Mikkeller Big Worse

Breweries these days are finding all sorts of interesting ways to do business. Nano-scale, alternating proprietorships, and taproom-only sales are all part of the brewery landscape. These business models allow a brewery open with minimal up-front capital or to reap the full profit from every pint sold.

Contract brewing is also still very much a part of the picture; a brand-holding company paying another brewery to make their product. It’s a controversial practice that has fierce adherents on both sides, who fling arguments both pro and con. Are these entities actually breweries? Are they just leeches trying to cash in on the boom without making the commitment – both financial and physical – to the cause? Whatever you think, the practice is here to stay and it’s here in a big way. You probably drink and love many contract-brewed beers without even knowing it.

The controversy spills over to the alternating proprietorship arrangement in which two or more fully-licensed entities share a brewing facility. Although each one is responsible for their own label approval, ingredient procurement, tax reckoning, and all the other nitty-gritty of running a brewery, in some cases all of the beer is actually brewed by only one of them. Often one of the breweries isn’t even on site when the beer is made.  It may even be headquartered in another state. Aren’t these really just contract brewers? Or is this really something else?

And what are we to make of gypsy brewers, also called tenant brewers. Beer makers like Pretty Things Beer and Ale Project, Mikkeller, and Minnesota’s own Blacklist Brewing have no physical brewery. They move from place to place, making different beers at each one. In the case of Mikkeller, these landlord breweries are spread out all over the world. The idea of migrant brewing sounds romantic. I have even heard Mikkeller praised for the practice. But doesn’t this make Mikkeller just another contract brewer? Does that even matter if the beer is good?

Here’s my notes:

Mikkeller Big WorseBig Worse
Mikkeller at De Proef Brouwerij, Lochristi-Hufte, Belgium
Style: Barleywine
Serving Style: 12.7 oz. bottle

Aroma: Round and rich caramel malt. Pleasant, floral alcohol cuts through the caramel sweetness. Hop aroma is low to none. Some sherry-like oxidative notes. Underneath, smells of vanilla custard and candied oranges add depth. Three Cs – custard, caramel, and candied oranges.

Appearance: Full head of creamy, ivory foam. Very good retention. Mahogany red and clear.

Flavor: Flavors very much follow the aroma, with gentle hop bitterness and citrusy hop flavors thrown into the mix. Caramel malt and fruity esters lead – those candied oranges again. A sweep of bitterness rolls in shortly thereafter to keep the sweetness in check, but with a delicate touch. The buttery caramel makes a comeback at the roof of the mouth, joined by bright notes of citrus –lemons – as well as some darker fruits – dates.  Alcohol is in there too, perhaps a tad intrusive. The beer goes out semi-dry with lingering bitterness and oranges.

Mouthfeel: Medium-full body – remarkably light for 12% ABV. Carbonation is medium-low. Creamy. Warming.

Overall Impression: The luscious aromatics draw me in, beckoning me to sip. But I just want to keep smelling. The palate is rewarded by that sip, though. This is a remarkably drinkable 12% brew. Light almost. Neither clinging like some strong English barleywines, nor tongue scraping like many of their American counterparts.

Sonic Foamer Ultrasonic Beer Surger

A while back I received an email from the marketer of a device called the Sonic Foamer. This coaster-like gizmo promises to deliver an enhanced beer-drinking experience by using ultrasonic vibrations to excite the CO2 in beer. At the push of a button these sound waves raise a thick, creamy head that propels the beer’s aromas from the glass. And as the company’s promotional video correctly states, most of what we taste is actually what we smell.

Guinness introduced an identical device in Great Britain in 2006 that they called the Guinness Surger. Its success must have been limited, as it seems now to only be available used on Amazon or Ebay. This current iteration was discovered in Japan where it is marketed as Sonic Hour, a play on the Japanese word for foam, “Awa.” The Japanese manufacturer Takara Tomy Arts makes all sorts of fun devices to foam your beer.

When I got the email I was intrigued. Who doesn’t want an enhanced beer-drinking experience? Who doesn’t like a fluffy cap of foam on their beer? Actually in this country a lot of people don’t, but that’s for another post.

I was intrigued, but I also had one big question nagging at my noggin. Why do I need this device? I can raise a perfectly fine head of foam just by executing a proper pour. And I’m accustomed to swirling my glass periodically to maintain that frothy aroma delivery system. Do I really need an extra gadget cluttering up my life to do something that I am capable of doing with just a glass and my hands? Does the Sonic Foamer deliver such stellar results that it bests the old-school, analog method?

I decided to put it to the test. I tested two beers, Sam Adams Boston Lager and Sierra Nevada Kellerweiss. I split each equally into two identical, clean glasses. For one I used the Sonic Foamer according to instructions. The other was handled the old-fashioned way. I tested for aroma and foam.

Sonic Foamer Test #1

The Pour

The Sonic Foamer user’s manual instructs you to pour the beer without foam. It takes effort to pour a headless beer. The Foamer needed to leap a pretty high bar to make that extra effort worth it. In this case it didn’t deliver.

swirl vs surgeThe head raised by the Foamer was perfectly formed – beautifully smooth and creamy with exquisitely fine and uniform bubbles. It was much nicer looking, but shorter lived than the foam on the traditionally poured glass. By the time the head was gone on the Sonic Foamer beer I still had a good half inch on the other.

The aromatic delivery was disappointing. The traditionally-poured glass had much fuller and brighter hop and yeast character.

The Extended Experience

The user’s manual recommends keeping the Sonic Foamer nearby. When the head dies down, simply place the beer and push the button. That is what I did, periodically surging the Sonic Foamer test glass and swirling the other.

With every surge the Foamer delivered a gorgeous one-inch head. The perfectly formed head was consistently creamy and uniform. The swirled head fell short in this aesthetic evaluation. It was smaller, had inconsistent bubbles and shorter retention.

The aromatics were a wash. I could not discern any difference between the aromas of the surged versus the swirled glass.

Conclusion

So does the Sonic Foamer live up to its claims? Yes it does. It promises to deliver and maintain a perfect head that will carry the aromas out of the glass and into your nose. It does that. The foam raised by the device is aesthetically superior to that of a normally poured and swirled glass. It really is beautiful. And I’ll add that the thing is fun to watch. The bubbles form like magic in the glass with every push of the button. And those bubbles do deliver aroma.

But to answer my initial question of whether or not I need the thing, I have to say no. The actual drinking experience brought by the Sonic Foamer was just on par with the old-school method, and actually inferior on the initial pour. It’s easier to pour normally and swirl occasionally. And I don’t have to replace batteries in my arm.

And in case you’re curious, as I was, it takes about 30 surges to completely decarbonate a beer.