BRING THIS OUT: Goose Island Sofie 2009

Sofie is effervescent beauty in a glass and is almost painful to cellar when a freshly bottled version is so delicious. Still, even beauty can evolve, and after two years in our cellar, this vintage emerges in spectacular fashion. Fresh, Sofie is a vibrant, sparkling ale that bursts with funky Brettanomyces yeast flavors and peppery saison notes. Today, those qualities have quieted, making room for some of the richer flavors this beer has to offer: Soft vanilla and muted white pepper scents envelop that earthy Brett aroma, while orange and lemon add brightness to the bouquet. On the tongue, the beer’s gone creamy; it slips down the palate as vanilla, white pepper and banana sink into the taste buds, and floral-toned orange zest and Brett tartness jab the back of the mouth. Ending extremely dry, lingering orange zest rides through the finish.

LAY THIS DOWN: New Belgium Lips of Faith Vrienden

This wild ale is a collaboration between the powerhouse teams at New Belgium and Allagash. Brewed with hibiscus and endive, Vrienden trades an aggressive mouthfeel for an intriguing earthy blend of flavors. Today, this auburn beer’s aroma injects herbal notes into sweet doughy malts, while a light Brett funk and lactobacillus sourness linger in the air. Rustic Brett flavors land on the tongue first, before a swell of hibiscus and endive adds floral, tealike flavors to the toasty malt. Sour lacto pinches the sides of the tongue while tartness settles in the back. This beer’s enjoyable today, but a year in the cellar will cause the earthier tones to cede to fruity sweetness, accentuating the beer’s hibiscus.

A handful of die-hard beer makers are sticking strictly to lagers, but they’re far from one-note outfits. Here, the lager-only breweries that almost make us forget what ales us:

Chicago

METROPOLITAN BREWING

Chicagoland taps are the only source for this two-year-old production brewery’s suds; don’t miss the versatile Dynamo Copper Lager, a Vienna style, and the seriously sessionable Krankshaft Kölsch.

Whitsett, N.C.

RED OAK BREWERY

Just three lagers—an amber, a helles and a bock—comprise the lineup at this Carolina outfit; Red Oak Amber, brewed with yeast from the Weihenstephan brewery, just debuted in bottles across the state.

Minneapolis

THE HERKIMER

This loosely German-styled brewpub outdoes its mac and cheese only with its beer. The brewing team scored GABF gold with its mellow Sky Pilot Kellerbier; we like the Gose Speziell Weizen, a tart wit-weizen hybrid.

Bellingham, Wa.

CHUCKANUT BREWERY & KITCHEN

Veteran brewer Will Kemper sneaks the occasional ale into his kettle, but lagers like the smooth, roasty Schwarzbier and the clean, toasty Altbier rule the six rotating taps.

At the entrance to eccentric, self-made billionaire David Walsh’s subterranean Museum of Old and New Art (MONA), just opened in Hobart, Tasmania, in January, you’ll find a bar. “I like the idea of people having a couple of beers and looking at art—then having more and changing their opinions,” he says. With a goal to “shock, offend, challenge and entertain,” the new museum houses Walsh’s eclectic personal collection, valued at $100 million and ranging from Roman coins to mummies to pieces by Damien Hirst; there’s even an entire room filled with Wim Delvoye’s “Cloaca,” an installation that simulates the human digestive system. Unconventional, immense and labyrinthine, the museum is merely the most recent addition to Walsh’s 8-acre tract along the Derwent River. It joins a complex of übermodern hotel pavilions, a winery, a gourmet restaurant and Moo Brew, a microbrewery. Boasting taps and bottles throughout Australia, Moo Brew crafts five styles, among them an American pale ale and a barrel-aged imperial stout. Eerie labels by Australian sculptor-painter John Kelly bring the art full circle. moorilla.com.au -Becca Hensley

Like the rest of Buena Vista, Colo., Eddyline Restaurant & Brewery largely owes its existence to the world-class whitewater of the Arkansas River, which tumbles within earshot of the brewery and attracts thousands of thrillseekers. This laid-back brewpub reflects the town’s Rocky Mountain river culture: A dangling raft presides over the airy dining room, the beer sampler is served on a locally crafted paddle, and even its name is derived from a river feature. Founded in 2009 by outdoor junkies Mic and Molley Heynekamp, the taps at Eddyline are dedicated to Mic’s creations, like the nutty, vaguely sweet Kickin’ Back Amber; the crisp, grapefruit-filled Midland Trail Pale Ale; and the impenetrably dark, coffee-noted Pine Creek Porter. The menu sources backyard ingredients, like grass-fed beef raised nine miles away. 926 S. Main St., eddylinebrewery.com -Sarah L. Stewart

[Photo: Jessica Wunderlich]

On a trip to Slovenia, writer Lee Klancher finds his lineage in a can of Lasko.

We were sitting in my second-aunt’s living room in Savna Pec, Slovenia, when I told my bus-driving cousin Bustien that I was going to climb Mount Triglav. A past Slovenian president had declared that all “true Slovenians” should summit Triglav, and thousands climb the 9,396-foot peak each year.

My cousin halted his impromptu performance on a battered accordion, took a long pull on a 20-ounce can of Lasko beer, and looked me straight in the eye.

“Listen carefully,” he said. “I have important information for you.”

Bustien wasn’t concerned that I would slip off and plunge to my death. (At the time, I had no idea “hiking” up Triglav entailed crossing thousand-foot drops while clinging to spikes.) His advice concerned more important things. Namely, beer.

Malt beverages have played a role in Klancher family entertainment since my grandfather set off 12 sticks of dynamite inside a milk can (and was deaf for a week as a result). I followed his lead with libation-fueled shenanigans of my own, most of them involving explosives, dirt bikes or shotguns.

The deviancy of my youth resurfaced about five years ago when I quit a decent book publishing job in order to make a living writing and photographing motorcycle journeys, collectible farm tractors and anything related to beer.

I had always assumed my thirst for madcap adventures was the result of a crossed wire in my brain, or possibly one too many keg stands in college. On a travel assignment to ride ATVs with professional athletes with minimal lower body mobility in Slovenia that morphed into a family trip to visit distant relatives, I discovered the draw to beer was more deeply implanted.

I met a relative, Jurij Potokar, who was the head of maintenance at the Lasko Brewery. He arranged a tour of the facility, and slipped me a few cases of the sweet, dry lager when we left. More ties emerged while visiting another relative’s farm. After sampling the matriach’s infamous potica (a walnut pastry), we headed across the street to a tiny bar owned by the family. Judging from the steady stream of pitchers flowing to the rough-hewn wooden tables that afternoon, owning a bar that my family frequents is money in the bank.

Over a plate of fresh seafood, tall glasses of beer and shots of slivovitz (plum brandy) at a seaside restaurant in Piran, my new friend Jani Trdina shed additional light on Slovenian drinking predilections. Jani delightedly told me that the first two translations in a popular Slovenian phrase book were, “I’m pregnant” and “Can I have another beer?”

In this culture, hiking and beer drinking aren’t mutually exclusive endeavors. When I made a 1,000-foot ascent near Bohinj, a rocky, rugged path led me to a pristine meadow near an alpine lake. There sat a two-story, cedar-covered lodge; I took a seat and handed two Euros to a server who brought back a 20-ounce glass of Lasko. Such lodges, or doms, offer hot food, a rustic bed and cold beer on nearly every mountaintop in the Slovenian hiking system, including Mount Triglav.

Back in my second-aunt’s living room, my cousin gripped my shoulder in his beefy right hand, leaned close, and shared his advice about my upcoming ascent.

“I climbed Triglav,” he said. “Two times. Both for woman I love.”

He pulled me closer.

“The beer on top is very expensive,” he said. “You must carry a case or two with you.” •

Author and photographer Lee Klancher has published more than two dozen books on tractors, motorcycles and beer. He lives in Austin, Texas; follow him at LeeKlancher.com.

[Illustration: Ted McGrath]

Admitted tech geek and Cherry Voodoo Brewing founder Yuri Green on giving back to the beverage that saw him through drastic weight loss and taught him the meaning of camaraderie.

As told to Brian Yaeger

Life is driven by obsessions. It’s what makes me annoying, but it makes me successful. I don’t do anything unless I can see my inspiration through to the ultimate in domination, which applies to my still-infant brewery, Cherry Voodoo Brewing in San Francisco. I’ve guaranteed my partners that we’ll make a million dollars starting from the first year; by our 10th year, we’ll be making ten million dollars. We’re the Lamborghini of beer—even if there’s no physical brewery yet.

Beer is my latest obsession, but I used to hate the stuff. A few years ago at my unhealthiest when I weighed 410 pounds, I was also a chain smoker. Looking for a place to ash, I spotted a six-pack of Deschutes Black Butte Porter that my wife bought. I only opened one to have somewhere to put my cigarette ashes, but figured I shouldn’t let the beer go to waste. That was my first craft beer experience, and soon enough, I was conducting “Thirsty Thursdays” at the tech company where I work, sampling as many beers as possible. That first taste of Gulden Draak began my love affair with Belgians.

My wife soon grew sick of my trips to BevMo!, where my receipts usually ran upward of $200. To add to my spending, I’ve always loved chemistry. I had to know what it was about the brewing process that separated, for example, IPAs from schwarzbiers. So I took up homebrewing and brought my first batch to an experienced homebrewing friend, Alex, to ask for his opinion and some guidance. He said, “You know what? It’s perfect. I can’t believe how fast you did this.”

Brewing followed the same trajectory as my earlier passions. It all started with Wolfenstein 3D. I had to know how that video game worked. That game spawned my hardcore geekery, and eventually I majored in electrical engineering, aspiring to be the biggest hacker of all time. I still have the Wolfenstein 31⁄2-inch floppy disk on my desk at Hewlett Packard. It’s where I’ve worked ever since HP bought Snapfish, the photo-sharing site of which I am a principal architect.

That kind of geekdom comes naturally to me. I was always the fat kid. And that moment where I discovered craft beer was also when my second daughter was born. When my wife joked about doing a triathlon, I trained so hard I lost more than 200 pounds in less than a year, sometimes losing over 12 pounds a week. For every race I entered, I won my category, Clydesdales, who are male triathletes who weigh at least 200 pounds.

As within the software arena, I found myself not having any true friends because I wanted to stomp my fellow triathletes. But I’m actually a very social person, so despite being ultrahealthy physically, it didn’t seem healthy and, to my sponsors’ chagrin, I got out. I’d overshot my goal and slimmed down to 191 pounds, but my beer intake has since put a bit back on.

When I say I’m going to do something, I either come really close and nearly kill myself getting there, or it’s simply done, which is the approach I’m taking to brewing. As an engineer, I knew I could achieve the same results time and again. And because I was disenchanted with the tech world, I looked at the brewing industry as selling something real; I don’t have to sell you on some speculative software that will change your life. Because beer is real and good, I’m looking forward to doing something that’s devoid of that theoretical crap for once. Having said that, when Snapfish launched in 2000, it was 128th in the marketplace for photo output. Now it’s No. 1.

Cherry Voodoo will run like a dot-com, and I started by raising half a million dollars. I won’t be done until I can sell it to AB-InBev or whoever for $150 million. We’re not even licensed yet, but I’m putting everything into this. I know there are a lot of breweries that fail. But none of them are owned by me. We have a business strategy, tried-and-true cost management and a sales model I’ve seen work in countless other operations. I’ve constructed the most perfect team available to me to get Cherry Voodoo there. We’re way too smart to let Cherry Voodoo disappear into just another failure statistic.

Perhaps the best aspect of all is that the brewing industry is the polar opposite of the tech and triathlon worlds where everyone is out to crush you. There’s real camaraderie. And it’s open-source; I love the communal aspect. I don’t have to hurt my competitors in order to help myself. •

Cherry Voodoo Brewing will launch this winter with five beers, including a tripel, a 32%-ABV stout and two IPAs. Follow the brewery’s progress at CherryVoodoo.com.

Brewers are teaming up with poets, chefs and neighboring breweries in 2011 to create the latest round of collaborative beers.

BROOKLYN & THE ITALIAN NEOREALIST

Brooklyn Brewery teams up with Italy’s Birra Amarcord this year to create Amarcord Special Reserve, a unique beer that employs sloe berries, local sour cherries and honey, paying homage to Italian poet, director and playwright Tonino Guerra. Look for bottles clad in Guerra’s artwork this fall.

SHMALTZ & THE MEADERY

Shmaltz heads to the honey pot in 2011 to create a sweet collaboration with Colorado’s Redstone Meadery. Expect a blend of Redstone Traditional Mountain Honey Wine and Coney Island Albino Python early this year.

GOOSE ISLAND & THE CHEFS

Two special Goose Island collaborations with some of Chicago’s brightest culinary minds will hit shelves early this year: Marisol, a fruit-and-spice “Latin white ale” made in conjunction with Frontera Grill chef Rick Bayless, and a yet-to-be-named barrel-aged sour ale brewed with C-House chef Marcus Samuelsson.

KARL STRAUSS & THE DOG PACK

Karl Strauss and Flying Dog hit it off at last year’s SAVOR event in Washington, D.C., so this year they joined forces for an East-meets-West brew. The brewers will travel cross-country to each other’s facilities to make a dark, heavily hopped Belgian ale; watch for a draft debut in May during American Craft Beer Week, and bottles on both coasts by June.

DUCK-RABBIT & THE NEIGHBORS

For the past two years, Duck-Rabbit’s Paul Philippon has teamed with Foothills Brewing in Winston-Salem, N.C., and Olde Hickory Brewery in Hickory, N.C., to blend each brewery’s Russian imperial stouts in 23-year-old Pappy Van Winkle bourbon barrels. Another round of rich, bourbon-spiked beer will pour in the region come early winter.

FIRESTONE WALKER & THE HOMEBREW CHEF

After tremendous success three years ago, Firestone Walker is once again teaming up with chef and DRAFT contributor Sean Paxton for another batch of Saucerful of Secrets, a rich, fruity Belgian strong ale that will appear sometime this year.