"Why craft beer and oysters?" I asked. "Because those are the two things I know best," Shane replied.
New York City. For those of you who don't call this crazy place home, you really can't understand the small town feel of this place. "The what?!," you ask dumbfounded. I said, the small town feel---community, routine, rhythm, familiar faces and integrity.
You may not know it from the outside, but NYC is a patchwork of neighborhoods, a mosaic of people with different backgrounds and passions, all stepping up to the same deli counters, walking the same grocery aisles and sitting down at the same familiar bar stools. It's these comforts that help release the steam on the pressure cooker. Were you to wander through Times Square for more than an hour, you might just implode.
One needs the neighborhood here.
I, myself, haunt the East Village. It's where I work, its where I walk each day, noting the usual characters, discovering new enclaves and befriending fellow mates in the food/wine industry. Cocktail joints, beer geek havens, pork chapels, we've got them all. We're a strange lot in the hospitality industry; usually quirky, a bit geeky, overworked but always passionate... at least those who are doing things right. It's artistry and craftsmanship of the highest caliber. One such gentleman is Shane Covey.
Shane is the proprietor of Upstate Craft Beer & Oyster Bar, a small, cozy joint at First Avenue and 6th street. Walking in the 28-seat joint, one steps through a set of French doors filled with windows, reminding guests where they are each moment: the heart of the East Village. Shane (and his talented wife) have done two things: create a neighborhood joint for its residents and built the place with their own hands.
After disassembling a barn in upstate New York and transporting it to the city, they fashioned the lumber into the bar top, the tables and the chairs (there's a great photo montage of them building out the space on their blog). You can feel the authenticity at every turn.
Shane is doing exactly what he wants to do. "Offering simple, fresh seafood and pairing it with great-tasting regional beers," is the way he describes it. And get this...he doesn't own a freezer. He hits the market daily and fills the place with the treasures of the ocean he finds anew.
Featuring a menu with 20 different oysters and 8 draft beer lines (7 of which featured New York breweries on my last visit), the place is a wee chapel to the grain and to the sea. Seriously, I break into sweats of ravenous craving when I think about just how damn good the grilled squid is; fresh, simply grilled, near heavenly. If you start with great ingredients, don't mess with them; they'll speak for themselves.
This is how I want to dine. This is how I want to drink. The proprietors are there and you get to know each other. You share stories and you break bread together. This is what small towns are all about.
Starting this Sunday, and running for one week, countless gallons of hard apple cider will fill glasses throughout New York City and the Hudson Valley like never before. And after years of toiling away in relative obscurity, artisan producers from the Finger Lakes and throughout the Hudson Valley will expose there wares to a mostly naive public.
It's about time. We in the Northeastern United States have some of the best climactic and geographic conditions in the world for producing cider apples (learn more about the making of hard apple cider).
Two years ago, I was naive. Apple cider to me was either the plastic jugs of stuff my mom would buy when the weather got cold and heat on the stove with cinnamon sticks, or the dreaded rot-gut I had come across while an exchange student in England (going by unassuming names such as White Star or White Lightning). There was also an evil, foul drink that goes by the name of Snakebite (a mixture of lager and Strongbow) that had come out the wrong end of my digestive tract one too many times. These were the ciders I knew. But then I began to see the light...
Tasked with creating a cider list for our restaurant, I began calling our distributors and hesitantly setting up tastings. I began reading -- and I became intrigued.
It was sort of akin to drinking Natural Light your whole life thinking you understood beer, only to then be passed a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. What what? But this tastes nothing like beer! I done began to get myself ed-u-micated. And once your eyes are opened, it is near impossible to shut them again. This is a serious world of beverages, created by artisans of the highest order, that way too many people know nothing about.
Lo and behold, I have become a hard apple cider geek. I have been fortunate to meet many producers from near and far; I have tasted their range of styles from dry to sweet, still to sparkling. And I have come to appreciate the drink that graced the tables of the early American colonists because of its level of complexity and myriad of flavor.
And now, I am proud to say that on October 16, NY Cider Week comes to the masses. And, I know, that like me, your eyes will be opened to a beverage that is oft misunderstood and, all too often, underappreciated. It's time to get your apple on, people. It's time for cider to have its moment in the spotlight.
From October 16-23, the Glynwood Project has teamed up with these restaurants and bars to bring events, tastings, flights, food pairings and general geekery to the public. Be you a total novice or a refined lover of the hard stuff, its a chance to support the local producers (and their friends from afar) and reclaim the drink that our colonial brethren knew and loved so well.
Here's a few of my favorite New York producers to check out (click for more info):
And for a whole slew of information to satiate your apple curiosities, check out the Glynwood Project's website for more great, nerdy facts than you can shake a stick at: Cider Week Official Website
Like most great ideas, I am guessing it was born over a round of beers. But one thing I am sure of is that it wasn't born over a round of mass-produced swill. It had to be craft, and craft all the way.
Today, for the fourth year in a row, NY Craft Beer Week is locked, loaded and sprung tight like a crossbow waiting to fire. And this year is bigger, badder and tech-friendlier than ever before. Josh Schaffner and his crack crew (including the talented Amy Litt and Chris Cuzme) have put together a week of beer-soaked specials, dinners and events on a mind-boggling scale.
More than 175 NYC bars are participating, as well as nearly 30 great, beer-loving restaurants. If you aren't convinced that craft beer has taken this city by storm -- and trust me, I should know; ordering craft beer for the establishments I work for has become a mad scramble with limited releases selling out in hours -- think again.
Everyone wants a piece of the pie. And now that pie has come to you. And its piping hot.
Get out on the streets, buy a passport for a mere $10 Hamilton (or download it onto your Android or IPhone) or just pop in for one of the beer pairing menus at a revered restaurant you've always wanted to try. The passport is filled with coupons that entitle you to a $3 beer at each bar, so the deal repays itself in spades.
Rally behind the cause, fill your pint glass with the good stuff and let the taps flow. Support craft beer. And support New York.
Today marks the triumphant return of "What We Drank" after a brief late-summer hiatus.
As always, here's what our editors and contributors have been drinking.
Mark Grimaldi: Ameztoi "Rubentis" Txakolina 2010
Yes, rosé again. But not just any rosé.
Txakolina is always, if you can find it, the quintessential summer quaffer. Now make it a rosé and you've damn near found the key to life.
A close friend from the city brought this out to our house one weekend this spring.
That Monday after, I asked a friend who owns a local wine shop if he would order it for me, and after we all geeked out about it, he ended up getting three cases that we split among 4 of us. It's comprised of 50% Hondarribi Beltza and 50% Hondarribi Zuri from the Getaria region of Basque in Spain.
Simply put, this is hands down the best rosé I have ever had. I was floored. A beautiful light strawberry color, with a nose of peaches, raspberries and citrus.
It's perfectly fizzy, with stone fruits, sweet but tart fruit on the mid palate reminiscent of a fresh glass of cranberry juice, finished with a beam of tart, mouth-watering acid and the perfect effervescence of a club soda with tiny, palate-coating bubbles.
At an alcohol of 10.5%, we polished this bottle off so fast that it was dangerous. Be careful with this one, it's hard to have just one.
Rochelle Bilow: Sheldrake Point Vineyards 2010 Gewurztraminer
Because I am heavily involved with the release of the 2010 vintage of Finger Lakes Rieslings this month, it seems like they’re all I’m drinking. But that’s not so! I proved it on Sunday with Stu as we took a rare day of all play and no work in the Finger Lakes.
We set up a picnic on the lawn at Sheldrake Point on Cayuga Lake and opened a bottle of their 2010 Gewurztraminer. It has a tremendous floral and spice nose that follows through on the palate. It leans much more toward rose and dried lavender than the often-found tropical fruits, though there was a fair amount of lychee that cropped up after a few minutes in the glass. I find with all Gewurztraminer, but this one especially, that spending some time with the aroma is as fun as drinking it.
I loved this wine as an early fall choice – it feels more substantial and hefty than the Rieslings I’ve been drinking, but it’s still much more lighthearted than the Cabernet Francs and Meritage blends I’m not quite ready for.
Evan Dawson: Hermann J. Wiemer 2002 Blanc de Blancs
This was one of the rare occasions when we decided to open a sparkling wine to celebrate a big occasion. Typically, we try to incorporate sparkling as a nice food wine with friends, big occasion or not.
The wine world will be better off when sparkling wine is no longer viewed by many consumers as a strictly celebratory drink.
This wine was the first I grabbed from our sparkling rack. It has filled out nicely, a kind of baked bread coarsened by tingly acidity. Ideal sparkling wine for the region.
How was it that we allowed some mass-produced "champagne" to take us down this road of reserving such wines for festive occasions?
Aaron Estes: Templeton Rye
As much as I enjoy craft beer and New York wines, I grew up a scotch and whiskey drinker. On my 30th birthday, my father gave me a bottle of 30 year old Macallan that I continue to parse out, dram by dram, slowly but surely. I am hoping that it reaches my 40th birthday, as it is probably the finest whiskey I have ever tasted.
But I digress... This edition of WWD is about an American tradition that is gaining traction among those that follow what is hip and trendy. I am talking about rye.
A friend of mine, actually a fellow camp-mate from Burning Man (Thanks Genie!), first spoke of the taste and amazing qualities of Templeton Rye when we were on the Playa last year. Fashioned after the original recipe back in the days of Prohibition, Templeton out of Iowa is said to be created from the same recipe that Al Capone favored back in his days as the crime lord of Chicago. It was his preferred whiskey, and what he drank throughout his days while eluding the likes of Elliott Ness and the other members of the Chicago PD.
Can there be a better endorsement?
Templeton is smooth. Really smooth. It almost evaporates as soon as it hits the tongue. There is just a hint of smoke, but not harsh even in the slightest. A touch of sweetness, a bit of caramel, and a delicate scent of cedar on the nose.
This is a whiskey to be savored and cherished. I bring it out every now and then when I have had a difficult day at the office, or a weekend to share with friends who appreciate the same. Templeton is fantastic. I urge you all to find a bottle and enjoy a taste from American history.
Lenn Thompson: Ruckus Brewing Hoptimus Prime
Based on their performance, my favorite team, the Steelers, may not have realized it, but the NFL season kicked off over the weekend. I have a my myriad of superstitions tied to my watching of Steelers games -- and drinking at least one Pennsylvania-brewed beer during the game is chief among them.
Although Ruckus Brewing is headquartered in New York, NY, the beer is brewed in in Wilkes-Barre, PA -- not exactly Steelers country, but still within the boundaries of my home state.
Hoptimus Prime is a Double IPA style and it shows on the palate. There is some serious heft and density to the mouthfeel here.
The nose is classic American hoppiness -- all grapefruit and lemon with floral herbiness and just a little pine -- with some definite malty sweetness beneath.
I was actually a bit worried about that sweetness as I took my first sip, but I shouldn't have been. All those hops bring more than enough bitterness to scrub away the candy sugar and lift the citrus and pine qualities. It's a little thick for game day drinking (I started with it, but should have ended with it) but the bitterness nicely matched how I was feeling as I watched the game.
David Flaherty: Bonnezeaux, Chateau Perray Jouannet, Les Menus Clos, Loire, 2009
I don't get to drink enough sweet wines. Well..let me rephrase that, I don't get to drink enough good sweet wines.
For the last ten years that I have sold, studied, swirled and slugged wine, there has been one phrase uttered over and over again by people who are breaking into the world of wine (or at least trying to pick up a bottle that will impress the girl they're trying to woo): "I don't like sweet wines." And I get it. A lot of cheap swill has residual sugar and has gained a whack reputation (Boone's Strawberry Hill tonight, my darling?). But a lot of the great wines of the world are sweet...and white.
I tried a Bonnezeaux the other day at a tasting of Loire wines and was floored.
Such nervy acidity, such depth of character. Rich, honeyed fruit and such life, this liquid treasure could age and age for years to come. It sang from the glass.
Bonnezeaux is a tiny area of the western Loire in the Anjou region where only white, sweet wines are permitted under AOC law. It is chenin blanc at its most expressive. I took pause, sat back in my chair and zapped into the experience...and the moment.
That is what good wines do. Let me rephrase that: that is what great wines do.
Eataly is a phenomenon. A 50,000-square foot mecca to artisinal ingredients packed in the heart of NYC, adjacent to Madison Square Park.
It is a foodie's wonderland. To wander its packed lanes is like being in the hustle and bustle of Oz but where the Munchkins are full-size...and hungry. Seriously, you can see the saliva hanging off people's lips as they voraciously feast there eyes on the wondrous meats, cheeses, breads and pastas presented in glowing cases in every direction.
When it first opened a year ago, many predicted its failure. It was too large, too luxury (read: expensive) and with too many ego-fueled players involved (Mario Batali's face meets you at nearly every turn. Ah! The clog-wearing, pony-tailed, ginger bearded man again, Mommy!) A year in -- they're currently celebrating their anniversary -- and its a resounding success. Feel free to read about it on the hundreds of blog posting and magazine articles peppered throughout the planet.
What I am interested in is what's going on on top of the building: the Birreria Beer Garden, which requires one to enter on the ground floor with the slobbering masses, then take a side route to the elevator banks. A zip up to the 14th floor and you find yourself on top of the world, in plain sight of the Empire State Building.
Originally scheduled to open alongside (or on top of) the rest of the food and beverage operations below, Birreria was delayed (something to do with problems hoisting in the copper brew kettle system) and only in the last 60 days opened its roof.
Its a vast, somewhat industrial space decked out with a dining area, a retractable roof, and a long bar featuring large wine barrels that dispense wine. The wine is not actually in the barrel, mind you. "Nah. From boxes," was the reply when I asked if they actually held the vino he was pouring. Last night, it was packed with scenesters, financial types and tattooed beer geeks alike.
Featuring a revolving set of three cask beers which are brewed right there (oh mercy, this is a beautiful set of brewing equipment they have. As a homebrewer, I just might forever give up the taste of beer to own this shining, copper gem). Also, there is a rotating cast of draft and bottled beers from as close as Brooklyn (Six Point), upstate New York (Ommegang), and all the way from Italy—as well as from the far corner of the very patio on which you stand.
The Birreria Rooftop Beer Garden is a collaboration between some of the sickest, most creative, most entreprenurial (in my humble opinion) brewers in the scene today. Sam Caligione of Dogfish Head in Delaware; Teo Musso of Birra Baladin in Piedmont, Italy, Leonardo di Vincenzo of Birra del Borgo in Rome and Birreria’s own brewmaster, Brooks Carretta. The beers brewed on-site are cask-conditioned, unpasteurized and unfiltered ales.
I tried the Sofia, a Belgian wit brewed with peppercorns. Medium bodied, hazy and unfiltered. Spice notes on the nose and palate of cinnamon, clove, gingerbread and yeast with a dry finish. It had an interesting apricot flavor accented by black peppercorns and banana (from the yeast).
I'm curious to see the crowd that will settle in here once the trendsters and scenesters move on to the next newest, hottest, shiniest place. In the meantime, the concept is strong (artisan beers and artisan snacks), the beer selection is on-point and the service was great -- although when I asked the bartender which brewery one of the rare Italian beers was from, he replied "Birrificio." I asked again, "which brewery?" He said again, "Birrificio." I didn't have the heart in me to tell him that just means "brewery" in Italian. Perhaps Teo needs to fly over from Piedmont for a little crash course in Italian beer culture.
Birreria Beer Garden, in Eataly, 200 Fifth Avenue (entrance on 23rd Street, West of Fifth Avenue), (212) 937-8910
At 8 pm, amidst the sweltering steam bath of NYC, the Half Moon set sail on the East River. Aboard were 27 cases of German Riesling, 2 kegs of Gotham Project Riesling, about 40 tons of ice, 3 local bands, 1 German wine queen and 225 thirsty acidhounds. The Summer of Riesling sold-out boat cruise was underway.
Stepping aboard, the guests were greeted with a glass of Gotham Project Riesling from upstate NY in the Finger Lakes. From here on out, it was all German Riesling as the month of July has been devoted to the motherland.
While the musical stylings of The Nouvellas, Baby Brother and Grand Rapids played at the rear of the top level, the party-goers crammed the front of the ship a la Leonardo DiCaprio on the Titanic.
The NYC skyline proved the main draw and mouths sat limp and stunned as the sun began its descent through the sky. Reds, oranges and, eventually, purples danced over the buildings like watercolors on an artists palate. If only Bob Ross could have been there to set up his easel...
But the highlight? The Statue of Liberty. After sunset, the Half Moon dropped anchor in front of her majesty's sandaled feet and we just drifted. The sounds of rock music surrounded the boat like a glowing halo while my colleagues from Hearth and Terroir and I feverishly poured Riesling below deck at three separate bars. It was a fantastic frickin night.
And one that only could be held in New York City...
Here is what was poured:
Trocken, von Buhl Deidesheimer Herrgottsacker, 2009, Pfalz Trocken, Schloss Schonborn Estate, 2009, Rheingau Trocken, Keller, 2010, Rheinhessen Trocken, Donnhoff, 2010, Nahe Feinherb, Zilliken Saarburger, 2009, Saar Kabinett, Merkelbach Urziger Wurzgarten, 2010, Mosel Kabinett, Hexamer Meddersheimer Rheingrafenberg, 2009, Nahe Kabinett, Schloss Johannisberg, 2009, Rheingau Spatlese, von Hovel Oberemmeler Hutte, 2004; Mosel
You might be wondering where David Flaherty, our New York City Correpondent, has been the last couple of months.
He's in Europe, with his wife, visiting breweries, vineyards and other food and wine meccas. You can keep up with their travels via his blog, Grapes & Grains, but I wanted to share this video they shot in the Loire Valley with Nicolas Joly.
No, it's not New York, but it's timely what with all the 'natural' and 'biodynamic' discussion on the site in the wine world lately.
In the heart of Brooklyn, Brad Estabrooke is making gin that channels the spirit and soul of New York.
When I approached the storefront in Brooklyn, well after dark, I began to wonder if I should pull out my walkie-talkie and call for backup — oh wait, I haven't owned a walkie-talkie since I was 10…shit.
As I was contemplating the childhood devices that could provide comfort on this barren journey, I noticed light spilling out on to the sidewalk ahead. As I neared the wall of windows, I glanced inside and that's, that's when I saw the still. My eyes met her gleaming copper sides, her long tower, and her shiny knobs. I was breathless. In a state of awe, I wondered if this was some strange spaceship that could fly into deep space, or perhaps a vessel to burrow into the floor and take one to the center of the Earth. I had arrived.
To say Breuckelen Distilling Company's name properly, you need to lower your voice a bit, add a syllable between the "Brook" and the "lyn" and affect a slight Dutch twang…at least that's what I learned in the first moments upon entering. A few hours later, I left stunned at the level of commitment that this small team is bringing to craft distilling.
First and foremost, they are focused on their ingredients and their ability to capture them in their purest form.
Estabrooke, owner of Breuckelen Distilling, is an interesting cat. At the shockingly young age of 32, he stands on the brink of an industry run by (mostly) men twice his age, many of whom come from families with long histories of distilling. Brad, however — a former financial trader on Wall Street — is entirely self-taught. After eight years of selling bonds, Brad (though successful in his own small division) was laid-off along with his entire department. He found himself at a crossroads. Return to Wall Street or turn a new life chapter? He did what any of us would do, really. He went ice-climbing, of course. And after a month hiatus, returned to New York with a desire to work for himself. He decided to open a small-production, craft distillery.
With no previous experience making spirits, Brad set off to learn everything he could from books, tastings and consultations with other distillers. Though very soft-spoken and one who calmly moved about his high-ceilinged storefront, it was clear that Brad doesn't approach things lightly or half-heartedly. He dives in headfirst with nary a glance for a life preserver. He thrives in the deep end.
The distillery is larger than I expected. At the center of the room, like a Queen looking over her subjects, stands the still. Off to one side, a collection of shiny metal jugs fills the floor near a chemist's table cluttered with beakers and gadgets. Across the way on the far wall, pallets of grain are stacked in piles awaiting their conversion to mash. Large, blue drums stand at the ready, many with bubbling mashes in various stages of fermentation.
Everything, and I mean everything, is covered in a fine powder. "It's from the grain," Brad says, "which we mill ourselves at the start of the process. The flour gets all over the place."
His office (merely a wooden table, computer and chair) was cloaked in a white sheet reminiscent of a Civil War General's tent on the battlefield.
One of his first realizations upon getting started was that many spirits-makers begin their gin by purchasing bulk amounts of neutral grain spirit. They use this as the base for which their botanical blends — many will use between 5-30 different botanicals, with juniper being the predominant one — are built upon. This can be bought from mega-distilleries creating thousands of gallons of the stuff.
This fact didn't sit well with Brad. Why would one not make their entire product from scratch, using grain they'd hand-selected and techniques that were their own? The base spirit is more than just a base; it is the heart and soul of the gin. He quickly steered right while others went left, and soon found himself visiting farmers in upstate New York and bringing bags of wheat back to Brooklyn where the experimenting began.
Using a massive pot that was once used to make batches of tomato sauce large enough to feed an Italian brigade, Brad began methodically teaching himself how to mash, ferment and eventually distill his own grain spirit. In doing so, he is capturing the unique terroir of New York's grain. He estimates that this painstaking process consumes four-fifths of his team's time and energy. But it's worth it, as the flavor, the mouthfeel and the aromas are wholly unique. This is liquid New York, with a richness and viscosity unlike any gin I've tasted.
He's fueled by the city, too. “Working in Brooklyn is inspiring. There’s energy here from the community that’s centered on craft production, be it small restaurants and chefs, or shops focusing on artisan products. You feel it all around you," he said.
Using five different botanicals (juniper, lemon peel, rosemary, grapefruit and ginger), Brad stumbled upon another technique that is unusual in the field of gin making. While most distillers add their botanicals to the neutral grain spirit in the base of the still where they are steeped and distilled together — or another technique known as the Carter-Head where the botanicals are held in a basket at the top of the still where the alcoholic vapors pass through the blend — Brad does something entirely different. He distills each botanical separately. That’s right: separately. I was shocked too. He has perfected the distillation of lemon peel, of grapefruit, of juniper berries, ginger and rosemary.
Once all five botanicals are distilled, he blends them together to make his final product. It's a strange way to do things. Almost more like a mad chemist or a crazed mixologist would approach it. But the proof is in the pudding. It is like no other gin I've tried. Full flavored with a wonderful complexity where each botanical shines through. But the real focus of the gin? The New York grain. The mouthfeel of the gin is what makes you take notice. A rich viscosity holds the flavors together and confirms all this extra attention to detail is worth it.
I asked Brad how he came up with the blend of botanicals he now uses. “My girlfriend and I were at a restaurant a few years ago and we had this incredible risotto. It was simply flavored with lemon and rosemary. And I thought, this is it, this is the flavor I want at the heart of my gin”.
Hundreds of distillations later, he has done just that. The rosemary note gives the gin a savory quality; with the lemon and grapefruit rounding out the fruit characteristics; and the ginger giving a a spicy dismount on the finish.
Inspiration can come in strange places. But for Brad Estabrooke, it is the state of New York and the city of Brooklyn that he honors above all else.
(The first two photos in this story are courtesy of Breuckelen Distilling Company)
By David Flaherty, New York City Correspondent Photos by Chris Lehault of IDrunkThat.com
Like moths to a flame. Like lemmings to the edge of the cliff. Like schoolchildren to the tether ball pole, we came. From far and wide, the craft beer-lovin' fans of Brooklyn Brewery came Tuesday night in droves for the Main Engine Start launch party.
Brooklyn Brewery is expanding. And in a big way. Once fully completed, and with the estimated price tag of $6.5 million, the expansion will add 15 full-time, salaried employees to the mix.
I was astounded by the size of the new space. Entering through the normal front door on North 11 street, we were led to the right where the previous brewery ended. But now a short hallway exists, and when one passes through, the new space appears, gleaming and spacious. I wondered if they would be fueling 747s in here with Black Chocolate Stout instead of jet fuel.
In fact, this is only Phase 1. Phase 2 will involve taking over the adjacent space to this one, thereby creating an UBER-brewery. Phase 3 -- still in the planning stages -- will involve turning the entire borough of Brooklyn into one giant keg of Brooklyn Pennant Ale.
Once the entire project is complete, Brooklyn Brewery will have increased its capacity from 8,000 to 50,000 barrels per year, ensuring that their thirsty fans have beer to fill their bottomless steins. This will massively up the availability of their hugely popular (and quickly depleted) Brewmaster's Reserve Series, which they make on-sight and sell in keg and large-format bottle (their beers in twelve-ounce bottles will still be contract-brewed upstate in Utica at FX Matt Brewing).
In celebration of the new rumpus room, they've released their latest Brewmaster's Reserve, Main Engine Start, to celebrate the occasion. It is the first beer brewed on their shiny new equipment. Technically a Belgian "Abbey Singel"--a lighter style traditionally brewed by the monks for their own consumption -- it clocks in at a very drinkable, and very sessionable, 6.5% abv. In the bitter cold of February, I think many people were expecting a hearty, fuller rich beer to gird themselves from the weather. What we got was a tasty, light/medium-bodied beer with a slight hop zip and notes of fall cooking spices like clove and cinnamon.
Being the party it was, they opened up all their taps for attendees and poured the following (among others): Brown, Weiss, Lager, Black Chocolate Stout and Winter. Their were also some "secret" large-format bottles being cracked on the sly, as I talked to numerous people who were sipping on Local 1, Local 2 and Black Ops. All while being serenaded by the jazz and swing tunes of The Blue Vipers of Brooklyn.
I, myself, took to the Black Chocolate Stout like a baby does to the bottle. The only difference? This bottle packed a whopping 10% abv.
Boy, that alarm clock this morning was a demon incarnate. I think they should rename the beer "Velvet Hammer."
I'm a big fan of Glen Thunder Corn Whiskey, made by Finger Lakes Distilling. It's a pure, corn-filled ticket to the rolling hills of the Finger Lakes.
The nose, the palate, the finish — it's a corn-lover's dream. I purchased it for the restaurant a few months back. Surely, I wasn't expecting a rush on the bar, a throng of kernel-lovers beating down our door to get at it, but I was disappointed to see the demand (and the awareness) as small as it's been.
So, as with any relatively-unknown, beautifully-produced — but sadly neglected — artisan spirit, the surest way to the top is on the coveted cocktail page.
Any salesman or saleswoman in the spirits business knows this, and will claw their way over the bar, agree to wash dishes in the back, offer to walk your dog so you can enjoy a seven-day cruise in the Caribbean, anything to get their product in a cocktail. It's the gateway for any spirit to hit the tipping point of public brand awareness.
I've known this, and my crew of crack mixologists and I have benn hammering away at how to incorporate the Glen Thunder into a drink that will sing and be welcomed back at the table for seconds.
Last night, I think I cracked the code.
A cocktail's creation can stem from a million inspirations: the classics, well-known flavor combinations or even a remembrance of what Aunt Mable used to pour in a thimble for you when you were five years old and stuck home with the flu.
For this latest attempt, I was inspired by the idea of jalapeno cornbread. Could I capture that in a drink?
With any good attempt at mixology, you want the featured spirit to shine. All other components are there to prop it up, selflessly step back while it takes the curtain call.
So, first off, what are the flavors in jalapeno cornbread? Well, corn, of course, and heat. Hmm.... what's behind the bar? Ah, Tabasco, perfect.
What citrus goes well with spicy food? Well, I ain't gonna be squeezing grapefruit on my Chile Rellenos, so lime juice it is. Butter is taken care of with the rich, oily mouthfeel of the Glen Thunder.
And what do you put on cornbread besides butter? Jam. Hmm...ah, apricot brandy? It just might work.
After a couple of attempts, this turned out to be a solid start. We're gonna keep blowing out the possibilities (jalapeno-infused simple syrup, perhaps), but the following recipe turned out pretty tasty
And the name — I mean, come on, every cocktail needs a good name — Coot Mathews. An old friend of John Wayne's, he was an oil well firefighter in Texas. Putting out fires with grit, grace and boldness. An awesome combination and a fitting name.
After turning down a rather desolate block of Brooklyn, and not totally sure of my directions, I was greeted by a man wearing a t-shirt that said “Beer Helps.” I knew I was in the right place. I had found Kelso of Brooklyn and I had found Kelly Taylor.
One of the largest breweries in New York State lies in the heart of Brooklyn. It’s right under our noses and much to the surprise of many New Yorkers who stroll by; they stop dead in their tracks at the sight of an army of massive, metallic, fermenters looking back at them. The sight is awe-inspiring. (Especially if you're a wee homebrewer, like myself, who's entire brewery fits in a corner behind my grandfather's Lazy Boy chair–well, "fit" is a relative word, "billowing forth from" is more appropriate).
Taylor is a professional Brewmaster of the highest ilk. He has nearly 20 years of brewing experience and sees to it that taps all over this city are flowing and that an armada of kegs is leaving his doors on a daily basis.
Running 16 fermenters at once is akin to conducting a symphony. In addition to “maestro”, Kelly Taylor holds many titles under the roof of 529 Waverly Avenue. He is the founder and brewmaster of local craft beer favorite, Kelso of Brooklyn, the brewmaster for Heartland Brewery (servicing all seven locations), as well as a contract brewer for many other brands. Now let's stop here for a moment. This is important, because this is where the story gets interesting. "Contract brewing"? What is that, you ask? Well, saddle up, cowpokes; I'm going to tell you a tale.
Many of our favorite beers are brewed hundreds of miles away from the actual breweries, sometimes even in an entirely different state. And this happens more than most people realize. Enjoying a 12-oz. bottle from Brooklyn Brewery? It was brewed in upstate New York. How's that Blue Point Toasted Lager taste? Yep, it’s brewed hours away from Long Island. Six Point Sweet Action? Pennsylvania. Harlem Brewing Company? Fire Island Brewing? Southampton Publick House?
Yep, most of their beer is made many miles from the actually brewery they call home.
Now, this is not to say that no beer is brewed at the home breweries. In the case of Brooklyn Brewery, all large-format bottles and kegs are brewed on-site, and this is the case of many others, as well. But when a brewery finds success in the market, they often simply don't have the operational infrastructure to keep up with demand. Trust me, if you’ve seen Six Point Brewery, you know it's tiny. There is no way they can keep up with the demand. So what do they do? They turn to guys like Kelly Taylor.
I recently visited Kelly at his brewery, got the lowdown on how he juggles it all and was struck by the size of the operation. The brewery has a total capacity of 30-barrels (approximately 60 kegs of beer) with many beers being made at once, and all at different stages of the brewing process.
“I’m all over the place,” Kelly told me. “Some days in the field with customers, some days in the brewery. Brewhouse days start with grinding grain, getting grain into the mash tun with hot water, cleaning kegs, loading outbound deliveries, filtering, kegging and cleaning tanks. Rather involved.”
Along with a team of five employees, Kelly and his crew produce around 14,000 barrels (28,000 kegs) per year. He is fueled by passion and like most brewers, he is not in it for the money or the glory. He is in it because he loves to make beer. And after drinking his beers for years, I was excited to meet him.
A laid-back spirit who exuds an easy demeanor and a quick smile met me at the door. After introducing himself and seeming to shrug off the brewery to get to more important matters, he eagerly led me up a staircase to an industrial, lived-in office. He lit up like a light bulb when he introduced his wife, Sonja (pictured at right), who makes up the second half of the brewery’s name (Kelly + Sonja = Kelso) and also runs the marketing and social media interests for Kelso.
They seemed a close pair who over the years had come into harmony with the ups-and-downs of the brewing business and wore their positions with comfortability and ease. Their young daughter (Gabrielle, 4 1/2 years old) and son (Cameron, 6 1/2 months old) seemed completely relaxed with the searing temperatures in the office. They too, knew the score.
After Sonja and the kids jumped in the car, I followed Kelly to the brewery floor. As with any winery or brewery tour, it is only customary that a glass quickly ends up in your hand, and this was no exception. As we sipped on Kelso Pilsner right from the brew tank, Kelly explained what was looming all around. The brewery had been built to house the beers of the quickly-expanding Heartland Brewery enterprise. There was room to grow and Kelly seized the opportunity to fill the space with even more fermenters, filtering tanks, gizmos and gadgets to meet the demands of Heartland and to take on other clients.
Within a few years, the up-and-coming teams from Sixpoint Brewing and Coney Island Brewing (now familiar names in the craft beer world) were showing up with their recipes and bottles of homebrew that they wished to multiply from small batch to small lake. Kelly was their point-person and helped make their dreams a reality. To take a beer and, with an expert palate and a recipe, know how to produce it on a mass scale is a skill akin to a master chef who sees the roadmap in his mind from raw components to completed dishes. And like a cook that has trained with many chefs and picked up techniques along the way, Kelly, through his many clients, has been exposed to new ingredients and differing approaches to brewing.
Over time, he decided to put his own stamp on the craft beer world. He opened Kelso of Brooklyn in 2006 and has been cranking out top-notch beer ever since. “It was my opportunity to make my own beer, on my own terms, while still maintaining creatively making beers with Heartland.”
I was amazed how he kept it all together. In addition to Kelso’s entire line, the beer for seven busy Heartland brewpubs come out of this location -- year-round selections and seasonal beers -- as well as any number of clients who’s beers are produced here.
“I like the ‘manufacturing’ side of it,” he says. “Juggling all this can be stressful, sure, but I enjoy it. In the early days of Heartland, we did all the brewing on-site at Union Square, our first location. I had to coordinate with the cooks because if we were brewing when they were using the dishwasher, we’d lose water pressure. It was a constant struggle.”
If he wanted a bigger operation, he certainly got it. I asked him how they kept track of it all and he led me through a maze of equipment until we arrived at the far wall. He pointed to two dry-erase boards.
“This is where the brewmaster leaves notes to the employees on what needs to be done that day”.
The larger dry-erase board tells what beers are where and at what stage of production, be it a Kelso Saison ready for filtration, or a palate of kegs, which needs to be loaded onto a truck. It was nearly comical to see this all kept on a haphazard-looking grid with marker residue that had been applied and wiped so many times that it looked like a teacher’s blackboard with chalk build-up from countless alphabet lessons.
And I was struck by Kelly’s ease with the whole place. He seemed so comfortable in the maze of machinery and endless pipes running in all directions. I guess that would only make sense, considering he designed the place.
“I had them run this pipe over our heads so we wouldn’t have to step over it, and at just this height, so I wouldn’t have to crouch down to pass underneath it all day.” (He’s a tall guy, clocking in somewhere in the ballpark of 6’2”). The brewery seemed more and more like his living room.
He walked me to the far side of the building where a new keg room is under construction. It is massive and will free the team from having to cram keg after keg into the small fridge they have now. We joked about needing to move all the palates out of the way to get to a beer buried in the back; he said this happens all the time. But, never fear, they’ve added yet another dry-erase board to help organize it. We shared a laugh and he told us how the keg room nearly disappeared the previous week.
“I was in the office and heard a loud boom. I ran downstairs to find that one of the guys had clipped the wall of the keg room with the forklift and had taken down the side wall. The boom was the sound of the entire ceiling collapsing.”
But Kelly quickly found a solution, as he does for all the countless problems that pop up in the brewery. They ran massive log beams over the ceiling of the room, which essentially stabilized the whole thing, therefore making it forklift-proof.
It was then that our glasses went dry for what must have been the third or fourth time (we also tried the Kelso Satisfaction, an English-style Bitter). Ever the gracious host, he walked us back to the “lounge” area (a haphazard old table covered with dust and various tools) and we gathered around and shared another pint. It was the Kelso IPA and it was delicious. It was made by one of his team members.
“I’ll let the guys use what ingredients we have left over to get creative with their own recipes and we’ll produce our favorite. This was the winning one from the recent batch”. The hops were so bright and the flavors so fresh that I wished I could drink every beer for the rest of my life right from the source. I had found the Fountain of Youth.
Kelly is an eager soul and always looking to take on more challenges. His eyes burn with focus as he talks about helping new breweries find their feet and the ways in which he wants to expand the outreach of Kelso. He believes passionately in supporting the community and is constantly juggling events and hosting fundraisers. His motto since day one has been “Brew local and drink fresh.”
While he is clearly proud of his beer, his employees and his business, he comes across as a grounded man who is in it for the long haul. He’s not in a rush for the latest, greatest fad or the flashiest marketing campaign. He is a solid force. And his beers speak for themselves. “I love beer. It’s a remarkable, complex beverage. I brew for subtle flavors most of the time. I'm not a big 'hammer over the head' kind of brewer.”
And the t-shirt that greeted me at the beginning of the night? Well, the term “Beer Helps” sums it up for him. Be it a charitable cause or a local organization, his goal is “to help, as much as we can, those that share our hope for improving the world one small step at a time. And, fortunately, beer helps raise money. We try to improve every day and we challenge others to do the same, at home and at work”. He cares about his environmental impact. He cares about community and family. And he cares about beer. Not a shabby list, if you ask me…
In addition to this story for NYCR, I also put together this short video for my blog Grapes & Grains. In it, you can get a look at the facility and the dry-erase boards I mention above.
Over the years, we've had several people cover New York City for us, but I think (hope) we've finally found a long-term solution -- David Flaherty, who you may already know as the man behind the great NYC-based blog Grapes & Grains.
In addition to his amble blogging duties, David works as the Operations Manager for Hearth
Restaurant and Terroir
Wine Bar in NYC's East Village and Tribeca.
He holds a Level 3 Advanced Certificate with Distinction from the Wine and Spirits
Educational Trust and has built relationships in the wine industry
from such countries and regions as Chile, Napa Valley, New Zealand,
Finger Lakes, Rioja, Barossa and Long Island.
His passion and knowledge have been developed from working in the
restaurant, bar and retail wine industry for more than fifteen years. In
addition to food and wine, he is also digging on spirits, with a
fascination for mixology and fine bourbons.
Raised in Fort Collins, he also has a well-devleoped appreciation for specialty beers. Now an enthusiastic
homebrewer, he is a member of the American Homebrewers Association and
the NYC Homebrewers Guild.
For the New York Cork Report, he'll
cover the breweries and urban wineries of New York City. And, now that I know he's into spirits too, he may just have to write about some New York-made spirits for us as well.
You may not know it from the outside, but NYC is a patchwork of neighborhoods, a mosaic of people with different backgrounds and passions, all stepping up to the same deli counters, walking the same grocery aisles and sitting down at the same familiar bar stools. It's these comforts that help release the steam on the pressure cooker. Were you to wander through Times Square for more than an hour, you might just implode. 
Shane is doing exactly what he wants to do. "Offering simple, fresh seafood and pairing it with great-tasting regional beers," is the way he describes it. And get this...he doesn't own a freezer. He hits the market daily and fills the place with the treasures of the ocean he finds anew.
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