By Jonathan McNamara

What makes a rogue? I couldn’t help wondering as I stumbled over to the Rogue Web site after sampling their Dead Guy Ale. The qualifications are numerous (ten to be exact) and include such gems as “rogues pursue the long shot” and “rogues ignore the accepted patterns and blaze their own trails.”

Maybe this explains why they would associate their maibock beer (typically enjoyed during spring) with November’s All Souls Day. Perhaps this is where the “long shot” comes into play.

I don’t have the answer to this particular quandary, but I can tell you that Rogue Brewing produces an army of ales including a few hand-picked by Iron Chef Japanese himself, Masaharu Morimoto.

Spring time souls and and iron chefs aside, we have an important matter to discuss. Is Dead Guy Ale a brew worth dying for?

More

By Jonathan McNamara

I know, I know. Rest assured that we'll be diving back into your regularly scheduled dose of legitimate brew review next week (in fact, I'm currently securing some samples at the recommendation of Al the Pal) but this time around I'd like to focus on something that caught my attention just last night: Red Bull Cola. I know it's not beer, but consider that your favorite keg-tapping, watering holes are about one marketing campaign away from being deluged in the stuff. If we are to beat the enemy we had better know what we're up against, yeah?

First some background: I am a caffeine addict. Which is why when I was approached by a duo of Red Bull girls with their gleaming smiles and seemingly innocent requests, I accepted this new product with open arms despite the immeasurable decibels of my internal warning bells; clanging as though the dark forces of Hell were approaching my vicinity.

Tastes: It's a hot summer day and you find yourself near a 7-11. "Slurpee!" you think and head off to purchase a frozen confection. Yet fate has something terrible in store for you: the cola flavor Slurpee is not quite frozen. Choosing not to go for the "Wild Cherry" you opt to drink the not-quite-frozen cola flavor instead. Imagine that flavor in an overly-designed 8.4 oz. can and you now know precisely how Red Bull Cola tastes; exactly like unfrozen cola Slurpee syrup.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

I haven't enjoyed it (not entirely true) but lately I've been sucking down a lot of sweet-tasting beers in order to prevent you, the reader, from following in my sickeningly sweet foot steps. Though I've penned these saccharine-laced reviews in the hopes of assisting you in your own quest for great brews, I have been met with a bit of disagreement especially in response to my review of Papago Brewing's No Hoplo Ingles. Reader Al suggests I try a "Kasteel Donker" if I want to experience a decent sweet beer. Thanks for the suggesting, (p)Al.

In the mean time, there is one beer that gets that's got this sweet routine down or at the very least it's a lot closer than any of the other candy beers I've tasted: Hitachino Nest's Sweet Stout.

Ah! The tiny Japanese beer with the owl on the label strikes again!

More

By Jonathan McNamara

It's a fond childhood memory based on a last minute solution from my dad. I was attending summer camp and had to pack a bagged lunch each day. To keep my food refrigerated in the traveling medium of a paper bag, pops would freeze boxed Minute Maid fruit juice for me. Eventually I looked forward to getting at the improvised slushie at the end of my lunch more than the food.

This nostalgia washed over me as I poured the first fruity sip of Wild Blue Blueberry Lager into my mouth. Ah! This berry taste! This chilly refreshment! Finally a beer whose primary demographic is summer campers...wait a minute here.

Tastes: In all seriousness (or at least as much as I can muster for a beer with a picture of a slobbering, drunk, blue bull dog on the label) Wild Blue's blueberry flavor is not a subtle hint of the antioxidant-packed fruit found most often in delicious muffins. Nay! It is a sledgehammer of blueberry flavor direct to your temple without so much as a "pardon me." Peach, apricot and similar fruits used to flavor brews work (better) because they provide only the suggestion of the fruit.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Be not free of worries when you face the inebriated monk statues that stand guard in the various sections of Papago Brewing in Scottsdale. Behind their calm exterior lies a secret: they brew beer not with tender love and care but with a balls-to-the-wall sense of the extreme.

There are dozens of beers on tap at this seemingly humble spot nestled in the Papago shopping center. You’ve no doubt heard of many of them including Flying Dog, Ska Brewing and of course mother’s milk itself, Guinness.

On this Brew Review outing I had no interest in any of those draughts. It was Papago Brewing brand beers I was after. What I found was two beers with tastes Herculean in strength: No Hoplo Ingles and Ryan’s Red.

Taste: extreme. My bartender described No Hoplo Ingles as a Chimay clone. Interesting, because I’d classify it as Chimay’s older brother who used to punch Chimay in the face. The Chimay taste you’d expect is there, but so is more sugar than you’d ever dream of adding to your Kool-aid as a snot-nosed youngin’. This was sweet as the most decadent birthday cake. I remarked as much and the woman sitting next to me said, “Yeah, that one’s my favorite.”

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Before pineapple was packaged in fruit cups or placed next to Canadian bacon on stuffed-crust pizzas, it was a symbol for “welcome.” Take a look at the older towns on the East Coast and you’ll see pineapples built right into the architecture.

It makes sense then that the Roosevelt, a bar whose wooden floors and high ceilings make it feel like a part of the East Coast right here in the desert, would have a house beer that tastes of pineapple.

Now you may think that you know where this review is headed, but refrain from clicking off to read “Budget Beat” or something and remove those Del Monte notions from your head. The Roosevelt House Ale does taste of pineapple but in a remarkably good way.

New Times fans will remember that the Roosevelt House Ale won a "Best Of Phoenix" award last year. Journalistically speaking, it's important to do your own reporting. So despite the glowing review this beer has received from my comrades, I decided to judge for myself. Hey, when "reporting" consists of downing a pint how can I resist?

Tastes: like a citrus disappearing act. You’ll smell the tart citrus taste before it hits your tongue. When it does you’ll see what I mean about the pineapple flavor for a brief moment. At the back end of each sip, the pineapple notes disappear replaced by a satisfyingly hoppy flavor.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

"Can I help you find something," said a genuinely enthusiastic grocery store employee as I stood in front of the beer section.

"No thanks," I replied. "I've found what I was after, I'm just trying to decide which one of these to get."

I was referring to Hitachino Nest's Red Rice Ale and Sweet Stout, which upon indicating to the store employee made her nose crinkle in slight disgust.

"Those are a little weird," she said.

That was all she had to say. I bought a bottle of both excited to find out what she meant by "a little weird."

The last time I got my beer-craving lips around a Hitachino Nest product it was their White Ale. Avid Brew Review readers will remember that I claimed that drinking said beer was like consuming magic delicately brewed to taste vaguely of flowers. It was an outstanding experience, but not something I would want to imbibe on a daily basis.

Hitachino Nest's Red Rice Ale struck me as something that might be a bit more akin to a daily beer, so I left the Sweet Stout in my fridge and cracked the other one open (and a million literary professors are surprised to find foreshadowing in a blog-based beer review).

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Here on Brew Review we’ve analyzed beer from a religious perspective; we’ve looked at it in terms of refreshment; we’ve criticized certain bottles for their blatant novelty and more.

Today we’ll be looking at beer as a mood enhancer.

I’d just popped in to Casey Moore’s Oyster Bar on Ash in Tempe with a friend and fancied a local brew with an air of summer to it. I was given the recommendation of Four Peaks Brewing Company’s Hefeweizen, which I accepted appreciatively. I was about to squeeze my lemon when I got a pat on the back.

A rather large man with features I would describe as hairy pointed to a nearly empty, fluted cocktail glass sweating on the counter.

“That’s my drink,” he said. I glanced at it only to hear him address me once more. “This is my seat.”

I moved, but I must admit I was put off by this gentleman’s gruff demeanor. I sat down at another table commenting to my friend about our associate’s lack of manners when I once again picked up my lemon and squeezed it.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

I've been told by several family members and friends that the number of drinks one should consume when looking to have a good time is three. "Thou shalt drink only three," they would say. "No more...no less." I was told not to drink four drinks or only two unless I then proceeded to three. Five, they said, was right out.

There are many drinks I would consume three of; Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale is not one of them.

After tasting this brew, it's not hard to imagine Importer Eurobrew, buying up case after case from the discount bins of UK liquor shops with aspirations of taking advantage of the well-documented weakness Americans have for British comedy and pushing this swill on us to make a tidy profit.

Tastes: like drinking a loaf of bread. I'm not a brew master; nor am I a baker, but I do know that a beer that tastes of activated yeast is not a good thing. Imagine slurping a loaf of Wonder Bread through a straw and you're about there.

I had mine: at Duck and Decanter while watching Lappy Hour mutts find new homes. My bartender assured me (when I asked) that Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale is more than just a novelty beer.

There is a certain level of excellence I would expect from anything with the Monty Python name stamped onto it. Maybe I should have only been expecting comedic excellence because the joke was certainly on me. While in possession of a brilliant label design (complete with a crossed out "G" and "R" in the word "Grail") it crucially lacks a decent tasting drink within its shapely brown bottle.

Goes with: Spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam spam spam and spam and spam.

Verdict: The best thing about drinking Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale is calling up your friends to inform them of your discovery. No, really! It's Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale. And then like a curious wizard on the Bridge of Death, the excitement is hurled into the void and you're left only with the knowledge that you bought into a novelty beer.

By Jonathan McNamara

It's a shame I like this beer so much. If I didn't, I would tell you that this beer tastes like what you get a face full of when you lift a kilt: ass.

Alas, blasting Tempe-based Four Peaks Brewing Company's Kiltlifter was not meant to be as I find it delicious.

Tastes: like a beer I could drink every day. There is a hint of pepper at the front end of this beer which slides into a sweet flavor at the end of every sip. It reminds me of adding pepper or salt to deserts to emphasize the inherent sweetness. Despite a full flavor, Kiltlifter remains light enough that you could throw a few back just about anytime without worrying about the dreaded lead gut effect of heavier beers.

I had mine: While greeting the morn, me bagpipes in hand, as I stood atop the Scottish Highlands. Okay, I really had it at home while surfing around the net. Yet that too is part of the allure of this beer. Four Peaks brews can be purchased at neighborhood grocery stores. There's no need to venture out to some dive to enjoy this local beer.

Goes with: tartan-patterned skirts for men.

Verdict: If there could be only one beer, I would not name this highlander-inspired draught as my first choice. That being said, there is a lot to like here. Drink it often, comfortable in the knowledge that you're about to enjoy a beer as crisp and refreshing as the wind of the Scottish highlands blowing between your pasty, white legs.

By Jonathan McNamara

Before we get on to the brew, I’d like to ask you to read past the jump to learn about the first (potentially of many depending on how this one goes) Brew Review contest. Please read to the end!

Carling is a familiar beer brand to anyone who frequents Canada, South Africa and the United Kingdom. The brand was founded in 1840 when Thomas Carling started a small brewing operation to sell beer to soldiers at the local military camp. Now 168 year later, Carling has pioneered the beer industry by combining frothy brew with technological wizardry in the form of the iPint.

Simply download the iPint and your iPhone or iPod Touch becomes a technological marvel that fills with Carling beer at the press of a button.

Tastes: a bit disappointing. In fact, I couldn’t taste it at all. How do you get the damn beer out of the iPhone?

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Any experienced Japan-o-phile can tell you that the country’s major beers taste pretty much the same. It’s true. Whether your slugging down a Sapporo, Kirin, Asahi or Ebisu you won’t know which one you’re drinking for sure unless you look at the label.

Mind you, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Japanese beer is extremely light and ultra-refreshing which makes downing a few mugs (or several hundred tiny glasses poured by someone else) over Takoyaki an absolute delight.

Hitachino Nest has completely bypassed this concept of uniform beer manufacturing. If Asahi Super Dry is the drink most consumed by Japanese business men, Hitachino Nest’s White Ale is the beer most enjoyed by roving bands of Kabuki actors.

Tastes: like flower-flavored magic. Produced in a sake brewery in Ibaraki Japan, Hitachino Nest’s White Ale has a surprising floral essence to it. Don’t shrug this off like a flavored beer though. It may be a bit too delicate for dark beer drinkers, but those who can appreciate the subtlety of a beer filled with floral essence might make this their new favorite ale.

I had mine: Shortly after purchasing it from Bevmo! At Tempe Marketplace. This is the only place I’ve seen Hitachino Nest products so far.

Goes with: sitting on patios conversing with friends or writing haikus. No, seriously. Hitachino Nest White Ale has a flavor so unique and mild that I recommend enjoying it without food if possible. Save the Kirin gold for your sashimi and bust out the White Ale as a meal-closing beverage.

Verdict: I’m not sure what mana tastes like, but this has to be pretty close. Savor every delicious drop of these 11.2 oz. beauties on special occasions. An everyday beer it is not, but it has the potential to alter mental states through its beautiful complexity.

By Jonathan McNamara

Someone ought to get in touch with the marketing department at Ska Brewing.

Yes, that’s right. I used the word “ska” as in punk with a horn section, “Mirror in the Bathroom,” Reel Big Fish, etc. The marketing dilemma this brewery suffers begins with incorporating Ska into their branding. They even admit on the Web site that “although there is evidence dating beer back to the Sumerians nearly 5000 years ago, Ska can only be traced to Jamaica in the late 1950’s.”

Still, while beer and Ska have little in common, I like both so we’ll forgive them for that.

This of course brings us to…

This week’s brew: Nefarious Ten Pin Imperial Porter from Ska Brewing in Durango Colorado.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

I’ve been betrayed.

Past experience and a few bumper stickers have lead me to believe that beer is liquid proof that the gods want us to be happy. Oh, how I have been living in naivety!

I took a chance on a beer labeled with a chili pepper covered in what appears to be magma but could just as easily be the blood of innocent beer drinkers who met their end when they reached for this slop hoping for something refreshing and tasty.

I popped the cap off of the 12 ounce bottle and walked a few feet away to throw it away when I detected a hissing sound. Did I leave the water on? Has my stereo shorted out? No. It was the beer. It was warning me like a rattlesnake moments before it strikes.

Summoning what was left of my courage, I walked back over to the bottle, grasped it in my hand and took a little sniff of what I was about to ingest. As my nostrils burned with noxious fumes, I knew I was in trouble.

This week’s brew: Cave Creek Chili Beer. Cave Creek describes their chili beer as “A premium lager beer with a chili pepper added.” Sure enough, there is a serrano pepper inside every bottle of what otherwise appears to be a normal bottle of beer. What Cave Creek neglects to inform us of is the effect this pointy, green bastard has on the bottle’s other contents.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Avid New Times readers may be under the impression that working here is a never-ending party. We cover concerts. We write about sexist chocolates. We get to have our say about the actions of public officials. But believe me when I say there are times when working at this paper does feel like a real job.

As I sat contemplating this and sipping beer on company time at Gordon Biersch on Mill Avenue, I realized that this was not one of those times.

Gordon Biersch Brewery and Restaurant invited New Times to the unveiling of their new seasonal Sommer Gold. Sections of the restaurant were roped off for Gordon Biersch VIP members to enjoy the an exclusive, first taste of the new golden brew tapped from a wooden cask.

Call this my second office.

This week's brew: Gordon Biersch's Sommer Gold. Does it live up to its VIP presentation?

More

By Jonathan McNamara

Even the great Hindu sage Valmiki surely could not have predicted that when he penned life into Hanuman, the monkey god in the Hindu epic The Ramayana, the character would end up on a bottle of beer.

Yet that's exactly what seems to have happened as an ape-faced deity sits plastered (pun intended) on Arizona-based Nimbus Brewing Company's labels.

This week's brew: Today we'll determine if Nimbus' Oatmeal Stout is fit for a god.

Tastes: Clean. Prior to letting the roasted, amber liquid hit my tongue, my nostrils detected a crisp cleanliness. Dark beer fans will have no trouble downing a few mugs of Oatmeal Stout without the unfortunate lead stomach effect other stout beers tend to result in. The oatmeal included in the brewing process gives this beer a soft finish with absolutely no aftertaste.

More

By Jonathan McNamara

As the headline suggests, you've just stumbled into a new Chow Bella segment focused on the gods' proof that they want us to be happy: beer. Keep checking back each week for reviews of the sudsy stuff.

This week's brew: Oak Creek Brewing Co.'s Nut Brown Ale. Sedona-based Oak Creek Brewing Co. has a selection of microbrews including a Bavarian Wheat Beer.

How did their Nut Brown Ale stack up?

Tastes: Like sugar. I would expect some sort of nut-based sweetness to this beer from the name, but what I got was just plain, old glucose. Imagine spooning a few heaping helpings of Equal into a Shiner Bock and you'll know where I'm coming from on this.

More