And good beer is, of course, the salve for our Damnation (or Salvation). So, here are a few theme beers guaranteed to at least keep you laughing. But you might want keep a sixer of BudMillerCoors handy because these are too good to cry in if things go south real quick:

If it really is La Fin du Monde, and the Rapture is upon us, it’s gotta be thirsty work to endeavor a second coming, so I will offer Jesus an eponymous beer. He turned water into wine the first time around, so I think he’s going to be pretty impressed with how well our craft brewers are doing with H2O these days. I hope that gets me on his good side for Judgment Day and I can talk Him into Deliverance and Redemption as we reach The End of History.

However, it could be that the Hopocalypse conjures the Dark Lord first. Mephistopheles might not be his name, but the appearance of The Beast will surely bring about Ommegeddon when he/it rises from Hell. Perhaps it’s best to appease Lucifer with a Duvel.

Or, it might be best to take a different tack and go Gudelos (godless). Or dive into some Jewbelation, just to be on the safe side — chosen ones and all.

On second thought, if we are truly looking at the prospect of facing Hel & Verdoemenis (hell & damnation) and complete Obliteration, I might just take it on Blind Faith that the best option is Mort Subite.

But let’s all hope this Apocalypse silliness is once again the product of a Blithering Idiot, so I can finish this post with a Happy Ending.

“Give me oysters and beer for dinner every day of the year and I’ll feel fine.”

From the song, Tin Cup Chalice, that is hands-down one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett song quotes. And it pretty much expresses how I feel about the classic combination of bivalves and beer.

So it didn’t take much cajoling (OK, none) to get me on board a tour bus at a bit too early on a recent Saturday morning bound for an adventure that promised virtually endless quantities of both oysters and local craft beer.

The sold-out bus was scheduled to take its 50 passengers from Portland, Ore., to the Hama Hama Oyster Co. in Lilliwap, Wash. One way, that’s about a “three-hour tour” as one fellow traveler sang to me in homage to “Gilligan’s Island.” And that was before the beer started flowing.

The Oyster Bus, which was on its second trip, is the brainchild of Charlie Devereux of Double Mountain Brewing, in Hood River, Ore.

“I love beer, of course. And I love oysters,” he told me a few days before the bus started rolling. “So, the bus idea just came to me one day. I thought it would be cool to have a bus full of great beer and go check out some oyster farms and eat a lot of oysters.”

Devereux enlisted the help of Hopworks Urban Brewery to serve their beer along with Double Mountain’s to prevent thirst among the throngs both on and off the bus. Devereux’s business partner and brewmaster Matt Swihart and HUB owner Christian Ettinger, along with brewer Jaime Rodriguez were our Beer Barons for the day. Tobias Hogan, owner of EaT: An Oyster Bar served as a most amicable Oyster Ambassador on the trip. His partner, Cheryl Wakerhauser, owner of the sister Pix Patisserie shops which are well-known not only for their sweet treats but also for deftly pairing them with both beer and wine, was our Delegate of Diversions on the bus.

We met at EaT and were told the bus would leave at “9 a.m. sharp.” After signing in and signing a waiver, basically saying that you take full responsibility if you did something stupid, coffee and doughnuts kept the crowd busy.

We started rolling around 9:10 — not a bad of wrangling a bunch of chatty travelers. It wasn’t two blocks before cups were handed out and Devereux started pouring pitchers of beer from the jockey box configuration at the front of the bus. Double Mountain’s Hop Lava IPA and HUB’s Secession Cascadian Dark Ale were our fine companions for this leg of the trip. How’s that for breakfast beers?

As the urban neighborhood streets became freeway and trees replaced the buildings, Devereux cranked some nice tunes on the sound system to get everybody in the vibe as they sipped on their breakfast beers and chatted. He was supposed to be sitting next to me, but was so busy pouring pitchers that he never sat down once on the trip up to Hama Hama. But I wasn’t alone for long. A charming woman named Kim plunked down next to me for a bit. She explained that she was on the bus with her husband, near the back of the bus, but she had a poem that she wanted to share with us when the time was right so she was moving closer to the front of the bus to read it. I was intrigued at the thought of someone finding a poem to read to a bus full of reveling oysterheads. This was quite a literary crew! (She did a fantastic job, and it was the perfect poem.)

After that, Wakerhauser must have thought we had consumed enough beer for our IQ levels to have lowered to the levels of the contestants on the old TV game show, Let’s Make a Deal. For those who have never seen the show, players could win prizes (which could be fabulous or forgettable), then decide to trade in their prizes for the potential of better (or worse) prizes. Wakerhauser proved to be a formidable host who had stuffed prizes ranging from wilted celery to hefty gift certificates to local restaurants and shops in a whole host of boxes in different shapes and sizes. (Offine to the burly guy who won the Breakfast at Tiffany’s lunch box. Do you really want that? If not, contact me!)

The time flew by faster than the miles and within three hours, we were greeted by Derby the Hama Hama oyster dog and Adam James, our gracious hosts for the next few hours.

Before you could say “geoduck”(and it’s “gooey-duck, by the way), a table was propped up outside and expert shuckers began doing their thing — I didn’t get a number, but judging from several people who were boasting that they ate upwards of 50 raw oysters apiece, I am guessing our group went through a bushel or several.

And there weren’t just raw ones being shucked for our enjoyment. On what appeared to be a mound of shells, grass and dirt, there was a campfire burning, where more oysters were being cooked to perfection over the open flame. The same was being done on the outdoor grill closer to the “shucking room” (where they literally shuck oyster after oyster for shipping) before it was taken over by huge slabs of beef brisket that were to be our lunch (apparently man and woman cannot live on oysters and beer alone — although many on the bus tried).

Beerwise, two new offerings were set up in the shucking room to go along with the aforementioned bus brews: Double Mountain’s The Vaporizer Pale Ale, one of my personal favorite Double Mountain beers and HUB’s Bonfire Bitter, a one-off session beer that’s a lot like an ESB. Both are hoppy enough to contrast well with the briny sweetness of the oysters without overpowering them.

While we were steadfastly slurping up our bivalves and beer, James handed us a little Hama Hama history. Founded in 1922, and family owned and operated all that time, the Hama Hama Co. was named for (but spelled differently than) the nearby Hamma Hamma River. The juxtaposition between salt and fresh water coaxes the oysters into growing very slowly, often taking twice as long to reach the market as oysters grown in other areas.

The Hama Hama oysters and clams have been harvested there for four generations for restaurants and seafood stores across the country. Now the company has a thriving online store to accompany the small, friendly on-site shop, so oyster fans from all over can enjoy bivalves from Hama Hama — raw, smoked or even pickled (my first thought: Bloody Marys).

James said Hama Hama’s latest venture is a type of oyster called Blue Pools. I wrote about Blue Pools in my oyster stout post when I first had them at Upright Brewing. Simultaneously sweet and salty, with a crisp, clean finish, they might just be the best oysters I have ever eaten.

James explained that while most Hama Hama oysters grow directly on the beach, Blue Pools are grown in “tumble bags” that rise and fall with each tidal cycle. The action rolls the oysters around, breaking off their new growth and gently encouraging them to grow deeper instead of wider, which creates a perfect half-shell shape, with a flat top shell and a pronounced deep cup. The cupped bottom shell pools the oyster liquor over a small, tight oyster, perfect for eating raw. Between those and the Vaporizer Pale Ale, I had achieved bivalve bliss.

After some exploring, and of course, more great beer, it was time to turn the bus around. Our trip back was accompanied by Led Zeppelin, Monty Python and, of course, more beer. After we got back to EaT, it was obvious many of us where still thirsty for more as we bellied up to the bar, or lingered, talking, laughing and hugging our new friends farewell.

I was right when I figured this trip would be a shuckin’ good time. But what I didn’t know was that I’d make some new friends (and get to hang out with some old ones), learn a lot about bivalve farming, see some beautiful scenery, play a mobile version of an old TV game show and have an all-around (oys)terrific time.
Which leads me to another favorite song line, this time by The Grateful Dead:

“The bus came by and I got on.”

Oh, yes. I did. And I’d do it again. (You can, too! There’s talk of another oyster adventure in October.)

Ahhh, a shot-and-a-beer. It’s is a classic American quaff, yes?

Well, that may be true, but in the Netherlands, the Dutch have been enjoying it for a lot longer than we have — centuries longer. While our version usually involves whiskey or the like on the spirits side, the Dutch turn to their country’s own spirit, genever. And they give the combo a better name: kopstootje, which literally translates to “little head-butt.”

In Portland, Ore., last week, we got a lesson in both kopstootje and genever, thanks to a wonderful liaison between Lucas Bols Genever from Amsterdam and Portland’s Upright Brewing. Jacob Grier, who is the Oregon representative for Bols Genever, and is a master mixologist, approached Alex Ganum, of Upright Brewing, to create a special craft beer for the “back” to pair perfectly with Bols Genever.

Ganum, arguably one of the country’s most creative brewers, enjoys exploring unique styles and was more than up for the challenge. His Kopstootje Biere is in the biere de garde style, fermented with lager yeast at a higher temperature, much like a “common” or “steam” beer, and features many of the botanicals used in the genever. The result is a light, effervescent beer that is rich in flavor with herbal and spicy notes and a clean finish. After all, you don’t want your kopstootje to “head-butt” you too much.

Now that we have the beer back, here’s a bit on the genever, from Bols USA representative Tal Nadari. He says that genever, which is sometimes called “Dutch gin” really isn’t anything like gin at all. It’s more like a whiskey, because it’s malt-based, but it distilled with a number of botanicals to create different flavors. Nadari says it is “the” spirit in Holland, outselling all others by far. The Dutch mix it in cocktails, too, but mostly they enjoy it neat in the traditional kopstootje fashion.

And how does one kopstootje properly? Below is the process, illustrated by the framed postcards from a genever (also spelled jenever) place called Wynand Fockink in Amsterdam, where my hubby, Mark, and I spent a very fun night with our good friends, Eric & Val, once. The picture hangs in our kitchen as a wonderful reminder!

How to kopstootje like the Dutch:

1. First you take a lovely little tulip glass. Set it on the bar where you will be drinking it. Near the edge. You’ll find out why in a moment.

2. Fill the glass with genever. To the rim — actually to the point of it nearly overflowing. It needs to actually be filled slightly higher than the rim. Trust me, you can do this. Just don’t sneeze.

3. Set a small glass of beer to the side of the tulip glass of genever.
4. Now, drink the genever. But the trick is, you can’t pick up the glass because it’s so full. So you have to bend over (Look Ma! No hands!) and slurp the genever from the glass until you can’t slurp up any more.

5. Resume your usual full, upright position. Reach for the beer. Take a sip of beer in the usual manner.

6. Smile. You just kopstootje’d.

And, you can listen to both Jacob Grier and Tal Nadari (and me) kopstootje-ing on the weekly radio show, Beer O’Clock: The Show for People Who Love Great Beer.

Part of it might have been the fact that I didn’t have anything to eat — our plane was detained for a few hours because of a “ground stop” at SFO, thanks to the aforementioned storm, and the first thing I did when I hit the streets of San Francisco was run over to Tcho Chocolates to judge a chocolate beer competition instead of grabbing something more, um, substantial.

But there was a lot more going on than just low blood sugar jitters. It had been several years since I had been fortunate enough to attend the CBC, and a lot has happened in the craft beer world since the last time I was there. I wasn’t sure what to expect. What if our cool little beer community had … changed?

Well, I am happy to report that after extensive research, the beer just continues to get better. I needed to make sure of that. And I did. The seminars are more informational than ever. The questions were more thoughtful than ever. And the passion, thankfully, is still there. Maybe even bigger than ever before, too.

I also was pleased to be greeted with open arms (and big hugs and kisses) by everybody I ran into. It was like having a reunion for the big, raucous, loveably dysfunctional family this only child of only children has never had but always dreamed of being a part of. And I soaked in every minute of it. Thanks to everybody who indulged me on that part.

Shameless self-promotion

But they also thumbed through the book, and seemed to enjoy it, which made me feel a lot better. It’s pretty nerve-wracking, presenting your first book to experts in the field, trust me on that one.

All that was great. But it was during one of those times that I felt like I had my perfect Craft Brewers Conference Moment — a time when everything I love about our community was wrapped up in a single interaction. I was standing in the seminar room where people were spilling in to hear the next seminar. And I was showing a Washington brewer the book. As he was thumbing through it, like many others, he checked to make sure his brewery was in there. (It was.) But in the process, before he even found his own brewery, he went past another Washington brewery; one that some could consider a competitor. But this brewer looked up, pointed to this other brewery’s photo and said, “Oh, SWEET! I love these guys! I am so glad they are in your book!”

To me, my friends, that is what our craft beer community is all about. And that’s what you will find at each and every Craft Brewers Conference — a brotherly (and sisterly) love, mutual respect and even excitement, admiration and enthusiasm for the other guys.

It’s heart. It’s soul. And it’s what separates craft brewers from the giant industrial dudes.

Thank you, craft brewers, for renewing my faith in this amazing community.

Beer Pioneer Don Younger

In his hometown of Portland, a wake will be in full swing by 3 p.m. at the Horse Brass Pub. Attendees at the time will be raising their glasses to Don. But hundreds, if not thousands, of people around the world who knew Don and loved Don aren’t able to be there in person. So we are having a worldwide toast — a virtual wake, if you will — to help bring us all together, at least in spirit.

The toast will travel around the world, because it will happen at 3 p.m. in all time zones.

So, at 3 p.m. your time on Sunday, organize a gathering of your own or just stop what you’re doing. Pour a glass of something you think Don would appreciate. And raise a toast to one of craft beer’s biggest champions and most colorful characters.

Younger, a true beer pioneer, took the Horse Brass from a one-tap tavern to a beer mecca, consistently named among best beer bars in the world. It is a favorite hangout for brewers, beer geeks, neighbors and visitors alike.

My team didn’t make it for a repeat performance at the Super Bowl this year. So that means I have more bandwidth to focus on some of the other great Super Bowl traditions off the gridiron, like the commercials, snack food — and beer!

Fellow Hop Press writer Mario Rubio has shown his true colors (green and yellow) with his review of Wisco beers, so, in the interest of being fair and balanced, I volunteered to present the opponents’ side and take a look at Pittsburgh beers.

While I am in no Steelers fan, I am fond of Pittsburg. I spent a couple of weeks there a few years ago on business, and found it to be an entirely charming city filled with friendly people, devoted fans and a passionate beer culture that has a rich history and a promising future. So I guess that makes me eligible enough to write this post.

The Pittsburgh area was home to about 25 breweries in the late 1800s until Prohibition and industry trends put brewers out of business. But Iron City beer, founded in 1861 stands today as a Pittsburgh icon. Iron City and its counterparts — Augustiner Premium Amber Lager and IC Light — are now brewed at City Brewery in LaTrobe (where Rolling Rock was once brewed) instead of the four-story brick building on the corner of Liberty Avenue and 34th Street in Pittsburgh, where Iron City was brewed from 1866 until 2009, but it’s impossible to think of Pittsburgh and not think of Iron City beer.

The Pennsylvania Brewing Company was the first craft brewhouse in the state, and, having been open since 1986, is a pioneer in the microbrewery movement. The brewery and its restaurant are located in the former Eberhardt and Ober Brewery in the historic Deutschtown section of Pittsburgh’s North Side, where beer has been made since 1848. The buildings are listed on the National Register of Historic Sites. Penn Brewery makes about a dozen German-style beers, ranging from Penn Pilsner to the darkly rich seasonal St. Nikolas Bock.

Pittsburgh craft beer fans tend to list the tiny East End Brewing, a production brewery that might hit 2000 barrels in 2011, as a local favorite. Founder Scott Smith says he is serving only two kinds of beer at the brewery over Super Bowl weekend — black and gold. Black offerings will include Black Strap Stout, Eye Opener Coffee Porter and Chocolate Covered Cherry Stout. On the gold side, Big Hop IPA, Monkey Boy Hefeweizen and Gratitude Barleywine 2010. East End does most of its business in outside accounts around Pittsburgh, but does sell its beer by the bottle or growler at the brewery.

Another brewery that is taking the Super Bowl game personally is Rivertowne, where the menu items at the Monroeville brewpub on Sunday will be cheese-free in a challenge to Packers fans. Even the pizza, which is the brewpubs’ mainstay, will be served without cheese (although patrons in need of a cheese fix can get it if they really want it). Rivertowne has four beer-centric establishments around Pittsburgh, serving more than 20 different beers, but the Monroeville Pour House is the one with the brewery.

A newcomer to the scene, Full Pint Brewing has the capacity to produce 11,000 barrels a year. It is a production brewery with a growler room where patrons can pick up beer straight from the brewery. Brewer and co-owner Matt Kegg (yes, his real name) says Full Pint currently has three standard beers — Chinookie Imperial Pale Ale; White Lightning Belgian-style White Ale and All-In Amber Ale.

It’s a pretty good bet that a bunch of beer-lovin’ Steelers fans will be heading to Church for the game. Not to pray for their team, but to enjoy great beer. Church Brew Works, housed in the former St. John the Baptist Catholic church, is hands-down one of the most beautiful brewpubs in the country.

Meticulously and reverently restored after many years of unused, Church opened for business in 1996, and has been preaching the good-beer mantra and converting beer lovers ever since. The entire space, from the former pews now used as benches in the dining room to the bar, made from oak planks recovered from the same pews and from the stained glass windows to the gilted lanterns — are all salvaged from the church. Even the original confessional still remains, although now it holds Church Brew Works merchandise.

But the real focal point is the brewery itself. Poised on the altar, encircled in a Mediterranean-blue enclave, the steel and copper equipment gleams like a shining star, and makes the perfect backdrop for Steeler fans who will no doubt come in droves to either celebrate or cry in their beers after the game.

Good luck to both teams!

When Don Younger awoke one morning after a long night of drinking, he noticed a piece of paper on his nightstand. Hung over, he read the receipt as the words sunk in: In a drunken moment the night before, he had bought the same bar in southeast Portland, Ore., that dealt him the headache he was nursing.

Since then, Younger has made it a seldom-broken rule to conduct his daily business before he gets to the business of drinking. He also lives by the quote that you should always do sober what you promised to do drunk, and he has never looked back.

In the 34 years since that morning, Younger has transformed the Horse Brass Pub from a hole-in-the-wall bar into one of the country’s most well-known and well-loved craft beer meccas, bringing in rare imports and being among the first to take a chance on some local kids who were making a new thing called “microbrew.” Today, the Horse Brass pours craft beer from about 50 taps — most of them rotating — and has been an inspiration for numerous other pubs across the country.

It wasn’t an easy transition from crap to craft for the Horse Brass. There were more lean years than not, a bankruptcy, a tangle with the IRS, and, more recently, a smoking law that bans Younger from enjoying his other favorite vice in his own pub — something that had Younger threatening to close the place rather than be told he couldn’t smoke in his “home.” (Thankfully, he didn’t.)

When he’s not in the back parking lot, grabbing puff under the stairs like a high-schooler sneaking a cig, the venerable publican can often be found on the “drinking side” of the bar. If you’re lucky, you can slide onto the bar stool next to him and start up a conversation. After a Younger’s Special Bitter (brewed by Rogue in honor of his now-deceased brother), he will tell you he had no idea when he took over the pub that he would be making craft beer history — and it certainly wasn’t something he set out to do.

“I didn’t want to do what was right. I didn’t want to do what was wrong,” Younger said once over a round of beers about his involvement in the development of today’s craft beer culture. “I just wanted another beer.”

Cheers to that — and to many more years of “another beer” at the Horse Brass Pub.

Upright's Oyster Stout

With a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, Upright Brewing‘s Alex Ganum places a netted bag full of fresh oysters on the stainless steel counter as a batch of dark wort reaches the boiling point in the Portland, Ore.,-based brewery directly behind the circle of people surrounding him.

“They’re a couple hours out of the water,” Ganum says of the bivalved beauties. “The guy brought them in this morning straight from Hama Hama.”

As Ganum reaches for a knife to shuck the first little gem open, he explains that these oysters are called Blue Pool, and his source in Washington state, says they are some of the best oysters around. That’s saying something in the Pacific Northwest, where oysters are a-plenty.

Ganum expertly lifts the shell away. Always the gentleman, he offers me, the only female in this motley crew, the first one. I accept it, and we all lean in to take a look. It is aptly named, as it seems as if the oyster is resting in its own bluish-gray puddle of briny goodness. It slides effortlessly into my mouth — sweet, salty, with just the right amount of firmness. Oh, yeah. Ganum’s oyster guy wasn’t kidding. These are goooood.

We all wash our tasty treats down with an Alameda Black Bear XX Stout. And, just because it seems like the right thing to do on a random Thursday morning in January, we sip on a beer cocktail called a Hot Scotchy as we take a moment to reflect on the harmonious coupling of oysters and stout.

But our mission today isn’t to enjoy the blissful blending of bivalves and beer. It is to make bivalve beer. And Upright was in the throes of brewing its second annual Oyster Stout seasonal brew while we were slurping up the Blue Pools, stout and Hot Scotchies.

“We started this tradition of enjoying oysters and stout last year when we brewed the first batch,” Ganum explained. “Except last year, we ate the oysters that had been boiled in the beer during the brew. And those turned out to be really bitter. While we are still going to put whole oysters in the beer this year, we decided to get some that don’t go in the beer for us to eat. And the ones they brought us for the beer this year were huge, so they also brought us these Blue Pools specifically for our new annual tradition of eating oysters and drinking stout while brewing our Oyster Stout.”

In addition to the six dozen whole oysters that go into one batch of Upright’s Oyster Stout, another 12 gallons of gray, milky oyster brine are added to the mix. Fittingly, the history of oyster stout is just about as murky as that brine, too. Jack Harris, co-founder of Fort George Brewery + Public House in Astoria, Ore., has been brewing an oyster stout for about a half-dozen years — first at Bill’s Tavern and Brewhouse in Cannon Beach, south of Astoria, and now at Fort George. He took a break from brewing this year’s batch, just days after Upright brewed theirs, to talk a bit about oyster stouts.

“It started as a myth,” he says of the style. “But it has become a reality.”

Harris says the original oyster stouts didn’t have oysters in them. They were made for the pub-goers in England, who had a hankering for oysters and discovered the now classic pairing of oysters and stout. The name, Harris says, came about after some marketing-minded brewer decided to call his beer an Oyster Stout to alert thirsty patrons that it would be suitable for enjoying with oysters, which were all the rage at the time. Marston’s Oyster Stout is an example of this bafflingly named, bivalve-free beer.

But that nomenclature got other brewers thinking, and it wasn’t long before an unknown brewer decided to put oysters in the stout, too. The first known use of oysters being incorporated into the brewing process was probably in New Zealand in 1929. Several British brewers followed suit and used oysters in stouts during a time just after World War II.

And then? Well, the “style” mostly disappeared until craft brewers started experimenting with it. And Harris was among the first to brew it commercially– and consistently.

Harris brews Fort George’s oyster stout, called The Murky Pearl, a bit differently than Upright. He uses his hopback — a vessel that usually holds hops and allows hot wort to wash over them to extract lupulin goodness — and fills it with local Willapa Bay oysters instead of hops; about a bushel, or 12 dozen, in each batch. The 200-degree Fahrenheit wort washes over the fresh oysters in the hopback for about 40 minutes, forcing the oysters to open up and release their sweet juices into the wort. Like those at Upright, the practice eventually cooks the oysters into big, bitter pieces of rubber.

“I tried eating a couple last year. We were going to use them as part of our oyster and stout dinner, but we just couldn’t do that — they were too bitter from the wort,” Harris says.

One of the things Harris says that is difficult about brewing an oyster stout using the hopback is the calcium from the oyster shells can muck up the works — but it’s physical proof that the extra calcium in an oyster stout could be a boon to bones. However, those with a certain dietary inclination will need to reconsider the style.

“Oyster stout is a non-vegan beer,” Harris says. “There are not a lot of non-vegan beers out there.”

And while oyster stouts are still uncommon with few commercial representations, the style does seem to be picking up steam, which is quite all right with Harris.

“I’d love to see everybody make an oyster stout,” he says.

So what’s the reason for their joy this season? Nothing short of the release of The Abyss, the dark, foreboding Deschutes brew that taste like midnight.

Last year, the release of The Abyss at the Portland, Ore., Deschutes pub was no less than that if word had leaked that ALL the American Idol winners were eating inside, with a line that wrapped around the block as fans waited patiently for a chance to procure their bottles and maybe even have time before going back to work to sneak in a vertical taster tray. (Check out last year’s extravaganza.)

So, I was expecting a similar situation this year. And arrived early to once again capture the furor. (And, yes, sneak in a taste or two myself!) But what I found was a completely different, yet still very passionate scene.

I can’t say I was disappointed that the rock-star treatment didn’t materialize, but it was a bit of a let-down. (Folks apparently realized that there is a lot of The Abyss to go around this year, so no need to irritate the boss by skipping out.) Still, the place was full and most custimers were sipping at very dark taster trays. They also were enjoying fare from a special Abyss menu that featured such delicacies as a hamburger made from meat seared in The Abyss, Abyss-caramelized onions and mushrooms in a tasty turnover, and Abyss brownies — which they were passing out samples of along with tastes of this year’s black brew. Another change: you could sample The Abyss 2010 on nitro, alongside the regular offering.

So, without any further ado, here’s a little video with some comments from fans (and the obligatory yummy shot of those Abyss brownies):

A quarter century ago, there really weren’t very many craft beers around, and the owners of Woodstock Wine & Deli, the Fujino family, focused on bringing in good wines. But son, Gregg, soon learned the joys of craft beer (called microbrews back then). He especially was hooked on Sierra Nevada’s Celebration Ale, and when the shop installed several taps to accompany the glasses of wine that were poured there each day, Gregg decided to start collecting a keg or several of Celebration Ale each year for future vertical tastings. Most years, Gregg and the gang will feature four or five vertical years of Celebration Ale shortly after the beer is released for the year. Because the kegs are stored in an ideal steady, cool temperature in the store’s large walk-in cooler, it’s a great way to see how time affects this highly anticipated beer. The tasting can be indicative of how that bottle of two-year-old Celebration Ale you found in your basement might taste, as well, for instance.

7 Years of Celebration Ale

This year, Gregg says, while he and his brew crew were deciding which kegs to tap for this year’s Celebration tasting, they “found” a keg of 2004 Celebration Ale that had been hiding in a back corner of the cooler, so they decided to up the ante and put on a seven-year vertical. Sixteen bucks got you a full flight — a 6-ounce sample of each year, 2004-2010. Or you could just dive right into a favorite year by buying various pints.

Here are my (unedited) tasting notes from the flight — it’s really quite interesting to see how the beer changes from year to year:

2004: A bit hazy, but still that gorgeous Celebration color. Big meringue head. Interesting how many of the older years seemed to have a denser head. Surprisingly amazing hops in aroma. Grassy nose with a slight papery hint. Pretty bitter, but with no sharpness. You can definitely still tell this is a Celebration Ale. Slight notes of cardboard or paper in the finish. Paper-y notes indicating oxidation. This one’s a bit past prime.
2005: Paper predominates in this one — more than ’04. Maybe ’04 benefitted from being “lost.” It also smells and tastes a bit medicinal. The papery notes recede after some time. This one tasted a bit more rounded than ’04.

2006: Citrus, resiny pine show up in this one, although it’s not as grassy in aroma as the previous two. Amazingly still well-balanced with the perfect blend of caramel/toffee malt backing those citrus and pine notes. 06 must’ve been a damn good year because this is a winner. Still!

2007: Clearer in appearance than the previous years. Big, tan head that looks like a dollop of whipped cream. Slight hints of butterscotch in the aroma and in flavor, but the pleasant bitterness powers through. Not getting the iconic burst of citrus and pine as ’06 gave us. Celebration Ale is in there, but it’s masked by some other flavors. This one has a creamier texture in the mouth as well.

2008: Flat head. But wait: THERE’s my Celebration Ale! It doesn’t seem to have changed much at all — like it had just come out of the brewery. Appearance a bit turbid. Nice long-lasting citrus and pine presence, good and resin-y. My favorite of the flight. I wouldn’t let this Celebration age much longer, though.

2009: Another flat head. A bit darker in color than any of the others. Did they back off the hops or use different ones in ’09? This one is more malt-forward, with a caramel and fruity sweetness, but an unmistakable grassy-citrus lingering finish. Rather uninteresting compared to some of the others.

2010: Nice, fluffy head. Not as big a head as ’07, but still pretty enthusiastic. Spicier hop aroma than the others. Nicely balanced but not quite as hop-forward as some of the other earlier years. The spicy hops come through in the lingering finish as well. Seems like a very different hop profile than in previous years.

All in all, what we learned is that Celebration Ale is proof that hops are a good preservative. If you treat the beer with respect, it will still taste great several years down the road. Kudos to Woodstock Wine & Deli for dutifully bringing Portlanders this interesting vertical experiment each year!