Page 31 - The NOISE November 2015

BY GARY KURTZ
LETTER from an
Elf
phoTo by bRandon mcdonaLd
“They hang there, the stars, like notes on a page of music, free-form verse, silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz.” — Donald Miller
Dearest reader,
Everyone deserves a second chance. This is something that I firmly believe. That said, sometimes it’s tough to practice this sentiment. The first time I visited Dark Sky Brewing in Flagstaff, I honestly wasn’t a huge fan. I’m not sure what it was, but nothing really struck my fancy that day. However, thoroughly believing that everyone deserves a second chance, I decided to give them another go after spending the morning pushing myself hard at a local climbing gym. And I’m so glad that I did!
The first thing that I notice when walking into Dark Sky Brewing is how deep the space is. From the outside, one would expect it to be a small tasting room. This could not be further from the truth. The dimly lit seating area seems to stretch back forever. On the walls are metal prints of scenes from Arizona: Antelope Canyon, the San Francisco Peaks, the great Aspen groves, etc. and several involving starscapes. These are all worth the time to admire, but right now you’ve got more pressing issues. Right now, it’s time to get a beer. The long walk to the bar in the back is worth it, trust me.
Have you ever noticed that breweries tend to have a theme to their work? Wanderlust specializes in Belgian styles, THAT does American styles, Verde Brewing uses a plethora of local ingredients ... Dark Sky’s theme seems to be beer brewed with stuff. Prickly pears, peaches, chocolate, mint, Hatch chilies, and ginger are just some of the adjuncts used in their beers, each to different effect. During my most recent visit, only one beer was made without an additional flavorant. To understand why this matters, let’s take a look back in history to one of the very first food laws in the world, the Reinheitsgebot of 1516. Also known as the “German Beer Purity Law,”theReinheitsgebotrestrictstheproductionofbeertothreeingredients:barley,hops,and water. This had the effect of protecting the Bavarian public from impure beer, but at the same time it stifled innovation. Thankfully, American brewers are not held to this standard and are free to experiment with all kinds of ingredients. Breweries like Dark Sky are able to flourish making beers with names like RYEdonkulous that thoroughly violate the aforementioned law.
RYEdonkulous is a lovely, refreshing beer brewed with dark chocolate and, you guessed it, rye. I’m an unrepentant fan of rye beers. The grain tends to impart a rich spiciness that can’t be replicated. This beer is no different. Clocking in at 4.8% and 66 IBU’s, the spiciness of the rye plays beautifully on the tongue with the bitterness of the added dark chocolate creating subtle red fruit characteristics. A thick, loose head captures the tricky aroma of this rule breaker. Every time I smelled it, I could swear it was a pumpkin spice beer. The spiciness of the rye and the Jarrylo hops meld to create this lovely, albeit deceptive effect. Below that, the green, herbal characters of the hops and the richness of the chocolate are waiting to be found. The deception continues on the palate. In the glass this beer is dark. Not “dark as the hearts of men” dark, but close. However, on the palate, it feels deceptively light, reminiscent of a New Belgium 1554. Seeing as how my favorite beer from New Belgium is the 1554, it should come as no surprise that I think the RYEdonkulous is a splendid beer. While it stands on it’s own perfectly well, I can’t help but feel that the RYEdonkulous should be drunk beside a campfire, straight out of the crowler (more on that in a minute), with chocolate chip cookies. Bliss.
I know what you’re thinking now. You’re wondering, “O’ Captain, My Captain, what is this crowler of which you speak?” I’m so glad you asked. Beer to go is always tricky. A brewery can choose to put their product in cans or bottles, but these require large and expensive machines. Kegs are ubiquitous in breweries, but a bit large for the average consumer. Growlers are lovely. They’re reusable, solid, glass jugs that hold around a 6 pack worth of beer in a single vessel. They’re affordable to purchase and refill, and because they are refillable, they are great for the environment. That said, they are also bulky, heavy, and need to be emptied within 24 hours of breaking the seal on the cap. Not so great for outdoor adventures where weight is an issue. Enter the crowler, a single use, 32 ounce beer can that is filled straight from the tap like a growler and only requires one small piece of manual machinery to seal. It is substantially lighter than a glass growler, light proof, and crushable when empty. Music to the ears of beer drinking outdoor enthusiasts, like me. So head on in and fill up a couple. Then get yourself outside and enjoy them!
| Gary Kurtz has his crowler and is ready for his next adventure. gtkurtz@gmail.com
Time does not increase in its rate of passing with the succession of each year we live; there is an ebb and flow. I’ve lived long enough to be able to allow myself the liberty of encouraging those who are younger to not be dejected when the cool, dry air of autumn sets in and the harvest moon rises in the east as a harbinger of another dying summer. Some seasons, we find, move slower, giving us time to caress our happiness and our sadness, our courage and our lust, while others carry us, either forward or back, as if we each are a lone kite caught in a gale. Through all of this it is important to take what we can get, and forgive for that which we cannot. We should enjoy, as always, every moment we have to appreciate the cycle of the seasons.
Recently, during an impeccably bright and illuminated full moon, I was given the opportunity to finally, after so much time in the city, spend a couple of nights deep in the forest with a friend of mine and his son. That his son was present was an interesting experience for me, myself being more naturally nocturnal and comfortable at night. He is currently at that age where he is still young enough to be uncertain but wanting to explore — that dangling worm of adventure on the hook ready to be sunk — and learn. I was reminded how far from that age I’ve come and how much of a person I’ve grown. I remembered a time when I relied on others for protection and security when now I can walk tall and confident in the night. The sounds of large cats on the hunt, the insects of prey, and the roaming packs of wild dogs searching for the leftovers of the aforementioned-cats’ meals. Grasping my bow in the darkness, waiting, listening for the faintest rustle of grass, or the slightest trickle of a rolling pinecone in the shadows, I finally understood that while the summer had come and gone far too fast for my liking, I had grown as a person during that time; I had grown significantly. We live, events occur, we experience, we struggle, and we survive.
In the wake of the fleeting memories of summer we now are finding ourselves basking in the warm glow of fading aspen groves and early sunsets. The comfort the summer air brings us on our skin and face is replaced by a visual stimuli which, in as short a manner as it came, will pass.
I, having just returned from a fantastic voyage to the empty mountains far, far beyond the northern horizon, find it difficult to maintain peace and clarity in these changes when surrounded by a nearly innumerable amount of people who do not embrace the season, and do not give time for the moment. (It is not healthy for a long life to live in the past in hopes of bettering the future; this is a futile entrapment.) This place that I journeyed to was quiet, and a small village of rather friendly people welcomed me warmly and aided my exploration of the area. I was comforted in that I did not run into any trouble up there as, upon my departure from here, I had very little knowledge of where I was going. It was a place of paradise outside of this city and my heart longs to return. It was a place where wild things roamed freely, without interference, a place where faeries danced in clearings along creeks, a place where fauns skip between the copses of trees, and a place where even a dragon could soar through the sky and never be seen by a soul who would rather disprove its existence. Regardless of my reminiscing it is not a place I would share with many for that is how a great thing is so often ruined and destroyed.
We are in a time of change and that is the one thing that is most certain, always. Accept the past, thrive in the present, and fear not the future, and you just might find a sliver of true happiness hiding in all the noise we find ourselves making in such a bustling city.
Ande’thoras-ethil, Elf
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