"Excelsior!" Part 1

by Matt Dunn

December 5, 2006

I was goosed awake by a gander of geese and their raucous HONK! HONKING! at sunrise. Ostego Lake unfurls itself north from Cooperstown like a runway for the migrating birds. Five hours of sleep on a belly full of Ommegang was not particularly restful. I shower, dress, and stand by the long, calm body of water as the last vestiges of morning fog retreat into the atmosphere. The long drive back to New York City stretches out in front of me like the lake, but in a far more tedious way.

I was traveling the lower reaches of the Empire State with a mastermind of the beer distribution business, Dr. Jim Schembre. He's not actually a doctor, but this doesn't really matter. He and his right hand man Bob Mack were out making house calls and they took me along for the ride. I told everybody I was Dr. Schembre's biographer, W.W. Beauchamp to his English Bob, or Little Bill Daggett, or William Munny, I suppose, depending on how the story ends. We were in Brooklyn, Albany, Cooperstown, and finally Manhattan for top secret negotiations about the craft beer industry. I'll start in the middle because that's how W.W. Beauchamp rolls.

We're smack dab in the center of New York State, 70 miles southeast of Syracuse, 70 miles southwest of Albany. This is the land of long, sweeping river valleys and Mohawk heritage. Cooperstown is tucked up one of the smaller valleys at the base of a baby finger lake. The baseball hall of fame is here. The streets are clean, the shops and restaurants and bars are open. The sidewalks are in good repair and the two thousand residents of this small town bustle about early on a Saturday morning. Cooperstown: where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average. There are no chain restaurants allowed downtown. It's very pleasant. If you ever have the chance to visit Cooperstown, I strongly suggest you do so.

The headwaters of the Susquehanna river cut a small valley southward. The river passes below and just out of sight of Ommegang's distinctive, long, white brewhouse. The brewery was founded in 1997 by Don Feinberg and Wendy Littlefield, owners of the Vanberg and DeWulf importing company, with help from the 5th largest Belgian brewer, Duvel Moortgat. In 2003, Duvel took ownership of the brewery and now runs some of their North American operations from Cooperstown.

These operations are captained by the rather witty Laurent Demuynck, a real live Belgian with a passion for low emission vehicles and good beer. He's currently planning an expansion of Ommegang's facilities so things are a bit hectic. Ommegang will brew about 7000 barrels of beer in Cooperstown this year. After the expansion they hope to brew over 50,000 a year. We stand around a scale model of the proposed expansion, he looks tired but inspired: "Having Duvel Moortgat as your sugar daddy is pretty sweet."

Randy Thiel is Ommegang's brewmaster. He attended both the Siebel Brewing Institute in Chicago and the brewing school at UC Davis, so he's well trained. And it shows. He's the creative mind behind Rare Vos, a deliciously drinkable amber brew with a pleasing bready character and a clean, dry finish. It's his favorite Ommegang beer.

It's hard to say which is my favorite. The Hennepin is a golden colored Saison style brew which at 7.7% abv is a good bit stronger than the Rare Vos. Hennepin shows a big fruity nose and a complex palate that has a lot to do with the yeast that was hand picked from the stocks at the Catholic University in Leuven Belgium. But it also has a lot to do with the spicing. I wouldn't have guessed it, but Hennepin is spiced with grains of paradise and ginger. Thiel says that this adds to the beer's perceived dryness and complexity without being particularly "spicy".

Their Witte, on the other hand, is very dry and very spicy. The hefty spicing includes juniper and definitely comes across as "spicy". The Ommegang abbey style is a decadent dark brown seducer of a beer that shows a rich, raisin goodness, sweetish caramel notes, and a warming alcohol blanket. But the most beautiful thing about the Ommegang abbey is how clean it finishes. Just a hint of lingering sweetness and no rough edges. While this beer would be considered "big" by almost any standards, Ommegang's Three Philosophers does it one better.

Three Philosophers is similar to the abbey style but ratcheted up a shade or two, its 9.8% abv whereas the abbey is 8.5% abv. It's also blended with a touch of Lindeman's Kriek, a cherry lambic. This contributes a hint of sour tang and a bonus fruity layer to an already big and busy brew. It's definitely a sipping beer, but it's not too busy and it's not too big to sip for several hours at a clip. It strikes a very good balance between lavish lusciousness and drinkability.

So who are the Three Philosophers? Famous Belgian polymaths from the scientific revolution? Collaborators with Galileo? Copernicus? Leibniz? No, no, and no. The silhouettes on the label are actually of brewmaster Randy Thiel, brew manager Kevin Davis, and Duvel Moortgat director Michel Moortgat. The latter was put on the label without his knowledge, a risky move if you ask me, messing with your boss like that.

Ommegang gets all of it's brewing liquor (aka water) from two wells located on the brewery's property. The water is very soft and contributes to the distinctive character of Ommegang's brews. All the beers are made with the same strain of yeast and follow more or less the same production schedule. About 15% of the beer is fermented in an open fermenter where yeast is harvested from the actively fermenting beer for future batches, a practice known as top cropping. Each beer is fermented warm, at 77 degrees Fahrenheit, for five days. It's then aged for two weeks at 28 degrees Fahrenheit in large conical fermenters. From there it's bottled and fresh yeast and wort are added so that carbonation can develop naturally in the bottle over the next nine days in the warm room which is also kept at 77.

We were the only ones actively listening to the jazz at Hoffman Lane Bistro just off the lake in Cooperstown. They claimed they didn't know any Indiana songs, but I requested some Hoagy Carmichael and they obliged with a ten minute version of Georgia on my Mind. This was nice. I don't think many people know Hoagy Carmichael wrote that song, for his sister, named Georgia, not the state.

On the road again. Back to New York City. Cruising the Palisades Parkway in northern New Jersey put us in a complacent mood. This sinuous and languorous highway ebbs and flows on the rolling hills along the Hudson river. Four hours into our trip and all was well. Until we started catching glimpses of the beast through the trees to the east. The haze and smog and locusts made it hard to see the wasteland distinctly, but there was no doubt that the Bronx loomed, imposing and smoky. You feel it more than you see it. Before us now the George Washington Bridge spans the Hudson like a long metallic insect. We are crushed by its mandibles and processed. Through New York City's innards we spin, to be shat upon the streets of Williamsburg Brooklyn like so many other wayward hipsters from the Midwest. Stay tuned.