A Year of Beer

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Just like all good monks, I operate a brewery. While I am not backed by centuries of tradition and millions of fans, I am also free of those pressures. Consequently, the Urban Trappist Brewery concocts unique ales and lagers, to superior and devastating results.

The one consistent part of UTB's output is, alas, on the exterior of the vessel. This is especially infuriating as I like to think that I can judge a beer by its bottle. Fortunately, this is the part I can convey over the internet. If you wish to sample the libations branded by the images below, you'll have to brave both my brewing and my persona, as I alone serve these beers.

    About the categories:
  1. On tap
    Not literal; this just means I have bottles of it, somewhere. Present tense.
  2. On hiatus
    Due to affection/thirst/poor rationing, this brew was finished, but will be revived in a near identical but subtly improved manner. Tentatively scheduled.
  3. On deck
    A concept that has almost enough flesh to be created. It might even have a name, in which case its likelihood of existence skyrockets, because all good names deserve a life. Vaguely-promised to guaranteed session date.
  4. On the back burner
    A beer that had its day, had some character, but needs some work. It will not be resurrected so much as reincarnated - same soul/style, different body/recipe/label. Not fixed on the space/time continuum.
  5. On the pyre
    A beer that was something, but for some reason, will not be brewed again, at least not for some time and probably not in the same way. Explanations include: too standard, too boring, too distinctive.
  6. Off
    Where the previous category was a well-conceived but poorly brewed beer, these were poorly conceived, which means that the brewing matters not. Were this place run like the CIA, knowledge of these beers would be disavowed.

On tap

II admit it; I infused a big American IPA with tart cherries from northern Michigan. OK, OK, there's more; I brewed it with rye. That's the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Honest. This dark, sweet beer was brewed with black mission figs to mess with your mind and palate. This nutty ale is just a few coals short of a roast. But its real lunacy is that behind the psycho amounts of almonds and hazelnuts is an insanely balanced flavor. You'll feel like you're drinking crazy pills. The first commissioned brew, with the sole criterion of matching commissioner Ryan's hair: red. I brewed a red ale with wheat and nominally appropriate rye, fermented it with a hefeweizen yeast, then dry hopped it lightly. The result was a stylistic bastard, but a delicious one. Quoth Ryan: "It has only one problem: I can't stop drinking it."

On Deck

BarleywineTighten your kilts, lads; this big beer will burst your britches into double digit ABV. If that's not rough enough, it'll come with a Scottish blast of peat and oak, straight from the bagpipes. On a less culturally stereotyped note, this beer should be huge and delicious, with some interesting approaches to yeast usage.

Coming: Pre-Thanksgiving This festive abbey ale marked the achievement of moderated spicing and patient aging. Wrapped in a (artistically adorned) bottle, it's the true king of beers. Go tell/drink it on the mountain, over the hills, and everywhere!

Coming: duh

On hiatus

This dark lager is the crown jewel of the first year. Cold-brewed in a vacant Cleveland apartment, it met and embraced North Coast winter, refining industrial loads of coffee and cocoa into an improbably crisp dark beer. It needs no alteration, but I need a new temperature control chamber.

Returning: a month after I get a brew fridge This augural ale is as potent as acid dreams. Read the label for the main punches, but some deep malts provide the base for those visionary sips. Too much hop load turned that soft reveille from sweet revery into a harsh awareness of nocturnal emission. But hey, a beer that causes that must be good, no?

Returning: In your dreams This alternative mash wasn't nearly as controversial as Mapplethorpe's exhibition. Rather, Cincinnati applauded it and demanded more than its ultralimited minibatch. Despite my Vermont roots, I can't get cheap maple syrup, so the single gallon version will be repeated identically, though maybe with more yams.

Returning: Fall My long pondered ode to northern Michigan: a dark cherry ale. Roasted malt, Belgian yeast, and pounds of dried cherries make this a colorful libation both in taste and sight.

Returning: Dark Days A more refined version of the first UT beer that became what it was supposed to become, PTIYP2 features an expressionist label with a poetic description of this dark, rough beer.

Returning: TBD

On the back burner

This intended IPA had a surprise ending, turning from an India Pale Ale to an American Indian Pale Ale (i.e. red "skin"). My initial brew it actually acquired quite a dynamic character from the foolishly utilized roasted barley, which imbued a robustness not typically/ever seen in an IPA. As a result, I really can't call it an IPA. Instead, I call it gone, but not forgotten. This autumn ale smoothly spiced up many a dessert party, including PCP2 and Pre-Thanksgiving. A little heavy on the sugary adjuncts (honey, dried fruits), it had too much alcohol taste and not enough carbonation (hence "headless ale"). But it was such an ideal pairing for so many autumnal delights, that its basic ingredients and same yeast strain will be retained, but the ratios will be overhauled. PumpktoberfestAn example of going too far. Brewed with excessive amounts of pumpkin but insufficient spices, the clear Oktoberfest-style lacked the force to mellow the potent pumpkin blech. A blend of this and Ichabod's Headless Autumn Ale might achieve the proper balance. Should be retried next fall. This literary IPA is a poor man's DIY Two-Hearted Ale. I enjoyed it a lot. Others did, too. But Bells does it better, so I'll leave the crisp IPA to them and a million other microbrewers. However, I can't completely omit hoppy ales, so this will be reincarnated elseways, such as I Cannot Tell a Rye. An Abbey-style ale brewed with tarragon and basil. I have no idea if this will end up sacred or profane. Probably just secular, but let's taste and see.

On the pyre

This herbal Trappist ale was my first intentional effort to aim a brew session at dinner. Rosemary, Ginger, and other gorgeous ladies graced my brewery, imparting a very distinctive flavor. It worked fabulously when pork was marinated with the beer, ice cream was infused with those herbs, or those ladies came over for a meal, but otherwise it put the ache in stomach. This remixed ale/lager blended MWD, and Rain King, and DNotS (most to least). If you've had those three, you probably know that they aren't logical partners. What came about was a dulled, deepened version of Rain King. Which it needed. This porter got burned. The addition of cinnamon (excessive) and chili peppers was playing with fire, and everyone who drank it tasted my pain. Small sips made for a curious accompaniment to cocoa-based desserts, but I have yet to find someone who finished a full bottle, enjoyed the last drop, and retains both his taste bud count and trust of my brewing.

Soon to be: Off This Belgian wheat ale was my first collaborative effort with Pat. We brewed in separate cloisters, silently. Then, we came together and blended our respective batches in varying ratios. They are all quite good, but I prefer my Wits to be bookish, not beery.

Soon to be: On the Pyre

Off

Crucifixion AleMy most extreme effort to date, Crucifixion Ale was brewed as red as the blood of the lamb. Dyed for you, it was naturally color-enhanced by dried tomatoes, red peppers, and cranberries. It is satanic in flavor. If you ever need a truly ascetic penance, ask for a bottle of this sacrilege. Contrary to its namesake, it has no redeeming value whatsoever.
Pedestrian PilsnerThe goal was light and refreshing. The tools intended to achieve that end were basil and lemon zest. Neither was added in anything remotely close to an influential amount, which can also be said of the hop load. As a result, a bland beer that was used almost exclusively for cooking. Budweiser drinkers, however, would have enjoyed it.
Tropical StormA second effort at the above concept, this time getting fruity: mangoes and pineapple steeped in the fermenter for a few days. They were also inadequate for the task, and the final product retained only a faint flavor of slightly overripe fruit. Very excellent for cooking.

Although the Urban Trappists only started brewing in August of 2006, this taplist is abridged. Some brews have been so uninteresting (Pedestrian Pilsner) or horrifying (Crucifixion Ale) as to merit noninclusion. If that piques your curiosity, then consider that if a mere mention seems unappealing to the brewmaster, how much more distasteful must an actual sample be? Let your imaginative desires rest.

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