to be a certified genius or authentic whacko.
My uncle was out for the evening and I was enjoying a good book. I opened the beer and poured it into a Tom Collins glass (I know, I know, probably not the best glassware for this, but settle down).
My first analysis will be formal. The rest of them will probably be more stylistic, as some were written on small tables, during conversations, or under a reasonable feeling of inebriation.
Appearance: Reddish-brown in color. Little head that disappears almost immediately.
Aroma: Malt. Heavy banana bread. Just a lovely nose.
Taste: Strong banana flavour- it just fills the mouth. The banana gives way to cloves and spices and a hint of bitterness in the end. Overall, a very sweet taste. Little aftertaste.
Mouthfeel: Surprisingly heavy mouthfeel- almost like a good stout. Slight amount of carbonation.
Drinkability: I’m not sure I would have more than one of these in an evening, or more than once in a while. But I thoroughly enjoyed this one in this moment.
I sat in the living room with this beer and my memories. My stomach was warm and the taste of banana bread lingered in my mouth. I closed my eyes and imagined I was nine again.