Long a denizen on the more portable iPhone and iPod Touch, the Beer Judge Certification Program Style Guidelines are now available for the Apple iPad, where it’s much easier to read.

A touch here, a touch there, and you’ll find out everything you want to know about a certain style of beer.

I absolutely love it, and for those of you with an iPhone/iPod Touch, the same program works on those as well – you don’t have to buy another copy.

More info:  Beer Judge Certification Program website and BJCP Styles on Apples App Store.

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This is O’Doul’s Amber.

Oh yes, amber.  Not to be confused with O’Doul’s green.  The color distinction is more in the shade of glass than the brew – but, whatever.

This one really does smell like beer.  So much so, it’s got my pen-hand shaking.

Hmm.  Not good.  I mean, for me.  If I miss the stuff so much that a sniff of it starts me to shaking…  Well, let’s not go down that path right now.

The first sip fools my taste buds for maybe four seconds, the taste masked behind a very beer-like effervescence. That fades to a barley-water taste that’s devoid of even the hoppiness – weak as it is – of Sharps.

A surprise here:  I like Sharps better!  I don’t know why I thought I’d like O’Doul’s better, but I did expect I would, and I don’t.  Quite the contrary.

This is watery but not with a thin mouthfeel – the specific gravity seems fairly heavy.  And, well, I’m not going to pour it out.  It’s drinkable.  But compared to Sharps, I’d take the Sharps.

I’m still surprised by that.

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I’m renting this wonderful little place on a corner lot … on an island.  Think about that for a second.  A corner lot on an island.  It’s where the beach turns a corner.

On the very corner of this island is another little island, just big enough for a medium sized tree and a hammock.  I am on that hammock.

There are no big waves on this side.  If there were, it might take me out.  But it’s nice and calm, and instead of booming and hissing, the water here is calm and makes little wet lapping sounds.  In the distant there’s the occasional cry of a seagull, about once every 92 seconds, like clockwork.

Popping off the cap with the opener on my key chain, I relax here, taking in this calm Zen moment in the whirlwind of my life, and take a deep sniff of the Green Flash Barleywine.

Nothing.  I can hardly smell anything.  I don’t know if that’s because of this brew, or if it has something to do with the functioning of my nose at this moment.  (Or should I say, non-functioning?)

I take a deep breath, clear my mind, and raise the heavy bottle to my lips.  The first sip is wonderfully malty – it tastes of toasty malt, very much like a biscuit, all swallowed up in a wave of tingly bubbles.  Next is a passage of a vodka, alcohol taste, something to let me know this brew means serious business.  Then again, this is barleywine – if it didn’t have a serious alcohol punch, there’d be something wrong with it.

After that, it finishes with a nice rising tide of hoppy bitterness.  Very good.  Indeed, it’s delicious.  And it’s perfect for enjoying on a hammock on the sea shore.

I’d give this a decent 6 on the Holy Grail scale and proclaim it an official groovy brew.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.

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Get ready for a shock.

Are you ready?  I mean, are you braced for it?  Yes?  Okay, here goes…

I like this stuff.

Okay, I know my accumulating months of brewski self-depravation may be causing some sort of dementia in my brain, but Sharps is not bad at all.  I doubt I would have said this in December 2009, but here, now, I’m saying it. 

What’s doubly strange is that I like it even though I can sum it up with these three words:  Tangy Barley Water

As with other non-alcoholic reviews I’ve been posting, please bear in mind I am not comparing this to actual beer.  Sharps, such as it is, is not bad.  It’s tangy, has some good satisfying carbonation, and gives you a nice barley flavor spiked with hops.

Not a whole lot of hops, but enough to enjoy.

You could also think of it as beer flavored water.  In a pinch, or in my cause, a drought, it does the trick.

As often as not, that’s all that’s required.

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I had this a few nights ago with a really nice cut of rare steak, some potatoes, and asparagus.  During this excellent meal, Kaliber tasted almost exactly like a Guinness Stout.  I was in heaven.

Without the meal, drinking it all on its own, is another story.

When you pop the top and take that first sniff, all is well.  It has that familiar and welcoming scent of dark roasted malt and yeast.

Raising it to the lips, taking that first swig, the illusion holds for about 18 seconds.  Maybe.  I think.  Could be that I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt, because the more I think about it, the more it seems like 12 seconds.

There’s a rush of dark toasted malt with strong hints of rye bread.  That part is all good.  Then it fades to a disappointing burnt taste that reminds me of blackened bread crust.  Yeah, you know … been in the toaster too long?  The carbonation is thin and disappears almost instantly, leaving it about as flat as it can be without actually being flat.

All this sounds very negative, and that’s not really fair.  For a non-alcoholic brew, it’s not bad at all.

With a good hearty meal, it’s excellent.

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I can swear there’s a freaking werewolf howling outside. It’s a long drawn out, deep, full blown howl, like out of a monster movie. It’s so unnerving that I actually poked my head outside to see if I can tell how far away it was.

The moment I open the back door, the one that faces the woods, the howling stops. There is, of course, a full moon above. It’s bright enough to see the wooden porch and a ways into the forest, but beyond that the forest has become a tangle of dim light and a million dark shadows. Above, in the big old oak that towers over my place, an owl hoots. Not a friendly hoot, either — it sounds like it’s telling me off.

I duck back inside, shut and locked the door (like locking it makes me safer from a werewolf) and … you guessed it … the howling starts again.

Okay. Fine. Howl away, damn werewolf. I’m getting a beer.

I root around the fridge and pull out this Utenos Porter. Fitting, somehow. Sounds like the perfect name for a beer to drink while there’s a werewolf outside.

Remember, beware the moors.

I pop the top and give this bad boy a sniff. It smells strongly of sweet dark malt and molasses.

I raise the bottle to my lips, tip it back for that first sip. It’s both milder, and thinner, than I’d expected. The taste of the alcohol is strong. There’s a good balance between sweet and dark bread. And, somewhere, there seems to be some hops thrown into the mix.

Very good. Not outstanding, but good. A solid, yummy brew.

Outside the howling has stopped again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not — I’m half expecting to hear it right outside my window.

Beware the moors!

I’ll give this a 4.4 on the Holy Grail scale and proclaim it to be a groovy brew. As I sit here and finish it, I’ll be thinking about the fact that I have no gun in the house, let alone any silver bullets.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.

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My friend Brad just said to me, “Alcohol-free beer, is like orgasm-free sex.”

I have to admit he has a point there.

On a totally unrelated note, I thought I’d share this little Onion Radio News bit with you.  It’s about a new cereal for the poor, but having said that, it’s actually quite on topic for this publication.  Listen and you’ll see why…

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Not everyone can drink alcohol.

Me, personally, I’ve taken a year off.  I know, horror of horrors, no alcohol for me in 2010.  But this website must go on, and so I’ll do my best to track down and review every single non-alcoholic malt beverage I can find, plus throw in a few reviews I still have scribbled on paper, scattered around and buried in piles.

I’ll start this off with Clausthaler Premium, an import from Germany which I still think of as “beer” — but that’s not technically correct.  Still.  It’ s sold in the beer aisle at the store, and — at least here in Illinois — you still get carded for it.

It smells like beer.  In fact it smells a lot like Lowenbrau.  Just by sniffing it you can’t tell that it’s a non-alcoholic brew.

Upon first sip, which for me turned into a gulp, it tastes like the real thing.  Smooth, bitter with hops, lightly carbonated and just a bit watery, it’s not that much different than a mass-produced import.  Where the illusion fails is in the aftertaste.  Alcohol has an aftertaste that is missing here.  Then on the second swig, the illusion starts breaking down even further.  You can tell something is missing.

Let’s put all that aside, though.  It’s not fair to put this up against a real beer.  What is important is, does it satisfy?  How good is it?

Pretty darn good.  It satisfies the craving for those who are missing the real thing – and believe me, I am – and it is undoubtedly the best of the brews I’ve had so far since beginning this sobering adventure.

Obviously I can’t nominate it as a Holy Beer contender but I have no problem proclaiming it as a groovy brew.

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I ran across this great article on Discovery news, and thought I should share it with you.  In essence:

• Beer contains a nutrient that can strengthen bone.
• In moderation, beer can contribute to a healthy diet.
• Wine isn’t the only alcoholic beverage that does our bodies some good.

As always, MODERATION is the key.

UPDATE - Here’s practically the same article, word for word, on The Guardian:  Drinking beer can help prevent weak bones.  Interesting.  (Thanks, and a shout out to De McArthur)

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Let me try and set the scene…

I’m sitting in a pretty much round room, looking out a huge curved window at palm fronds swaying in the island breeze.  My attention is torn between the beer sitting here on the desk, and the beautiful water in front of me, swirling in light and dark patterns as gentle swells wash the sand of the lagoon.  Some of the palms lean far out over the water, looking like they might just drop over.  Over on the side of the building are four full-sized replicas of moai monoliths (you know, those big, creepy-cool Easter Island heads).  If I look out a side window, I see one staring back at me.

To say that the beauty here is surreal would be an understatement.

Add to that, the radio behind me is playing this really odd, yet catchy dance song, with a clearly mechanical robot voice chanting “disco dance in your sexy panties” and “wear your sexy pants just for me.”

I tear my eyes away from the view, pop open the beer, and walk out to the porch with a pad of paper and a pencil.

It smells like molasses and vodka.  Now, that may not sound like a good combination, but in this case it is.  It smells interesting, and I mean that in a positive way.

I take the first sip, tilt my head back and savor it.  The first thing that hits me is the taste of well toasted oats and barley, aerated by light but satisfying carbonation.  It finishes off with a nice bitterness that reminds me in an odd way of the charred skin on barbecued chicken. 

Later, the bottle empty, it leaves me satisfied and happy.  In all, the flavor is well balanced, and I enjoyed so much I’m awarding it the status of Holy Beer Contender and rating it 2.3 on the Holy Grail Scale.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.

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