Point Counterpoint: Count Beer Festival Samples?

I've argued this in my head dozens of times. Is a 2 oz sample of a beer at a beer festival enough to consider that beer tried? Had? Consumed? Rate-able? What if you have two 2 oz samples? One right after the other. Or hours apart. Where is the cutoff? What if you're hammered? What if your writing's illegible? Why does it matter, it's only a personal quest anyway. Or is it? Are there unwritten rules or guidelines? Will I be outcast for improperly counting a beer as consumed and reviewed?

Like I said, I've had this conversation many times. Shall we take the questions one at a time?

In general, I say no. A 2 oz sample of a beer is not sufficient enough to officially (or unofficially) count. As far as the double sample goes, I'm less sure. Which is why I abide by the rule in my official journal that samples at a festival go in a separate category that goes uncounted in the year-end or lifetime tally.

Case in point: the 2009 City Pages Beer Fest, otherwise known as the biggest sanctioned college binge drinking session of the year. I shudder at calling this a real beer festival, but let's not be snobby now. It's somewhat of a gateway festival.

So why do beer samples at an event like this not make the cut? Shall we bullet point this?

1. Size matters. It's hard to get much depth out of a 2 oz sample, which is the only reason you need to not count them. You can usually tell if you'd like the beer or not, but it barely gets you two swigs worth. And forget about sticking your nose to the bottom of the plastic cup to garner worthwhile smell notes.
2. Samples are inconsistent. Some come from warm bottles. Bad pours. Cashed kegs. At an event like this, it's about speed for the pourer, not consistency.
3. Escalating intoxication. Three hours in, maybe that Michelob Honey Wheat (which I sampled) doesn't taste as bad as it did the first time. And maybe your buds are too shot to appreciate the step up from a Cold Spring Red River Trail Ale to a Sierra Nevada Southern Hemisphere Harvest.
4. Volunteers know nothing. Pour. Repeat. It's your job to figure out exactly what you're getting. I've had several occasions where the beer I'm told I'm drinking doesn't exist. See: Davis Hempinstein Ale.
5. Note-taking logistics. Drunken scribble on a damp napkin oftentimes doesn't look quite as clear the next day.

There probably are more reasons, but I don't think I need any. Maybe you've got additional ones, and I'd like to hear them. And if you'd argue that you can count these samples, I'd like to hear that argument as well.

Some fests, however, are plenty sufficient. Take Al's Blue Nile events, for instance. Even with a three-beer sampler, you get enough volume of each to have a clear idea of the beer's characteristics. Now, attending this event after you've spent all afternoon at the City Pages binger might not give you the clearest beer-rating head, but it does guarantee some interesting descriptions.

Of the 17 new beers I tried at the City Pages fest, I gave only five an above-average rating:

Sierra Nevada Southern Hemisphere Harvest (4 stars)
Big Sky IPA (4)
Widmer Brothers Drifter Pale Ale (3.5)
Lagunitas A Little Sumpin' Sumpin' Ale (3.5)
Rock Bottom Minneapolis Hopfen Konig IPL (3.5)

The Rock Bottom garner that rating simply because of the unique concept: they used an IPA recipe but substituted lager yeast. This is the kind of thing I'd like to see more of now that the jack-up-the-hops fetish has peaked. Let me see some innovation.

I've since had full pours of both the Sierra Nevada (on tap at Buster's on 28th) and Lagunitas (bottle from Heritage Liquor in Maplewood) and stuck by my initial ratings on both. Which brings the question back to the forefront: if my hazy, buzzed analysis is confirmed upon a full tasting, should more respect be given to the validity of festival samples?

Well, in certain cases, maybe. I speak mainly of the worst of the worst. The beers I'll never willingly try again, but deserve to be mentioned. Mentioned, that is, for their crimes. There were also five of those that Saturday afternoon (no links. If you want to research them, do so on your own):

Bohemia Clasica
Big Hold Headstrong Pale Ale
Cold Spring Red River Trail Ale
Michelob Honey Wheat
Moosehead Beer

There were perhaps a dozen more at least that I didn't have the chance to sample, including the certain abomination, Moosehead Light. Perhaps my head may have exploded upon that tasting. Also worth mentioning is Cold Spring's Honey Almond Weiss, which my counterpart could not finish. Keep in mind, these are 2 oz samples.

So can I count these? Please? I wouldn't mind the additional tallies, and it's likely I'll never have the chance to try them again. Still, the fairness-in-beer-tasting side of my brain says no. If you can't count the good, uncounted too go the bad.

Guess I know which crappy 12 packs I'll be buying for the next softball games.

Town Hall Duo

Though I live in Minneapolis, I don't make it to the best local brewpub, Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, nearly enough. This is something I've been saying I need to change for four years now. Nice atmosphere, new beers virtually every week, good food if you're interested. Luckily, I was able to find my way there twice in the past four days, and though I enjoyed only one beverage each time, both stops were well worth the barely ten minutes it takes me to get there. Plus, I FINALLY got to try the much ballyhooed Mango Mama, which has eluded me for all these years.

I stopped in Saturday afternoon with a California uncle (who has more Town Hall paraphernalia than I do), and both of us decided to try the seasonal cherry ale. Good reviews from the bartender. Won't get bad reviews from me, but I'd put them a half-star short of good. On the spectrum of cherry beers I've had, this one fits right about in the middle when it comes to both tartness and enjoyment. If a Belgian kriek is a ten on the tart scale, this one would be about a four I'd say, but it's not nearly as sweet as the sweetest of girly fruit beers I've had. And when you can compare every cherry beer you ever have to Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, nothing looks that bad.

Fairly easy to drink, especially on a sunny afternoon. Bonus points for drinkability perhaps, but I don't think I'd say I'd order another if I was presented with other options. Cherries were about the only detectable flavor, though, and while I can appreciate a delicate summer ale, I usually am looking for more of a kick. This was simply the appetizer for a huge day of beer. Did its job.

Tuesday evening, however, on a whim, I found myself back on the 7 Corner patio with a friend I wanted to introduce to the Minneapolis brewpub scene. Since we both work in St. Paul, and there are a handful of great beer options within a stone's throw of the 9-5, we rarely cross the river. Plus, there's this weird deal where people from St. Paul DO NOT venture into Minneapolis. Only out of necessity. I'm not a lifelong Minneapolitan, so I have no problems splitting my time, but seriously, weren't they ever curious? Didn't they ever see a restaurant review that intrigued them? No trips to the record stores? The coffee shops? The garage sales? Anything? This is a chapter in a book I'm not writing.

Anyway, I was expecting to enjoy a Cascale Ale, their first in a series of single hopped beers intended to help drinkers identify their favorite hop varieties. A nice idea. To my surprise, Mango Mama appeared on the whiteboard draught list! I was shocked enough that I yelled to the loitering waitresses as we walked in, embarassing my already hesitant St. Paulite companion.

I love the original Masala Mama, but had heard from various sources that the Mango tops it. The trouble is, it's rarely around for more than a day (Monday) and I haven't been able to find my way there in time to get one before. This was my night.

There was a tiny problem in this plot: I don't like mangoes. Don't hate them, but would never buy one. Is it perhaps because my wife is allergic to them? Doesn't help. But no, mangoes just don't do it for me. I'd rather have a pineapple, but there is no Pina Mama.

I'm living proof that you need not like mangoes to love the hell out of a Mango Mama. The sweetness was definitely present in the smell, but danced nicely with the bitter hops I associate with the Masala. And the sweet mango bounces off your lips instantly. Lingers for a bit, and then gives way to a majestic mouth-sweep of bitterness. It's interesting to read the reviews of this one, because half of them say the mango dominates, and half say the hops balance it out at the end. Place me squarely in the second camp. I did not think the mango was overbearing. At all.

This was a beer I wanted to make last two days. How good was it, you ask? With one solid swig left in my goblet, a moth found its way into my remaining suds and was unable to hoist itself out. I thought about it for a while, at first resigning myself to giving away that final sip, but then deciding I would be doing the beer an injustice by not finishing it. I have no fear of moths, but it's no fun fishing one out of a beer. But it had to be done. My companion agreed. After all, there haven't been any diagnosed cases of Moth Flu yet, have there?