*PUB BEER* or the smell of slowly starting to cook.
so here we are. don't i say that all too much? something lame like that. to start out a rant. or a review of myself. or our beers. so... here we are. so.... whoa whoa. omg yo. have you heard? about our new way of hyping up a paragraph?! it's just like the old way. oh. hi there. it's us again.
so. here we are. 4 years after first engaging foeder crafters. to reconfigure a couple puncheons we'd bought and busted up. and several years still after engaging them on proper foeders for our someday brewpub. and agreeing on an order and price and char and steam. and then 1.5 years after visiting st louis and staying in the beautiful soulard district and slapping the second shift crew on the back and watching a bunch of arkansan fan boys hassle corey king. and getting a bit tore up on side project beers with matt foeder (i assume that's his last name?). and then 7 months after veeerrrrrryyyyy carefully dropping them into place. with the inimitable larry of MRL Enterprises Inc. zen-like behind the wheel of his forklift. cigarette drooping from his lips just so. surly comeback at the ready. practiced. and then 4 months after knowingly and regrettably drying the shit out of them. and then 1 month after rehydrating them. just barely saving their lives. ... we've got our first foeder beer.
it's pretty common to age a beer in a foeder for a long, long time. and lots of breweries take their brand new foeders and ripp a boat of hot ass water through 'em to ease the overwhelming wood qualities. or else they blend their early foeder beers with other stainless beers. to keep them fresh new-wood notes mellower. but not us. we just hosed a cute little pub beer. modeled off an english mild ale. straight into the first foeder we cleaned and prepped. and tasted it twice a day. until juuuust the moment at which the wood started making its presents felt. (we're here! your aunt and uncle from out of town! you like model fire trucks, right?!)
*PUB BEER* is our foeder.... pub beer. we ain't calling it an english mild. cuz. uh. we don't want to? cuz who cares about style names? cuz you'll come in and read a slightly confusing description of it that'll give you juuuust the right sense of the beer. and you'll order it and like it and *PUB BEER* will just feel right. in that moment. there and then. we promise. ... anyway, there's always something in a beer that places you in a place. and times you out. ... is *PUB BEER* dripping with caramel? not exactly dripping. does *PUB BEER* taste like the way a fire smells??? no. does it beckon children's cereal?!?!?!?! no no. does it remind you of candy? absolutely not. but does *PUB BEER* sort of remind you of a memory of crossing a bridge in london despite never having been to london? yes. does *PUB BEER* taste the way a springtime morning or a girlfriend-cheek smells, fresh and lightly warm and sweet? yes. does *PUB BEER* remind you of that moment years ago, when you stacked a pile of new 2x4s in your lawn for your dad and he got home and scolded you cuz didn't you know that water warps wood and it's supposed to rain tonight and go get all those back in the garage stat? yes. does it remind you of yesterday, when you decided that all the hoppy and sour and clean beers were fine and great and all, but you wanted just the slightest taste of caramel and wood in your spring beer. you wanted to taste the memory of the previous year's sun hitting your white-ass skin and heating it up hot. that's what slightly toasty, caramel-colored beers taste like to you sometimes. the good ones, at least.
they taste like the scent of the earth and all its things slowly starting to cook. to warm up. in spring time. they taste like the moment all the intelligent things start to look around for the source of the good-smell. cuz the earth is just one big pre-caramel.
and this wood! this foeder wood! all over the front and back of this beer. like a cradle for the mouth made by a baby-carpenter-prodigy. jesus's childhood friend-carpenter who was way better at woodworking so jesus had to start playing up that whole messiah thing to get attention. this carpenter gal had a baby who had a baby who had a baby who lived for a thousand-plus years and who then had baby matt foeder in st louis. who then made us a foeder of precious glam wood. which barely touched this beer. but which still filled up all its cracks with simple warming wood sounds.
the earth is slowly cooking up. finally. and humans are scurrying for sun. and light, warming beers. and we pulled such a caramel-y beer from a magic wooden beer cradle. and it's been fluffed-up by some carbon gas. and is being drawn frequently in our pub. today. ... come drink *PUB BEER*. and the smell of slowly starting to cook.
fresh fridays! at bungalow by middle brow!
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