Happy Drinking!

The obvious followup question is, of course, what makes Pliny the Elder worth of such an article? Well, for starters, there’s this list. Pliny, along with probably a half-dozen other beers, has become one of the alcohol ‘Holy Grails.’ Near universally positive ratings combined with relative rarity has given Pliny a solid ‘Nectar of the Gods’ reputation. Does the beer’s obscurity have anything to do with its exalted reputation? Probably. Of the Top 10 on BeerAdvocate, only one is available year-round (and only three are easily found in retail). But does that make it overrated? Let’s let the tasting decide.

But first…

The History
This is a history in three parts…

Part 1: The Man
Pliny the Elder, also known as Gaius Plinius Secundus, was a Roman author, naturalist, and natural philosopher, as well as naval and army commander of the early Roman Empire. He was born sometime around 23AD, and died on August 25, 79, allegedly while rescuing a friend from the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. Personally, I’d put that in the top 5 badass ways to die (#1 of course is blowing up a meteor). He also wrote a book on the use of missiles thrown from horseback in battle. Bad, ass.
However, it was not Pliny’s heroic exit, nor his De jaculatione equestri that led Russian River to name their brew after him, although I’m sure it didn’t hurt. It was his work as a naturalist, where he lent the name ‘lupus Salictarius’ - meaning ‘wolf among scrubs’ - to the hop plant, which at the time grew mostly among willows. The current botanical name for hops is humulus Lupulus, and the resin found in hops which gives beer its distinctive bitterness is known as Lupulin. It’s wolves all the way down, all thanks to Pliny’s metaphor.

Part 2: The brewery
Russian River is a small Californian brewery / pub. It was founded in 1997 when some folks at Korbel decided to try brewing beer. They hired Vinnie Cilurzo as brewmaster, who went on to buy the brewery in 2002 when Korbel backed out of the brewing industry. Currently, Russian River (merged with Blind Pig, Cilurzo’s old brewery) is located in downtown Santa Rosa, CA. Although in seriously high demand, Russian River has a very limited distribution. Several of their more popular brews (most notably Pliny the Younger, a bigger, hoppier version of the Elder) are only available in the brewpub and for a few days each year. The few beers that see commercial release are found primarily in California, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, and for some odd reason, Philadelphia.

Part 3: The beer
Pliny the Elder is a Double or Imperial IPA, a style which Vinnie Cilurzo is actually credited with inventing, although a few others make a similar claim. Cilurzo claims he “accidentally” created the style by adding 50% too much malt, a mistake he then “corrected” by adding 100% more hops. Also eager to claim the honor of DIPA Inventor are San Diego’s Port Brewing, and Rogue Ales, out of Oregon. Origin disputes aside, IIPAs are a relatively young, definitely American, mostly Californian style. Characterized by high alcohol and a hugely dominant hop profile (Pliny fits in nicely at 8%ABV and 100IBU), IIPA is one of the fastest growing styles in craft beer. At present, imperial IPA is become almost a standard for any American small brewery, especially any brewery on the west coast.

So know we know who Pliny was, what Pliny is, and why he’s in such high demand. But, with all beers, what really matters is how it tastes.

The Tasting
Decantered into a tulip glass, the beer pours a honey amber with some translucence. A white soapy head floats around and sicks around.
Smells like grapefruit… Lots and lots of grapefruit. Some pineapple maybe? A few other citrusy notes around the periphery.
Flavor has the same grapefruity tinge as the aroma, but a bit sharper… some notes of pine and a dry, almost chalky antacid bitter just into the finish. Ending is brighter, but still a dry acidic citrus. It’s all hops - hops up front, hops across the middle, hops long into the aftertaste. What little malt character there is is light and cereal, existing only to provide enough backing for the hops to ride in on.
Some additional fruit awakens as the beer warms. Tangerine, peach, some apple perhaps. It’s light, but rounds out the bitterness well.
Mouthfeel is perfect. There’s enough body to carry the flavor well, but Pliny is surprisingly not syrupy. given its enormous hop oil presence and high alcohol, one expects a certain stickiness, yet this finishes clean on the palate.
Alcohol is nicely masked, even during the room-temperature last sips. The effect, however, is quite noticeable by the end of a .5L bottle.

The Verdict
First, a brief digression: I’ll admit this bottle was nearing the end of its usable life. Hop oils deteriorate over time, and IPA’s are best enjoyed fresh. The text on Pliny’s label reads: “Respect your elder: Keep cold, drink fresh, DO NOT AGE! Pliny the Elder is a historical figure, don’t make the beer inside this bottle one!” Of course, the fresher the better, but realistically anything inside of 2-3 months is acceptable. If I’d opened this a month ago, I would have found the aroma much bigger, the hops in full force, and almost no sweetness. In another month, I would have lost the freshness in that grapefruit-pineapple aroma, and in its place found an amplified presence of sweet sugary bread-malts. Some big IPAs are ageable. Dogfish Head’s 90-minute, for example, yields a nice barleywine raisin sweetness and some kind of tobacco leaf earthy quality after about a year. For fresh-hop beers, however, please drink them young.

Anyway, my thoughts… This is an amazing beer. I was lucky enough to try it super-fresh when I was in Colorado, and again a week later at the brewpub in Santa Rosa. While not the biggest, the hoppiest, or the most bitter, or even the most balanced, Pliny still stands at the head of the style. Yes, it’s preceded by its reputation. And yes, perhaps Pliny’s perennial position atop the ‘Greatest Beers on Planet Earth’ list may influence some - myself included - to treat the brew as something more than just a beer. But I think this brew - and Russian River in general - is easily deserving of such a rank.

9.5/10

Saison du BUFF is a collaboration between the brewers at Dogfish Head, Stone, and Victory. The three heads - Sam Calagione, Greg Koch, and Bill Covaleski respectively - formed Brewers United for Freedom of Flavor (aka BUFF) in 2003, and promptly did nothing for 7 years. Luckily, they came together again in 2010 to release this very limited collaborative brew. Let’s see how they fared…

Decanted into a small red wine glass, du BUFF pours pale copper with big eggshell pillowy head. Foam lasts and plenty of effervescence quickly rebuilds from the bottom what its losing on top. Aromas are hugely herbal. Sharp sage dominates, with some slight lemony citrus and a peppery, grassy hop somewhere in the background.
Flavor up front mimicks the aroma… spicy and herbal. sage & rosemary are present, as well as some lemon zest, basil, and even a bit of mint. Brief evergreen sweetness sneaks in on the middle of the tongue before being quelled by a peppery spice and some grassy hop character. Finish is a dry mix of the named herbs and some soapy hoppy astringence.
Alcohol is almost completely absent.
Saison du BUFF is big on the palate, but not heavy in the least. The huge spice profile, pale malt, and enormous effervescence lends a crisp refreshing mouthfeel that peels even the stickiest flavors off the tongue (Enjoying this with some leftover veal, spinach, & mozzarella… the beer is doing a wonderful job of cleansing).

Definitely a unique beer, and a successful one at that. It’s good, and not just crazy for its own sake (something Dogfish Head has a bit of a reputation for, and isn’t always the best). Bold, yet refreshing. This is one of those beers that I wish would see a more permanent rotation. Enjoy it while you can.

8.8/10

Poured into a tulip glass, Orval comes out enormously effervescent, initially almost entirely head. It settles slowly, revealing a deep golden liquid under a blanket of eggshell foam.
Aroma is tart-fruity, sour rasberry.
Flavor is markedly less sweet than aroma. Initial taste is grassy and spicy, with a definite ‘barnyard funk’. Bitter fruit rounds out the middle - lemon zest & orange rind.
A bit of tart date as the beer warms, offsetting the wild bitterness, yet overall it stays far from sweet.
Finish is super dry, with a big smack of earthy, hay-like hops and a slight medicinal tinge.
Feel is medium-bodied, though the huge carbonation gives Orval a nice fluffiness.

Not my favorite trappist, it took me a long time to warm up to Orval. I first tried it a few years ago, when I was just getting into beer. I think it was too soon. I was prepared for a big sweet Belgian Strong Dark, and instead I got a dry, hoppy, somewhat funky pale ale. Revisiting now, I appreciate it more. I appreciate the history and difficulty in producing such a complex, unique, nuanced brew, but to be totally subjective I still don’t like it all that much.
Let’s just compromise by calling it “very interesting.”

7/10

The History / The Style
The history of Anheuser-Busch has been documented enough, so I’ll spare you. ‘Chelada’ is AB’s macro take on the Michelada or Cerveza preparada, a beer-based mixed drink that originated in Mexico in the 1940’s. The name is either a portmanteau of ‘mix’ and ‘chela’ (chela, meaning ‘chill’ is a Mexican slang for cold beer) or a contraction of “Mi Chela Helada”, meaning “My cold beer.” Whatever the back story, the meaning is basically the same.
The definition of a Michelada is fairly loose, and there is no one correct version. The standard base recipe calls for beer mixed with tomato juice and lime in a salt-rimmed glass. Clamato, or a house made mix of tomato and clam / oyster broth can also be used, and adding spices such as Worcestershire, Tobasco, or chili powder isn’t uncommon.
In mexico, Micheladas are considered a good hangover remedy. Sort of a beer-based bloody mary for the working-class brunch crowd.
Anheuser Busch, always on top of their marketing, has apparently realized both the popularity of Michelada in the Latino community and the growing Latino community in the US, and saw no other option but to jump on the trend. Their version is a 4.2% ABV mix of Bud Light and Clamato (the proprietary version), with salt and lime (likely artificial) added. Seeing as a 24oz. can will set you back a measly $1.50, they’re not exactly marketing to the connoisseur crowd here.

The Tasting

Beer?

Pours translucent and fizzy… looks more like grapefruit soda than beer. Head is pillowy and white, but quickly deflates, leaving zero lacing and very little nucleation.
Smells like a bloody mary. Peppery tomato, a hint of celery even.
Immediate taste is salt water… lots of salt water. Diluted tomato soup and a brief peppery tinge push through the brine, followed by a barely detectable glimmer of that familiar spoiled bread Bud Light taste, a half-second reassurance that yes, there is beer in this. The somehow welcome adjunct-laden beer taste quickly gives way to an overly salty tomato juice finish. Aftertaste is long and acidic, inducing both a twisted facial expression and a bit of heartburn.
Mouthfeel… well I’m hesitant to hold this beer in my mouth long enough to properly gauge its feel. It’s thin, but the flavor is powerfully overwhelming. Somehow creamy and watery at the same time. My first thought upon taking a sip is how quickly I can swallow it just to get the taste out of my mouth.
I honestly don’t understand how anyone can drink this.

The Verdict
I’ve had plenty of beers that I don’t like, and a few I consider downright awful. In every one, though, I was able to see at least what the brewer was thinking, and grasp that there is indeed a market for that type of beer. With this, though, I just can’t imagine it being enjoyable. To anyone.
I’ll even go as far as to accept that there is a group who honestly enjoys a good Michelada after a rough Saturday night. I see enough weekend-afternoon Bloody Mary swillers to grasp the appeal of a good hangover cure (even though I personally don’t enjoy them). However, I can only see this mass-produced, low-cost, dare-I-say ‘corporate’ take on the style as the absolute bottom of the Michelada barrel.
Sorry if my words are a bit harsh, but I still have the taste of Cape Cod Bay at low-tide kicking around the back of my throat.

On the bright side, I no longer have to think when I’m asked “What’s the worst beer you’ve ever had?”

0/10