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The End

Hello all,

I’m abandoning the Thirsty Austin project for now. Thank you for the steady stream of new followers, but I’m sorry to say that I want to focus on learning more before I publish anything close to what I’ve hinted at here. That being said, I’d like to tell you about my ideal Thirsty.

Within the next ten to fifteen years, I plan on working in online media, but I won’t forget is my passion for the history of alcohol.

My hope is to return to the project with a greater perspective on economics and culture — a way of seeing the history of regions over a couple drinks. Gin & tonics and the effects of imperialism on India, Irish whisky and the tension between the Irish Protestants and Catholics or a day drinking Tequila with jimadors. Of course this is requires more time, effort and resources than I currently have, but it doesn’t make it impossible.

Stay thirsty and don’t be afraid to order a new drink. You might learn a thing or two if you open up and ask your bartender a few questions.

For now, you can follow me on my regular blog, geraldrich.tumblr.com. At the moment it’s predominantly a blog filled with bits of inspiration I’ve had, but I’ll be posting more projects I’ve worked on as well as applications within the coming months.

Cheers,
Gerald Rich

Originally published in the Daily Texan on 06/09/2011

Summertime means “beer-time” in Texas. Anytime is “beer:30” when it’s this hot outside.

Aside from your usual cold Miller High Life or a Lonestar, a hefeweizen is also a traditional, iconic Texas summer beer with hints of banana and clove. You can probably even find me on a thirsty Thursday sipping a hefe with a lemon slice at Hole in the Wall.

Hefeweizen means “yeast wheat”: It’s a wheat beer and brewers keep the yeast used to ferment the drink floating around. Some people don’t prefer it so cloudy, though, so another popular cousin would be kristallweizen, meaning the brewery has filtered all that out to leave it as clear as a crystal.

Regardless of all the German, both are wheat ales from Bavaria that get their flavor from the regional strain of yeast. As many brewers say, yeast is an organism that eats the sugary starches, burps up carbon dioxide and farts alcohol. If that’s got you concerned, keep in mind it’s the same process for wine, as well as sodas such as root beer or kombucha.

“Yeast was only discovered when they invented the microscope,” explained Yan Matysiak, a quality control technologist who studies yeast for Live Oak Brewery. “They just called it ‘stuff’ before then. Of course they knew that when they added it, they had a pretty tasty drink. But when they isolated the yeast, they got certain flavors and over time it developed sub-flavors as they made purer strains.”

Specifically, we’re talking about a top-fermenting yeast usually associated with ales.

According to the beer enthusiast publication BeerAdvocate, ales ferment within a week and thrive in Bavarian summers. Lagers, the other major category for beers, are usually stored after fermentation and use yeast that lives in colder weather.

German monks who were brewing in the Middle Ages developed a rhythm to match the seasons, which carried over to German immigrants. As they moved into Texas in the 19th century, before the glorious days of air conditioning, they brought these seasonal styles and continued to brew hefeweizens in the summer.

Nowadays, it’s not necessary to have this Bavarian yeast to make a hefe, but it’s more traditional to do so. The bottom line is that yeast produces a mild alcohol content, around five percent by volume.

“[High alcohol drinks] just weigh me down,” said Teresa Uelschey, office manager over at Live Oak Brewery in Austin. “Our bodies are having to do a whole lot more processing when it’s super hot and humid, like right now.”

However, with all this German history, where do the lemon or orange slices come from?

Even though it’s not a hefeweizen or kristallweizen, Blue Moon is still an American wheat beer that clearly plays on this citrus note. Nevertheless, it’s a Belgian witbier that’s already spiced with oranges and the addition of a bright orange slice was just a marketing scheme.

“When people saw a beer with an orange slice in it, it piqued their interest,” said Jim Doney, president of Chicago Beverage Systems LLC, in a 2006 Wall Street Journal article. “They said, ‘Hey, let me try one of those.’”

The orange and beer mix doesn’t taste half-bad, either. Citrus fruits, such as lemons and oranges, add sweetness to balance out some of the yeast and grain flavors of any wheat beer — something maybe a bit too weird if you’re used to a six-pack of Buds.

Keep in mind that Live Oak and BeerAdvocate both say that citrus slices in your beer are uniquely American. Meaning you might get a couple of weird glances and hear some guttural phrases muttered if you try to pull that stunt at a traditional German draught house.

Originally published in the Daily Texan on 06/09/2011

Summertime means “beer-time” in Texas. Anytime is “beer:30” when it’s this hot outside.

Aside from your usual cold Miller High Life or a Lonestar, a hefeweizen is also a traditional, iconic Texas summer beer with hints of banana and clove. You can probably even find me on a thirsty Thursday sipping a hefe with a lemon slice at Hole in the Wall.

Hefeweizen means “yeast wheat”: It’s a wheat beer and brewers keep the yeast used to ferment the drink floating around. Some people don’t prefer it so cloudy, though, so another popular cousin would be kristallweizen, meaning the brewery has filtered all that out to leave it as clear as a crystal.

Regardless of all the German, both are wheat ales from Bavaria that get their flavor from the regional strain of yeast. As many brewers say, yeast is an organism that eats the sugary starches, burps up carbon dioxide and farts alcohol. If that’s got you concerned, keep in mind it’s the same process for wine, as well as sodas such as root beer or kombucha.

“Yeast was only discovered when they invented the microscope,” explained Yan Matysiak, a quality control technologist who studies yeast for Live Oak Brewery. “They just called it ‘stuff’ before then. Of course they knew that when they added it, they had a pretty tasty drink. But when they isolated the yeast, they got certain flavors and over time it developed sub-flavors as they made purer strains.”

Specifically, we’re talking about a top-fermenting yeast usually associated with ales.

According to the beer enthusiast publication BeerAdvocate, ales ferment within a week and thrive in Bavarian summers. Lagers, the other major category for beers, are usually stored after fermentation and use yeast that lives in colder weather.

German monks who were brewing in the Middle Ages developed a rhythm to match the seasons, which carried over to German immigrants. As they moved into Texas in the 19th century, before the glorious days of air conditioning, they brought these seasonal styles and continued to brew hefeweizens in the summer.

Nowadays, it’s not necessary to have this Bavarian yeast to make a hefe, but it’s more traditional to do so. The bottom line is that yeast produces a mild alcohol content, around five percent by volume.

“[High alcohol drinks] just weigh me down,” said Teresa Uelschey, office manager over at Live Oak Brewery in Austin. “Our bodies are having to do a whole lot more processing when it’s super hot and humid, like right now.”

However, with all this German history, where do the lemon or orange slices come from?

Even though it’s not a hefeweizen or kristallweizen, Blue Moon is still an American wheat beer that clearly plays on this citrus note. Nevertheless, it’s a Belgian witbier that’s already spiced with oranges and the addition of a bright orange slice was just a marketing scheme.

“When people saw a beer with an orange slice in it, it piqued their interest,” said Jim Doney, president of Chicago Beverage Systems LLC, in a 2006 Wall Street Journal article. “They said, ‘Hey, let me try one of those.’”

The orange and beer mix doesn’t taste half-bad, either. Citrus fruits, such as lemons and oranges, add sweetness to balance out some of the yeast and grain flavors of any wheat beer — something maybe a bit too weird if you’re used to a six-pack of Buds.

Keep in mind that Live Oak and BeerAdvocate both say that citrus slices in your beer are uniquely American. Meaning you might get a couple of weird glances and hear some guttural phrases muttered if you try to pull that stunt at a traditional German draught house.

Shaker Face Competition

Shaker Face asks how do your local bartenders’ shake? Go vote for your favorites and help put Austin on the map.

Last video with The Daily Texan before launching an independent drink publication in early July. Feel the joy in your liver or I’ll put it there.

dimeforyourthoughts:

Math 150…you are easy.  It just takes a while to you understand sometimes.

dimeforyourthoughts:

Math 150…you are easy.  It just takes a while to you understand sometimes.

Indie Music Mix Tapes via 8 Tracks

Listening to 8 Tracks and drinking Angostura bitters neat. However I found this recipe which sounds like a riff on Hemingway’s forgotten Death in the Gulf Stream cocktail. For Hemingways, replace with gin with genever and add lime.


Pink Gin

Pink Gin

3 shots of good quality gin
3 dashes of Angostura bitters

Add the gin to a rocks glass filled with ice, drip in the bitters and swirl the glass.

garnish with lemon peel.

Enjoy

via StuartWebster

3rd Annual American Whiskey Festival @ Opal Divine's

Tickets are $30 and the proceeds will go to helping support Meals on Wheels.

The Passover Seder plate…in cocktail form. YES!

The Passover Seder plate…in cocktail form. YES!