But when the folks at Nutista offered the chance to try their latest nutbutter collaboration with Stone Brewing, Xocoveza, along with the beer that inspired it, I tried my best to wait a few seconds before saying “Yes, please!!”
Wait, Stone is collaborating on … nutbutter? Huh?
“The Nuts Behind Nutista” — Tristen Cross, Greg Koch, and John Huber. (courtesy Nutista)
Three partners formed Nutista in 2016 — Tristen Cross, a tech/biotech marketer into healthy living and eating; John Huber, a stock analyst looking for healthier alternatives to peanut butter; and Greg Koch.
Yes, that Greg Koch, co-founder of Stone Brewing. Kinda makes sense now, doesn’t it?
Koch’s nutbutter revelation came as the result of a trip to Italy for a collaboration brew and trying the local hazelnuts. He figured he could do for mass-produced nutbutter what craft brewing has done for beer — produce higher-quality products by carefully sourcing ingredients and creating unique recipes.
They also take the “craft” approach by making very small batches (about 150 pounds each) using traditional methods and slow-and-low processing.
And yes, just as in craft beer, the meticulous sourcing and production comes at a price — about $12 per 8-ounce jar. But if you’re into the beer, you’re already used to paying premium prices for quality products. Comes with the territory.
Xocoveza is the fourth collaboration with Stone, the others being Totalitarian Imperial Russian Stout, Tangerine Express IPA, and Farking Wheaton w00tstout.
The Xocoveza butter is made with cashews, Valencia peanuts, Belizian cacao, Brazilian coffee, two different cinnamons (from Indonesia and Sri Lanka), nutmeg, sea salt, brewer’s yeast, lactose, and papilla peppers.
Mmmmm, beery nuttiness. Or nutty beeriness. Whatever. (courtesy Nutista)
I was debating on which to try first, the butter or the beer. But then I instinctively took a sip right after I poured the beer, so there you go.
The cacao and cinnamon are prevalent up front. Just a touch of heat from the peppers on the finish. Smooth, creamy, little bitterness.
Then I cracked open the nutbutter. I first tried it straight. I wanted the full experience, not cutting it with crackers or bread or anything.
Wow, there’s a whole lot going on here. Like peanut butter got a Masters’ degree.
Yes, the nuts are there. But so’s the cinnamon. Then the coffee. Then the nutmeg. And just like the beer, a trace of heat from the peppers remains.
Back to the beer. Coffee’s a bit more pronounced after the nutbutter. Chocolate and spices intermingle.
Then the nutbutter. More peanut-buttery this go ‘round, the spices taking more of a backseat. Again, the slight heat finish from the peppers.
Aside from the fun of enjoying it with the beer, the nutbutter itself would make a great snack. I can see spreading it over a few crackers for a midday boost to keep you going until dinnertime.
If your curiosity’s piqued, Nutista nutbutters are available on their website, or at Total Wine stores if you do the brick-and-mortar thing.
If you follow Jay Brooks on Twitter, you’ve seen how it’s been harder and harder to find people to host each month’s Session. More and more often someone (sometimes him) would step in at the very last minute, which is great but would of course limit participation as everyone only had a few days, at most, to come up with a post.
I say this knowing I am part of the problem. Many times I’ve read Jay’s pleas and thought, “you know, I really should host one of these months.” And every time, I’d ultimately chicken out. The thing was so precious to me that I never thought I was up to the responsibility. I didn’t want to be the one to “break it” by choosing a crappy topic, hastily writing a crappy post, and having no one else willing to participate for fear of being associated with something so crappy.
I did participate, however. Twice. Good exercises, both, and the feedback was always kind and informative.
So it is with great sadness that I write this farewell to The Session. Although there’s a beginning and end to everything, it doesn’t make the ending easier to take. Especially when I feel at least obliquely responsible.
But I don’t blame Jay and Stan for pulling the plug. With all their other obligations, they could only keep it on life-support for so long.
THE POINT
So the question at hand is the future of beer blogging. Geez, Jay, couldn’t come up with something a bit less ambitious, like, say, the pros and cons of time travel?
My answer — who knows? If I could’ve predicted the future of anything I’d have picked up Apple stock in 1977.
Everything evolves, faster than we can track. I take Jay’s points that blogging itself probably isn’t as immediate a platform as it once was, with all the different social media platforms and formats now on the scene. All these competing communication modes will of course dilute any message’s impact.
But, this also gives us a lot more avenues to direct our messages, and the potential to reach a lot bigger audience.
The key, I think, is to use these additional resources to complement, and amplify, our message.
Also, for better or worse, beer (at least the segment we still refer to as “craft”) is still a bit of a niche, so like-minded folks are more likely to use blogs and other social media to find each other and keep abreast of industry happenings.
At least, that’s what I’M banking on.
Which brings me to my ultimate goal here — self-promotion!
OKAY, THE REAL POINT
I’ve been writing this blog as more or less a hobby for the last five years or so. No real focus in mind, mostly just my experiences at the places I visit, events I attend, and people I talk to.
Recently, I decided to sharpen the focus a bit to strictly coverage of the S.F. Bay Area beer scene. Although that’s pretty much been the default, since I live here, I’m getting a bit more explicit about it.
To that end, I’ve recently started a newsletter (featured in NAGBW’s most recent quarterly newsletter — thanks, Bryan!). It’s a curation-style newsletter, where I gather what I feel are the most interesting Bay Area beer happenings from the various news feeds I follow, as well as a tidbit or two from my blog, and collect them in an easy-to-read newsletter format.
Consider signing up, won’t you?
Now, before you start screaming about me using the demise of The Session as an excuse for a shameless plug, I assure you this does relate to our topic.
I’m considering using this technology that didn’t really exist when The Session first started to hopefully continue its mission.
In short, I’d like to add a Session-type element into each issue.
I’ve only published a couple of issues so far, so right now I’m trying to stick to publishing every two weeks. So I’m thinking (just brainstorming here) of maybe introducing a topic, or calling for ideas, in one issue, then in the next issue a couple of weeks later featuring all the responses.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Whaddya think? Think we can use a newsletter to keep the spirit of The Session alive?
I’d call it something different, of course. Jay and Stan came up with the concept, so the name should naturally stay with them. But I do think the conversations they started should continue. No end game, no agenda (except maybe to drive up my blog traffic, not gonna lie), just people airing their opinions about this wonderful industry we all love in a thoughtful, respectful manner.
For this month’s Session, Alistair Reece at Fuggled has chosen a topic he calls Sepia Tones, basically a look back at what makes your Beer Story.
Without further ado, here’s mine, albeit a bit late. (And by the way, Mr. Reece, many thanks for jumping in to host at the last minute.)
My Beer Story started as a child in the San Francisco Bay Area. Dad would tell me to get him a beer (usually Olympia) out of the fridge. At some point, maybe age 10 or so, he’d let me open it and take a sip (or two) as I brought it to him.
Olympia played a big part of my childhood. Mom grew up in the Pacific Northwest, and every other summer we’d pile in the car for the long drive north to visit relatives. Without fail, Mom would snap a photo (or several) of Olympia’s Tumwater brewery, visible from the freeway as we passed.
In fact, Oly literally followed me into college. The truck Dad passed down to me had a camper shell, the entire back window of which proudly displayed the Olympia logo, complete with “It’s The Water”.
I’m saddened for what’s happened to the brand, especially since the facility, framed by so many car windows in so many of Mom’s photo albums, closed years ago. Pabst brews it in Los Angeles now, a fact underscored by a recent lawsuit claiming “It’s the Water” is false advertising, since it’s no longer been the water for quite some time. I doubt it’ll go anywhere, but I gotta admit it did make me smile.
THE COLLEGE YEARS
The late ’80s/early ’90s in Sacramento were filled with whatever mass-produced dreck I could afford — Hamm’s, MeisterBrau, Milwaukee’s Best, Schaefer, Burgie, you name it. I could always tell when my dorm roommate’s check arrived from his parents — the fridge would suddenly be stocked with Heineken.
Lucky Lager was a favorite during the dorm days. We spent many an afternoon sitting in a circle on the floor as we downed one after another, passing around the bottle caps to see if we could solve the picture puzzles underneath. Which undoubtedly got harder as the day got longer.
A later roommate worked for a local chain drug-store. One day he came home with several cases, remainders of broken six-packs, that they sold to employees for a Quarter each.
You’d have thought we won the lottery.
What really got me into “microbrews”, even more than Sierra Nevada, was Samuel Adams. Boston Lager was a revelation. Actual color! And flavor! Yes, it cost a few extra bucks, but by that time I had a decent-paying college job (with weekends off!), so I could splurge on the occasional six-pack.
If Boston Lager started my education, Rubicon Brewing accelerated it. As a newly minted 21-year-old in 1989, it was probably the first brewery I ever visited. I marveled at all the styles on the chalkboard. Amber Ale? Porter? ESB? What WERE these things?
Another favorite of my Sac State days was the long-since-defunct Hogshead Brewing in Old Sac. Sharing pitcher after pitcher in that dank, dark basement, watching the Beer Dawgs play on Saturday nights, remain some of my fondest college memories.
Sac’s about 25 years behind me now, and the beer scene that has since sprouted up around these old places is nothing short of mystifying. I’ve only managed to visit a few of the now more than 60 Sacramento-area breweries. Amazing.
EVOLVING INTO “THE BEERVERSE”
I returned to the Bay Area after college, and some of my early favorites include more places now gone — Pyramid in Berkeley (and Walnut Creek), Black Diamond in Walnut Creek, Hoptown Brewing in Pleasanton.
I was (and I guess technically still am) a member of HopYard’s Harvest Beer Club. Like many clubs, you tallied each beer you tried, and got rewards for reaching certain levels. I still have my cap and sweatshirt.
My favorite memory by far, though, was reaching the bus tour level. The bus, complete with kegs, left Pleasanton for our first stop, Sudwerk Brewing in Davis. After a great lunch and more beer, we left for our next stop, St. Stan’s in Modesto (which thankfully is being revived after wandering from its original vision and eventually closing).
The kegs blew midway to Modesto. Once there, the staff attempted to give us a tour, although very few had much attention span left by that point. Then, after more beer, it was back on the bus, now restocked with several cases of St. Stan’s, for the raucous trip home.
If I was ever a regular anywhere, it was at Main Street Brewery. Matt Billings has been going strong as the owner/brewer there since the mid-’90s, and back in the day I closed the place down more often than I should admit. It helped that it was walking distance to where I lived, although he was kind enough to give me a lift home every now and then.
If you’re ever at the old Cheese Factory building in downtown Pleasanton, say Hi to Matt, who still brews in the tiny brewhouse stuffed in a couple of rooms behind the bar. I left Pleasanton many years ago, so I don’t see him much anymore.
But, come to think of it, I believe he’s pouring at a festival I’m attending very soon. I definitely should make a point to thank him for being such a big part of My Beer Story.
[EDITOR’S NOTE:The following was written for a freelance job that fizzled.Since I have the Mount Rushmore of writer’s blocks right now, I’m repurposing it here.
BTW, if anyone has any flashes of insight about something that hasn’t been covered (no, the world does NOT need another hazy/glitter beer piece), it’d be cool if you sent it my way.I could use a thunderbolt at this point.]
So you’re sitting at your local taproom/brewpub/cool-ass hipster bar, enjoying another barrel-aged-wild-yeast-fruit-infused-something-or-other, and the thought hits you.
“You know, it would be cool to make this stuff at home, and satisfying to drink something of my own creation.I wonder what it takes?”
Well, assuming you don’t have Silicon-Valley-stock-option money for a barrel program, start small and get yourself a kit, available at most home-brew shops and/or websites.
Most come with these basic parts:
Boiling bucket — used to boil the grain (or, most likely for beginners, malt extract).
Fermenter — plastic bucket where fermentation takes place.
Bottling bucket — transfer the fermented beer here prior to bottling.
Various other pieces and parts, including lids, tubing, bottle filler and capper, etc.
These basic systems run start at about $80 and upwards depending on the doodads you want.
Once you’ve acquired your set-up, before you even get started, there’s one rule, above all others, you MUST adhere to.
SANITIZE, SANTIZE, SANITIZE!
Now, if you are an advanced brewer, bacteria can be your friend (see:sour beers).However, for beginners, it is the enemy of a clean fermentation.If any were to show up ANYWHERE during the brewing process, you are sunk.You’ll wind up with all sorts of off-flavors and other nastiness.
Anything that touches the liquid anywhere in the brewing process MUST be sanitized, from the buckets used to ferment and bottle the beer, to the tubes that move it around, to the bottles, caps, and bottling equipment.Sanitize, my friend, like you have never sanitized before.
Then sanitize again.
Long ago, when I was much younger and somewhat ambitious, I took a home brew class.Once I saw how thoroughly EVERYTHING needed to be clean and sterile, my ambition said “See ya!”I’ve been paying the professionals to do it ever since.
So, if that hasn’t scared you off yet, a very basic rundown of the brewing process is in order.
(If you’re looking for something more detailed, Google it. If you’re too lazy to do that, you probably shouldn’t be doing this, anyway.)
READY … BREW!
Boil water in the kettle, add malt extract, then hops.At this point, the liquid is called wort.After boiling, strain the wort and transfer it to the fermenter along with enough cool water to make five gallons.
Once the wort’s cool enough, add yeast, secure lid tightly to seal, store the fermenter in a cool place, and allow the yeast to do its thing for 3-4 weeks.
Yes, 3-4 weeks.If you’re impatient, crack open something from the fridge and drink.Pretend you made it and practice the feeling of pride.
If you squint really hard, your brewery looks like this!
When fermentation’s done, transfer to the bottling bucket, straining out unwanted solids.Bottle, cap, then wait a couple more weeks (REALLY?) for the beer to carbonate.
Then, finally, crack one open and drink.Pretend it’s as good as your local taproom/brewpub/cool-ass hipster bar.
See, didn’t that practice come in handy?
“Not me.Go big or go home, I say.Got something with more horsepower?”
You bet.How ’bout a shiny new stainless steel boiling kettle so you don’t have to use your own?Haven’t already saved a stash of bottles? Throw those in, too.And why not a carboy (fancy fermenter) so you can see the fermentation in action?
Not big enough?Get a wort-chiller (a fancy copper coil to run cold water through, shortening the chilling process)?And, to really feel like a pro, you can add a kegging system to serve your delicious creations from that Kegerator you’ve been meaning to install in your garage/basement/backyard pub (that you’ve also been meaning to install).
Depending on how semi-pro you want go, you’re looking at potentially several hundreds of dollars.Not counting the Kegerator.Or the pub.
BREW BOTS
“Yeesh, that sounds too complicated.Got something where I can just throw all the ingredients in and let it go?”
Yes, there is, if you’re not too particular about the end result.
The entry-level all-in-one brewing kit is from Mr. Beer.You’ve probably seen their products (usually around the Holidays) in places like Bed, Bath & Beyond or some such, usually at about $50 or so.
Mr. Beer’s system simplifies things in a couple of ways.The malt and hops are combined in a single syrup added during the initial boil.And they eliminate the need of an additional bottling vessel with a catch-all trap at the bottom of the brewing tank to catch any solids.
The Braumeister. Even sounds cool.
From all accounts, the system generally handles the brewing process pretty well, and the compactness is a plus for those in smaller spaces.The main criticism stems from the quality of the ingredients.The yeast, especially, may not be very effective if the product has been sitting on the shelf for a while.Stale ingredients = bad beer.Even if your ingredients are relatively “fresh”, you’re not going to get anything that’s too awfully complex.
However, if you want to feel trendy, they of course now feature a hazy DIPA kit, which is more elaborate than just a simple syrup. But still, really?
“That’s great for your college apartment, but I need something high-tech that’ll look cool next to my Italian Espresso machine.”
Well, Snooty McSnoberson, there are options here, too.These products essentially simplify the brewing process into as few pieces and steps as possible.But unlike Mr. Beer, these are NOT for the budget conscious.Be prepared to spend upwards of $2K or more for these bad-boys.
(And let’s face it, if you can afford that imported glorified coffee pot, what’s another couple-grand, amiright?)
For the more utilitarian-minded, there’s the Braumeister, which looks like your corporate break-room coffeemaker on steroids.Or the Grainfather, which more resembles a water heater.If you’re into steampunk chic, these might be for you.
Pico. Suave.
But if it’s aesthetics you’re after, you want the Brewie or the Pico Brew.These two up the “hipness” factor with sleek designs that, yes, will look more than spiffy in your Mid-Century Modern exhibition kitchen.
I’ll leave it to others to debate which works best. And I’m not going anywhere near “Is it really home brewing if all you’re doing is pressing a few buttons?”
The whole point, really, is the boom in beer has brought with it a boom in home brewers and home brewing systems, for all experience and/or investment levels.You can really get your hands dirty, or just “set it and forget it.”It’s really up to you.
Or, like me after that first class, just pay the nice bartender to pour you another.
My wonderful wife gave me this for Valentine’s Day.
Your bottle cap here!
Cute, right?
She’s very sweet to indulge my little hobby. She’s not into beer at all, but she humors me when I want to stop at a brewery or taproom during our travels, she nods politely and feigns interest when I excitedly pass along some cool (to me) beer news, and she’s always willing to give me a ride to and from the occasional festival.
And she gives me cool stuff like this.
I know what you’re thinking. “Quaint, kind of kitchy, has its charm…
But why are you writing about it?”
Glad you asked.
Announcing — The Bottle Cap Project: a Celebration of American Beer.
The first thing I thought when I got this beautiful piece of Americana was, “It would be really cool if I could fill it with bottle caps from breweries that actually represent the entire country.”
As you can see, the project’s already underway. Of course, the breweries represented so far are easily found in my local stores in the Bay Area. Filling out the spots elsewhere, especially in the East and South, is going to be a bit more difficult as most small breweries don’t distribute here.
That’s where you guys come in.
Brewers, wouldn’t you love the prestige of having one of your bottle caps prominently displayed in my dining room? Of course you would! Quite the feather in your cap, I would say. Think of the stories I can tell both my friends when I finally nag them enough to actually come over!
To that end, feel free to ship me an assortment (or even just one, I’m not greedy) of some of your finest offerings. Not only will you have the honor of being represented in my lovely home, but if it’s an especially tasty brew I’ll even post about it here, where it will be seen by an audience of tens!
I ask you, how could you possibly turn down an opportunity like this?
Now, if you want to cheap out and only send me the caps, it is of course your right to do so. I should advise you, though, that the chances of your brewery being featured in these pages will be greatly enhanced if there’s some product underneath those caps, if you get what I’m saying.
I’m sure some people will say this is just an obvious ploy to get free beer, especially things I can’t find on my local store shelves.
To that I answer — yes. Yes it is. Great work, Columbo.
But, I still think it’s a win-win. Brewers, you get (a little) more exposure for your brand, I get to try some great stuff I couldn’t otherwise get my hands on, and everyone gets the thrill of tracking the project’s progress as I post about it here on this very site!
[An aside — California, you are already well represented, and there are no spots on the “map” for Alaska and Hawaii (and as cool as my wife is, she wouldn’t dig me nailing bottle caps to the wall). So I’m afraid all of you guys are out. But, in the interest of fairness, if you want to send me entries anyway, I’ll find some way to fit you in here. Maybe I can find a “not pictured” category for you, or something.]
“Okay, you’ve convinced me, I’m in! How can I submit my entries?”
Another great question! To become part of this historic event, fill out the contact form or simply email me at dean[at]thebeerverse[dot]com. Once we arrange shipment, I’ll be proudly displaying your bottle cap and waxing poetic about your fine product in no time!
[Another aside — Nebraska brewers, my wife’s a Husker, and I’ve visited your beautiful state many times. I’m sure she would be extremely pleased if you were well represented in our home. Not that I’m playing favorites, but she might be able to influence me to maybe give you an extra spot or two. Just sayin’.]
[A third aside, last one I promise — states that border Nebraska, if you don’t want them to ace you out of spots, I suggest you get your stuff to me ASAP. Also just sayin’.]
Get your entries in quickly! At press time there are only 72 spots remaining, and with more than 5200 breweries in the U.S. now, they’re gonna fill up fast!
You might notice things look a little different around here. Let me explain.
One the (many) things that have kept me from posting more regularly is, and I realize this is stupid, I’ve never really liked to look of this site.
In a previous life I was a graphic designer, and I chose a specific template for this site because it was so customizable. I could fine-tune it to within an inch of its life and get it just perfect.
Problem was, I never could get it perfect, and I don’t know enough about code to get it right.
So I spent hours, too many hours, trying to tweak it. Try as I might, I just didn’t like it. At least not enough. And I got frustrated, so I spent less time on it.
And less.
And less.
And, finally, none at all. News flash to no one.
Years ago I took a blogging class, and one the first things they taught was, don’t worry about the design. At least not yet. Just write. Work on your content. Hone your craft.
I violated one of the core principles of Blogging 101, and my blog has nearly died as a result.
Okay, a little dramatic perhaps. But believe it or not, I just realized this today.
For the first time in ages, I logged in to the site (I could barely remember the password!). I eventually started skimming through the different themes that were available, to see if inspiration would strike.
It did.
After going through what seemed like hundreds, I found one I liked. A lot. Without thinking too much about it, I installed it.
I still really like it. And I also discovered, I can let go of being so picky about the design and focus more on just putting stuff up here.
And now I finally understand what people mean about how letting go can be so freeing. Imagine, I can just write stuff now!
Of course, I’m sure the design was just an excuse. And the way my brain works, it wouldn’t surprise me if I latch on to some other reason why I just can’t get around to getting that next post written.
But, at least for now, I’m going to call this a breakthrough and feel good about myself. We’ll see how long it’ll last.
It’s a new year (well, new-ish). I’m not much on resolutions, which is a cop-out way of admitting I never stick to them.
Still, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, The Beerverse has been dark for a while. Now, I could hand you a lot of excuses, but they’d be lies.
I’ve just been lame.
For whatever reason, the thought of coming up with ideas for posts, much less actually sitting down at the desk and banging out a few sentences, became too daunting. After coming home from work each day, it was WAY easier to flop on the couch and potato-out for an hour or five.
So that’s what happened. And before I knew it, slacking off for a few days turned into months of inactivity.
I was intrigued and looked into it, but scoffed when I saw the tuition (not cheap). So I figured that was that.
But, with strong encouragement from my wife, who’s grown tired of seeing her husband slowly turn into an extension of our living room furniture, I swallowed hard and plunked down the cash.
Yes, you’re looking at a newly minted Sonoma State Seawolf. (Don’t ask me how the basketball teams are doing, I really have no idea.)
So what does this have to do with resolutions? The biggest reason for going back to school (other than getting off the sofa for a few hours) is inspiration. I’m hoping being submersed in an academic setting once a week for 12 weeks, meeting like-minded people also eager for knowledge and listening to industry folks, will enable the blog posts to flow like beer from an open tap.
Best. Classroom. Ever.
Speaking of taps, I use the term “academic setting” pretty loosely. Class will be held in the loft space at Lagunitas, otherwise known as the employee break room. If you know anything about Lagunitas at all, it shouldn’t surprise you the loft space resembles pretty much any stoner’s basement you’ve ever seen, complete with low ceilings, dank lighting, and ratty couches.
Now add a bar and several taps, and you’ve got our “classroom.” (Insert “higher” education joke here.)
The course itself will be divided into three areas of emphasis:
Beer history and process, including brewing basics and quality control,
The business of beer, including equipment, laws and regulations, and distribution,
Beer appreciation, everything from styles to sensory analysis, how to conduct tastings, and food pairing.
Mr. Brooks will be laying down all this knowledge with the help of a boatload of guest speakers representing all aspects of the industry, from hop farmers, maltsters and yeast wranglers to brewers and marketers. Name pretty much any brewery in the Bay Area (and several more elsewhere), and they’ll be represented.
Tinkering with some design changes (as you can see), so bear with me. Probably gonna get worse before it gets better. Hopefully you’ll dig it once the dust settles.
