Five Days on the Colorado Ale Trail

Abandon All Hope, Ye That Enter Here.

It’s been about a week, but I’m still recovering from my three-city tour of Colorado based around the Great American Beer Festival. And I’m still amazed, after more than ten years of writing about beer (among other topics) for the likes of Food+Wine, Men’s Journal, Popular Mechanics, National Geographic Adventure, Outside, and many others, that it was my first ever trip to the Big One, the mother of all beer events, the endless pour…

Big it is. Surreal, too. Moments after I checked into Hotel Teatro in Denver I found myself with some 160 other accredited journalists (from the beverage media trade, mostly, including some familiar faces I was glad to see) in a white-tablecloth dining room beneath the Marriott. Denver’s popular Democratic Mayor, John Hickenlooper, was about to make some remarks. I’d barely shaken off the general skeeziness of flying and my airport “breakfast” at 7AM when I sat down to a remarkably haute beer and food pairing. Buffalo carpaccio, meet Del Norte Brewing Co.’s Mañana Amber Lager. Tender Beef Cheek, meet Deschutes Black Butte Porter. Things were off to a good start, indeed…

“Beer is in our DNA,” Hickenlooper declared, as we tucked into our beer-centered lunch. A former wildcatter, he’d made a satchel of cash before the oil crash sent him into the beer biz in the mid 1980s. He opened the Rockies’ first brewpub, Wynkoop, a downtown staple, and though Hoop couldn’t join us, we later visited that spacious beerthedral he’d bestowed upon Denver with Oskar Blues‘ Marty Jones. Speaking of visionaries, Marty Jones is undoubtedly one, too. We’d merely jawed many a time by phone, and it was a pleasure to meet the man who helped launch America’s first craft beer in a can.

The same afternon we hit the Falling Rock Tap House and the excellent Great Divide Brewery before even making it to the festival itself, on Friday early evening, inside Denver’s massive Convention Center. There the mayhem unfolds at a dizzying pace. With some 14 acres of beer possibilities before you — a literally endless supply of beers to try — the mind reels. Crowds line up. The air is chilled and volunteers stand ready, the clamor growing by the second. There’s Sam Calagione of  Dogfish Head with a line 70 people deep waiting to try his ‘Palo Santo’ and other wild creations. There’s Tomme Arthur of Lost Abbey with his fans and a host of hard-to-find Belgian ales. And that’s just the start: there are over 450 other breweries represented, serving some 2,000 beers. It’s a sight to behold, a sight to love. I felt like I’d come home. I really can’t vouch for the convention-goers that attended the other events on in the facility that night — a sextoy convention, and a “women of faith” gathering — but I was in Heaven.

Ten years ago when I started writing about beer, after my year-long tour of ancient brewing methods through fourteen countries in West Africa and Europe, funded by the Thomas J. Watson Foundation, the American beer scene was a bit in a funk. There were 700 breweries and brewpubs, sure, but a slowdown had beset the industry like a rolling blackout, leaving scores of brewkettles cold across the land. Venture capital was drying up. Phony contract brews were carving away precious shelf space from upstarts who couldn’t spare an inch.

But the lull was simply that and little more. Nothing could stop what New Albion, Sierra Nevada, Anchor, Boston Beer Co., and so many other path-breaking American craft brewers started in the end of the 1970s and early 1980s. Today, American craft beer is riding an all-time high. There are now over 1,500 breweries across the land. Scores of publications cover the industry, with bold new regionals, established nationals, and several more on the way. And the best of the brewers bring their freshest beer to GABF. For any serious beer lover, it’s a must-attend event.

After Friday night’s session and a long Saturday afternoon tasting with an old beer-loving friend from 5280 (Denver’s solid city magazine), it was time to settle into the long beer list at the Falling Rock Tap House, where brewers and beer fanatics congregate like teammates in a bullpen. You couldn’t walk three inches with a tippy pint glass of beer before running into famed brewmasters like Garrett Oliver (of Brooklyn Brewery) or New Belgium’s Peter Bouckaert.

The next day dawned bright, warm, and breezy, all the better for the hiking I’d planned to do with Dan and Tessa Shelton, of Shelton Bros., a noted importer of rare European beers I’d met in 1997 while on my life-changing beer pilgrimage. After I had an amazing breakfast of fried green tomatoes at Table 6, We hauled ourselves to Boulder for a hike up the Royal Arch, a breathtaking granite span in the Flatirons. The mile-high altitude — we’re both flatlanders now, despite having respectable outdoor pedigrees — and 2000′ of climbing up the mountainside had us sweating like a couple of suburban fattypants wearing Chuck-E-Cheese costumes. Fortunately Dan’s friends brought ice cold Upslope Pale Ales, which we cracked, laying around on the rocks below Royal Arch like a spray of half-dead lizards. But the beer saved us. Revived, yet out of beer, we down-climbed to the car, then noshed at Boulder’s The Kitchen, where beer Sommelier Ray Decker has put put together a fine list complementing The Kitchen’s farm-to-table fare. Safe to say everyone slept like logs on Sunday night.

My tour wasn’t over yet; early Monday morning I headed straight north an hour to the charming town of Fort Collins (a small city, really, at around 135,000 residents), where a remarkable concentration of breweries big and small holds the community together with infectious goodwill. First stop was Coopersmith, where posters from the Denver Beer Festival going back to 1990 and a photo of a regular on Everest’s summit told me I was in a solid spot. The barbecue brisket sandwich came recommended, and I wasn’t disappointed. Nor did the beers disappoint, especially a pleasantly acidic kriek, not a beer style to be trifled with.

Following lunch it was time to tour Anheuser Busch’s plant, a stop I unironically recommend. ‘What in Holy Hell?’ the craft beer lover shrieks? Blasphemy!  I’m serious. For any lover of beer, this is a stop worth making for one simple reason: perspective. Take the “Brewmaster’s Tour” and you’ll see a lauter tun that looks like something out of ‘Independence Day‘. You’ll gape at a canning line churning out Bud Light at a rate of 33 cans per second. And you’ll taste something remarkable, in this writer’s book: unfiltered Bud Light. Yes, I know, it’s 40% rice. But after the so-called Beechwood aging (it’s real wood, I can at least tell you that much), and before filtration and pasteurization has rent the last of any remaining flaws asunder, Bud Light has an appealing flavor. Boycott me if you will, Beer Geek Nation. Cackle on, HopDruid74. I don’t care. It’s surprisingly good. (For the record, I suggested that the manager tell her superiors, and when Bud Light’s own version of Mahr’s ‘Ungespundet Hefetrub‘comes out and makes hundreds of millions, I’ll expect a fat paycheck, and you’ll wonder what exactly the world has come to. With Bud Light Golden Wheat suddenly a national brand, suddenly Bud “kellerbier” doesn’t sound so crazy, now does it?

Odell’s was next on my list. When we arrived, brewery spokesperson Amanda Johnson was helping set up for a cask tapping of Isolation Ale, a 5.2% winter warmer. Just two days since the Big One had wrapped up, and another event was clicking into gear. But it was what was going on backstage, as it were, that is the most exciting. Odell’s (makers of a popular Scottish ale called ‘90 Schilling’ which my writing partner for Men’s Journal Seth Fletcher and I placed on this year’s list of America’s best 25 beers) is in the middle of a massive expansion. After a tour of the work site, we saddled up to the bar for some remarkable recent creations, like Angry Robin, an English strong ale aged in Merlot barrels and spiked with a dash of brettanomyces bacteria, giving it a “barnyardy” kick. The bar filled up as the sun descended, and as we made our way through the brewery’s current line up, including the delicious session-appropriate “5 Barrel Ale (named for the company’s original system, still in use next to the newfangled gear), I learned a remarkable fact. In all, there are five married couples who met or work together at the brewery. Which is a sizable chunk of the staff. It might be the happiest place in America.

After a solid two hour bike ride along the Pouder river Tuesday morning it was time for my last stop before dashing back to Denver, New Belgium Brewery. There Brian Simpson led me through a tour many had touted as the best they’d ever taken. And while I’ve been to well over 100 breweries in my day, I am never, ever tired of exploring another. This is beer travel at its best.

The vast shiny whir of machinery that is New Belgium’s perfectly engineered automatic packaging line might be its central nervous system, but its beating heart is surely found in an unassuming corner of a storage warehouse behind the taproom. There, 16 massive “fouders” — massive French oak fermenters — stand in a tower of golden wood and iron bands. New Belgium has been a pioneer in introducing Americans to a Belgian Style called Oud Flanders Red (or Brown), of which the crowning example is generally thought to be (Belgium’s) Rodenbach Grand Cru. The American company New Belgium’s version is called La Folie, and it’s a polarizing beer. Now marketed through the brewery’s Lips of Faith line, it’s uncompromisingly tart, with a bracing flavor profile that can sucker-punch the unprepared. To others, La Folie is nothing short of nectar.

A friend had told me (a bit conspiriatorially) that once I’d gained this inner sanctum, I needed only to sample Fouders 1,3, and 13. And when I brought this little nugget of intel up to the brewers as we made our way back to the grove of tanks, they greeted my request with wry grins. He knows, their smiling faces said.

There we pulled samples of the vinous ales into little snifters. Each was unique, now exuding pineappley aromas and tangerine-like tartness, now chewy red wine tannins and sour cherries. For grins we made an impromtu blend of one and three, and compared our results.

I could have spent an entire day here, wandering among the massive casks. But it was time to get back to the airport. Brian gave me bottles of Le Fleur Misseur (another earthy specialty beer in the Lips of Faith line) and La Folie to check in my luggage, which was soon rearranged in complicated beer-protecting, leak-proof fashion. It worked. I’m looking forward to my next tastes of these beers, to the next trip to the great breweries of Colorado, and, especially, more whispered beer secrets on the fly and far away.

GABF Weekend Beers Sampled (partial list), after the jump.

Allagash White

Allagash Confluence

Alpine Duet

Ballast Point Sculpin IPA

Bear Republic Global Kolsch

Bear Republic Racer 5

Ommegang Adoration

Ommegang Biere de Mars

Hottenroth Berliner Weisse

Deschutes Black Butte Porter

Deschutes Brewery Black IPA

Deschutes Red Chair IPA

Deschutes Hop Trip

Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar

Jolly Pumpkin Maracaibo Especial Brown

Jolly Pumpkin La Roja

Jolly Pumpkin Calabaza Blanca

Dogfish Chicha

Dogfish Palo Santo

Elysian Jasmine Avatar IPA

Firestone Walker Pale 31

Firestone Walker Parabola

Great Divide Samurai

Great Divide Denver Pale Ale

Great Divide Titan IPA

Green Flash Le Freak

Kona Castaway IPA

Left Hand Polestar Pilsner

Maui Big Swell IPA

New Belgium Le Fleur Messeur

Odell’s Brett Barrel Brown

Odell’s Angry Robin

Odell’s Friek

Odell’s 90 Shilling

Odell’s St. Lupulin

Odell’s IPA

Odell’s Isolation Ale

Odell’s Cutthroat Porter

Odell’s 5 Barrel Ale

Coopersmith:

Columbine Kolsch

Belgian Style Kriek

Punjabi Pale Ale

Sigda’s Green Chile

Horsetooth Stout

Oktoberfest

Del Norte Manana Amber

Bend Brewing Co. Rocky Stein Lager

Estes Park/Long/s Peak Rasberry Wheat

Oskar Blues Dale’s Pale Ale

Oskar Blues Gordon

Russian River Blind Pig IPA

Russian River Pliny the Elder

Sierra Nevada Kellerweiss

Soutthampton Double White

Soutthampton Trappist IPA Reserve

Trumer Pils

Upslope Pale Pale

Victory Wild Devil

Weyerbacher Double Simcoe IPA

Wild Mountain Smokehouse Hop Diggity

Steamworks Steam Engine Lager

Steamworks Colorado Kolsch

Steamworks Conductor Imperial IPA

Anheuser Busch:

Bud Lite Golden Wheat

Bud Lite

Shock Top

Michelob Marzen

Michelob Jack’s Pumpkin Spice

Budweiser American Ale

Bud Lite Lime

Michelob Honey Lager

Wild Blue

Michelob Pale Ale

Dunkelweisse

Unfiltered Bud Light

New Belgium:

Mothership Wit

Biere De Mars

Ranger IPA (test batch about to be launched)

Fouders 1,3, and 13 (these are the 12′ tall oak fermenters used to age La Folie…)

Translatlantic Kriek

Dandelion Ale

Other

Saison Dupont (on draught. ick)

XX Bitter