Beer In Bozeman.
A year ago I had the distinct pleasure to travel to Bozeman, Montana for a business trip. I stayed in the home of Greg Gianforte, the personable and gracious CEO of RightNow, one of the best Web self-service companies alive today.
One of the many highlights was spending an afternoon sampling the local beer available in Bozeman. I sat in a pub and had sampler tray after sampler tray brought to me – much as I’d like to be welcomed into Heaven. These notes surfaced recently, and after fishing around in them I think they’re coherent enough to post:
MacKenzie River Driftboat Amber, brewed by the Blackfoot River Brewing Co., Helena – Light, too light for my taste but my wife would love it, I found it a bit limp and without a real finish. It’s billed as “An English-style amber ale brewed exclusively for MacKenzie River Pizza Co. from Northwest & British pale malts,” so they must know their local clientele certainly better than I do. It’s best described as a local substitute for Budweiser, but better than Bud. Doesn’t linger, and really not much body going down.
Black Star Golden Lager, brewed by the Great Northern Brewing Co., Whitefish – Billed as a “crisp, refreshing double-hopped lager,” it continued the trend of overly light brews – granted I did start from the light end of the beer menu and work up. If anything it melted away even faster than the Driftboat Amber did. This beer would be for people who think Miller has a little too much forceful individuality, and who cherish the memory of their first Pabst.
Sidewinder Pilsner, Lighting [sic] Boy Brewing Co., Belgrade. Billed as “A Bohemian Pilsner light in color but big in flavor,” with hops from Germany and the Czech Republic for a “classic style aroma and crisp, dry finish.” There you go, a beer with some personality, a nice tart zing to it. Not sweet, more fruity and bitter, really, with that wild hair streak of bitter zap that outlaws it from mainstream breweries. The first beer so far that you would know to be a micro from the taste and feel alone. Melts away a bit too fast, but don’t most all good things in life? I mean, really? Nice finish.
Missouri River Steamboat Lager, Blackfoot River Brewing Company. This brewery’s second chance to win my affection. It’s not like, you know, mutual funds, which only get one chance as far as I’m concerned, I’ll give a brewery any number of chances to prove they can do something to win my money. This is the first beer I’ve thought worthy of writing about the color. That’s one of those silly affectations of beer critics, who the hell cares what color a beer is, except as a guide to drinkability for a particular taste along the lines of “Interchangeable With Water, God What A Beautiful Color, Break Out the Fork.” The Missouri River looked like a Sam Adams – ah, now that’s a beer that you know is in your mouth. Tart without overdoing it, bitter but pleasant like an Ambrose Bierce short story. It’s billed as “A crisp, complex common lager” with “an assertive hop character.” It’s a beer that picks a fight with your taste buds and well, it’s up to you to determine if your taste buds are up to it. For my money – correction, for my expense account’s money – it’s a fight like a fourth-grade playground dustup – not much real hitting takes place, and you end up being pretty good friends after it’s all over. I’d actually pony up to buy a pint of this beer.
Ah, now for the one I’ve wanted to try ever since I saw its name on the menu – Moose Drool Brown Ale, from your good friends at the Big Sky Brewing Co. of Missoula. If I found a Moose Drool t-shirt I’d buy it. By the way, should you venture up to these parts, watch out for moose. According to my business contact up here, who escaped from Hoboken – seriously – six years ago to Bozeman, moose are mean suckers who’d rip Bullwinkle a new butthole if they had half a mind to. Evidently half a mind is all the mind a moose possesses. Again, the color is of a finely-aged motor oil, and billed as an “honest brown ale,” as opposed to those brown ales who’ll tell you the place has been under termite service contract for three years, the Moose Drool is, as the menu states, “sweet from malted barley, with a hint of hops presence, creamy and light-bodied for its color.” In other words, it looks like Guinness, but doesn’t taste like liquid Vegemite. I like this beer. If you like Guinness but find that you can’t drink too many of them, then this might be the beer for you. If you happen to live in the northern Rocky Mountains, that is. If not, well, tough luck, I’m sure your pitiful little bar has Coors Light.
Got one more swallow of the Moose Drool here to go before going on to #6 of the tray – the last time I did a sampler tray like this was in New Zealand, a couple days before my wedding to a lovely Kiwi lass. Jim and Paul had come down from the States to attend my wedding – sure, more like they jumped at a good excuse to visit New Zealand – we went to Shakespeare & Co., a great brewpub in Auckland which sold sampler trays. But they didn’t have Jackie the waitress, who helpfully wrote out all the beers for me here in order on the clever Lazy Susan-type wooden sampler tray. God bless Jackie.
Now for the last of the six – Red Lodge Wheat, from the Red Lodge Ales brewery in Red Lodge. The owner, Harvey “Red” Lodge… nah, just kidding but I wouldn’t be surprised.
The Red Lodge came with a lemon, and honestly I don’t know what to do with a lemon in a beer other than a Corona. I mean, do you squeeze it over the beer like an order of shrimp, do you drop it in like an iced tea, or do you just politely ignore it, a la parsely garnish? Hell with Corona it doesn’t matter what you do to that, there’s really no way you can either improve or wreck a Corona, but I needed to be somewhat professional about all this, so my solution was to dip the lemon in the beer once and put it aside. After sucking the lemon, of course. I mean, there’s beer on that thar lemon.
I’ve had wheat beer before, and I’m sorry to say the Red Lodge was a disappointment. It didn’t have the confidence other wheat beers I’ve had did. And I wanted to like the Red Lodge, I really did. I love this town – guy beside me just ordered two Guinnesses and they brought it to him without demur, someone across the street just parked in front of a fire hydrant but moved out of courtesy, and nobody wears seat belts. This Red Lodge is billed as a Red Lodge Hefeweizen, a “golden, unfiltered wheat beer” with “citrus and clove flavors” – maybe that’s what did the poor beer in, it’s like putting a good-looking girl in a potato sack dress, she doesn’t really have a fighting chance – “combined with low hop bitterness” – bitterness? I didn’t notice any bitterness, heck I would’ve welcomed some bitterness, something to give some texture to the beer – “make this German-style ale a refreshing thirst quencher.”
And I’m afraid that last part of that sentence is all too true, it’s the kind of beer you’d use as an expedience, a beer you’d use to fill the function of plough juice, not a beer you’d savor and get to know on its own.
So there you go, that was my sampler tray of six of the nine micros MacKenzie River Pizza Co. of Bozeman, Montana offers – what’s that? I’m not fulfilling my journalistic duty by finding out about the other three? Oh all right, if you insist…
… and let me tell you, campers, this does come as a genuine search for TRVTH, since I’m not a fan of pale ales and I can take or leave Guinness, quite honestly. The first beer of the second round I had was Headstrong Pale Ale, from Big Hold Brewing Co. of Belgrade. It had that smirking “bitterness,” that not real bitterness but pretends to be of all pale ales, the kind that stays in your mouth just until you start to get into it then runs away. Billed as “A rich textured, British-style pale ale with” – here comes one of the most meaningless monikers you’ll ever run into in beer criticism – “a floral hop aroma and a well-balanced malt finish.” Come on, guys, this isn’t the Bordeaux Ladies’ Society Annual Wine-Tasting here, it’s beer, for crying out loud. Say “When you drink this you’ll get a quick mental image of Grandmother Vaughn’s sittin’ room” and let it go at that.
Okay, next up: Tri-Motor Amber, from the intrepid Lang Creek Brewery of Marion. This is, according to the menu, “A British-style” – what is it with this Anglophilia here? Not that I’m looking or anything, but the teenage lovelies around here, all of whom look like they’ve spent their lives on ski slopes and in triathlons, are more often than not sporting a Union Jack somewhere, usually somewhere on their body I’m not looking at – “A British-style, full-bodied amber ale, rich in flavor and a crisp, distinctive aroma.” I gues the only time I missed this first time around was because I was committed to trying a little bit of everything out of journalistic integrity, but this is a damn fine beer. It delivers everything an amber promises, but doesn’t give you everything on the first date, you end up wanting another pint for some further conversation.
There’s a guy over there at the next table pounding a Bud Light. What the hell… boy, just outside the window right now a guy tossed a candy wrapper at a garbage can, missed, so he took a few steps to bend over and pick it up, and while he was down there he picked up another small bit of paper somebody – no doubt a tourist from back east – had left. What a great place. East Coasters sniff that places like Bozeman lack kultcher – oh, what’s this beer I’m on now? Snake River Pale Ale, from Wyoming’s Snake River Brewing Co.? Sorry, didn’t notice. All it reminds me of is Evel Knievel. Hell of an artist, Evel, not many people know that. Aw, this is an okay beer, but nothing to order when there are options on the menu. I mean, it’s not aggressively bad, but it’s probably the same as somebody who knows nothing about literature who reads anything Bret Easton Ellis or Jay McInerney writes and says “Um, it’s not… very, uh, good, is it?”
Next up is a Guinness. That’s right, nine microbrews on this menu and Guinness. Who can blame ‘em? Me, I’d put nine micros and a Bass Ale, but everybody’s entitled to their own opinion.
What great music here. There are differences to an overwhelmingly white community, I guess one of them is great music. I’ve heard bluegrass and thinly-veiled Irish tunes ever since I sat down in this place, and if I could figure out a way to get my mail forwarded here I probably wouldn’t move from this booth. I mean, what sweeter sound is there than a song starting with a slamming banjo riff, joined by an Appalachian fiddle? Hey, all you multicultural types, this is my culture, and if you can’t respect it maybe you need some more diversity training.
Now that’s the novel to write – a guy who honestly doesn’t have a problem with other cultures, just doesn’t like having his nose rubbed in them, moves to Montana as a way to live in his own culture – these multicultural asswipes thought they were doing themselves a favor by forcing black, Hispanic, Caribbean, Indian, Native American and whatever the hell cultures down the throat of the 87% of Americans who are of British ancestry, what they really did was reduce America to a series of ghettoes. White Americans have proven, over time, to be the most fair-minded, open-minded, culturally sensitive people on the face of the earth in world history, but never has any identifiable cultural demographic been more vilified for being culturally insensitive. Nobody ever – ever – criticizes blacks for not listening to bluegrass, but whites are routinely criticized for not listening to the rap stool pounding out at offensive volume from the car next to you at the stoplight, where your three-year old has to listen to “F-word my ho’” this and “F-word” that. That’s the end result of “multiculturalism,” being forced to endure absolute garbage just because a non-WASP is perpetrating it.
It’s not that I like Bozeman because it’s 95% white, it’s that white culture is the most racially and ethnically tolerant culture in the world and I’m damn proud of that. So there.
Oh yeah, and we do good beer too.