BEER COLUMN
Oregon Brewer's Festival

BY JEFF ALWORTH
243-2122, EXT. 348

"Drink beer now, you can always study in the morning" was a bit of (surprisingly successful) rhetoric we used in college. It didn't improve our grades, but we didn't seem to mind. The promotions folks at the recently concluded Oregon Brewers Festival, seemingly employing a similar form of preemptive strike, invited some of the media down for early sampling of their beers on Friday. It led, predictably, to notes like the one I wrote on Boulevard Bully! Porter: "Chalky sweet. Nutty sweet aroma. Sweet, easy drinking." That was toward the end, though; most of my notes were fairly clear. For those who didn't have a chance to sample all (or any) of the beers, here are some of my more salient observations.

Beer
As usual, the beer that turned up was an eclectic, unpredictable mix. Each year, the OBF selects 72 breweries to send one beer each to Waterfront Park; what the companies decide to send is up to them. Some use it as an opportunity to roll out new beers or seasonals, others as a way of introducing a beer to the Portland market. On the downside, it usually results in a lot of examples of some styles and few of others; this year there were 26 pale ales and only one stout.

On the other hand, since the OBF doesn't dictate what the breweries have to send, each year a few send exotic beers, and at least one of these becomes all the talk around the portable toilets. Last year it was New Glarus' Belgian Red, a widely promoted version of a kriek lambic. Its mystique only grew when, each day, the allotment of kegs was drained within a couple of hours of the opening.

This year's star was an unlikely entry from the Widmer Brothers, Bourbon Bock, a booming, high-alcohol beer. Limiting all information about the beer to the festival program did nothing to slow its popularity, and word moved quickly through the crowd. Aged in bourbon casks, it was a rich, spicy beer with a definite whisky aroma and taste. According to the rumor mill, the brothers have no intention of making any more; perhaps the beer's popularity will convince them to buy a few more bourbon casks and release it in small batches.

Other interesting beers included Free State Brewing Company's Lemongrass Rye, made with actual lemongrass. It's a fresh, grassy beer with a bit of sweet lemon overtone, quite different from the citrus of Northwest hops. The innovative Alameda Brewhouse sent a version of Kölsh called Gruitberron, made with crushed lavender and chamomile flowers in place of hops for bittering. Pike Brewing's Kilt Lifter lived up to its name with plenty of alcohol and a thick, hearty malt base. The much-celebrated Frederick Hempen Ale, with a recipe that includes hemp seeds (completely legal and absent of THC) was a curiosity, though the seeds contributed a slightly unpleasant bitter, tannic quality. Then, after my palate was dulled, Rogue Brutal Bitter came to the rescue, with a hop fiesta that could wake the dead.

Primal screams, plastic mugs and sweaty bodies
Any event involving 90,000 people is going to have some drawbacks. Most are minor and beyond the organizers' control. Two issues do bear mentioning, though: The same event that was "founded on the principle of serving examples of the best beers available" pours its beer into plastic cups. Let's forget about the visual aesthetics; I could manage not seeing my beer. The plastic of the mug, however, in its most benign state is a poor, uninspired, uninsulated vessel. At its worst, the result is that, for the first three or four cupfuls, the petrochemical smell overwhelms the taste and aroma of the beer. Perhaps there is a legal reason for using plastic mugs instead of glass (though it's not a problem for the Spring Beer Fest). If so, let's change the law.

The second problem, the crush of bodies, developed as the event gathered force both Friday and Saturday. Clearly, it is a principle of economics that more people equals more money, and it's hard to blame organizers for trying to attract yet more visitors each year. The OBF buys kegs outright from the breweries and makes its money by selling tokens. If too few people showed up, the Fest would be left holding the bag.

Still, that very drive for success could endanger the event. By mid-afternoon Saturday, many of the lines were 20 deep. Even though the festivalgoers showed restraint, the crowds underneath the beer tents started to look like a mosh pit by late afternoon. That kind of contact, mixed in with cigar smoke, dust and the occasional group howl, can make you feel claustrophobic. If the crowds are too much, though, or you prefer just sipping a beer or two, it's still possible to miss the worst by coming early, especially on Friday afternoon.

Now that the OBF has become a full-fledged Portland institution, it may be hard to change the course of big crowds or plastic mugs. Then again, if you do begin to feel crabby about crowds and plastic, have another beer. Soon you won't mind.

Another reason to dislike those plastic mugs is the moving taster fill line. Last year, one token bought six full ounces; this year it was down to a shade under five.

 

originally published July 29, 1998