A couple of months ago, my oldest nephew got married at a lovely old estate just outside of Austin. It was a small ceremony, just a few dozen close family and friends standing witness under stately and ancient oaks while the sky threatened to open up on us.
The chill and drizzle couldn’t stop the good cheer, and the party that followed lasted well into the night. I drank a few Dos Equis in commemorative wedding koozies, danced with my wife and daughters and, briefly, with my nephew. I watched my youngest girl learn The Cupid Shuffle. It was a good time. I don’t really like XX, but damn if it wasn’t a delicious beer that night.
The following day, after a rendezvous with the somewhat hung-over wedding party at Homeslice Pizza in Austin, I convinced my wife that we needed to head west, toward Jester King brewery.
To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even know what I was looking for, in particular. This was to be my first visit to the vaunted Hill Country brewery. Not, of course, my first taste of their beer, but hopefully my first taste of their brewery-only releases, which inspire cross-country beer trades and elaborate muling schemes complete with false-bottomed luggage and packages duct-taped to a college student’s underarms. (Maybe not those last bits.)
We bounced across the brewery’s deeply rutted driveway just in time for the baby to wake up, and I hauled the whole complaining lot of them out into the damp and chilly Hill Country air. Schlepping a baby stroller up a steep hill isn’t the easiest thing to do, made no easier when that hill is inset with uneven slabs of stone meant to serve as steps that seem particularly ill suited as a means of egress, either for the potentially intoxicated or the beer and baby laden. After a few moments of confusion (we went into the taproom first, not realizing that the to-go sales were handled out of a tent tucked discreetly to the side), we were packing up a box with “whatever I should be getting today.” A bit of cursory research had told me that both Estival Dichotomus (JK’s summer saison brewed with chamomile and spelt and refermented with strawberries, part of a seasonally rotating saison series) and a collaboration with fellow Hill Country brewers Live Oak would be available.
Most (all?) of JK’s brewery-only releases are sold with strict per-person limits (thus the muling), and I got my limit of both of the above, plus a couple bottles from 5 Stones Artisan Brewery in Cibollo, chasing a 10 bottle discount. In truth, I got two limits (why I “asked” my wife to actually get out of the car with three kids in tow).
This presented a slight problem in getting everyone back down the hill safely, coordinating three kids, one stroller, and one large and fairly heavy box of beer. Through a heavily coordinated series of instructions, a very slow pace and an improvised block-and-tackle system, we made it down without any broken bottles or bones, though you would have thought I’d popped the kids in a WABAC machine and forced them to build a pyramid for all the grousing about slave labor.
Back home, I decided to open the Jester King/Live Oak collaboration, called Kollaborationsbiermittschechischemhopfenundwilderbakterienhefekombination. That’s the last time I’m going to type that out, as its focus on hops means it likely won’t do well with age.
A quick aside, here. Given the legends regarding India Pale Ale and the preservative effects of hops ensuring fresh beer in the far-flung arms of the British colonial empire, it’s always been interesting to me that hop-heads insist that highly hopped beers must be consumed within milliseconds of bottling, lest they be rendered virtually undrinkable. I get that, even if hops provide some preservative utility, their flavors and aromas are highly volatile. We are talking about a flower, after all. Still, it seems an interesting dichotomy that on one hand, we have the legend of hoppy beers as bomb-proof juggernauts of durability, and also dainty little things that wilt at the slightest provocation from Father Time.
I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to talk about the beer? Fair enough.
Jester King/Live Oak Kollaborationsbier… pours a hazy, golden straw. Ample carbonation disrupts the fuzziness, like staring at a TV tuned between stations, back when those things had knobs and required advanced degrees to operate. A gentle pour creates a creamy, just off-white head that starts out an ample three fingers, and recedes to a generous cap.
The nose leads with some soapy overtones that blow off fairly quickly, concealing slightly musty lemons and biscuit malt. Not much hops coming through.
Toast, hay and crackly lemon with just a hint of tang lead on the palate. There is just the vaguest hint of barnyard funk, lingering in the background like when you wore your favorite sweater to the petting zoo, the one you refuse to wash because you’re terrified it’s going to shrink and you’ll have to give it to the baby. It’s blisteringly dry. I mean, it’s remarkable to think this stuff was even fermented from sugar in the first place. The hops show up at the tail end, closing things out with a cleanly bitter finish.
The prickly carbonation keeps that dryness lingering on the lips. Some mild esters hint ever so vaguely at clove/bubblegum notes, like phantasms of sound hidden in the white noise machine that have you humming their ghostly pseudo-melodies instead of going to sleep. There are plenty of bready notes, echoing the malt aromas, running through fresh baguette, toasted breadcrumbs, crackers and stale biscuits. A slight hop spiciness balances against the overall light, clean impression, with rounded bready malt and cleansing bitterness dominating the finish.
This is right in line with what I’ve had from Jester King in the past and a good showcase for the farmhouse style they’ve so fully embraced in the last few years. It’s not earth-shaking stuff, missing the gasp-inducing flavors I’ve heard described in, say, their fruited barrel-aged sours like Atrial Rubicite or Aurelian Lure. Still, it’s a very enjoyable beer on the surface, with a fair amount going on underneath.
At 4.2% ABV, this one also makes a fine table beer, a concept I’m glad Jester King continues to champion. I’d take a bottle on a picnic, to enjoy with a bit of cheese and some nice charcuterie. Maybe I’ll take the kids with me, as a gesture of thanks for the part they played in bringing this one home.