The Widmer Gasthaus

We have an embarrassment of riches in Portland. There's so much excellent beer here, that we get to look down our nose a little bit at any brewery that gets too big, like Widmer, the 11th largest brewery in the U.S. by sales last year. Widmer Hefeweizen is ubiquitous, available in every convenience store, pizza joint and tavern in town. Well, not the Green Dragon -- case in point! -- though Widmer will be featured at this Tuesday's Meet the Brewer.

There are many reasons to rise above our beer snobbishness and open our hearts to Widmer -- not least of which is the fact that the beer they sell in such vast quantities is actually good beer. Furthermore, the Widmer brothers were there at the beginning of the craft brew revolution in Oregon, long before hangers-on such as myself, and they still support the grassroots by offering homebrewers access to their brewing facility through the Collaborator project. Finally, there's the Gasthaus: the restaurant attached to the brewery, where Widmer serves a number of interesting beers that are unavailable anywhere else. Good food, too.

I dropped into the Gasthaus a couple days ago as part of my Alt quest. Turns out that a Dusseldorf Alt was one of the first beers the Widmers brewed, and it is apparently always on tap at the Gasthaus, but nowhere else. The Widmer Alt is a well-done beer, and matches the style guidelines very well: a dark, dry beer, with a bitter edge but almost a nutty flavor to the malt underneath. Compared to other local Alts I've had recently, it's more polished and flavorful than the Collaborator Alt I had at Belmont Station; it's less fruity and more bitter than Corey's Evolution Amber; and it's not a wacky hop-bomb like the Lucky Lab's Crazy Ludwig's Alt. It's not a style I love enough to have every day, but I'll certainly revisit it on future trips to the Gasthaus. I still need to track down a real Dusseldorf Alt to compare these all to.

Of course the restaurant has taps that represent Widmer's bottled-beer lines, but in addition to the Alt they had eight more taps that you can only get there. The Belgian Golden didn't impress me much at the Cheers to Belgian Beers festival, and I wasn't in the mood for a lager or barleywine, but I was happy to see that they had the NW Red on tap. This was the "W '06" special yearly bottling from a couple years ago, a tasty brew indeed. The W '08 Crimson Wheat, while drinkable, is nowhere near as interesting as the previous W's.

Speaking of W's, the first one -- the W '05 IPA -- was so good, that it became a regular offering: Broken Halo. This is what I'm talking about when I say that Widmer's mass quantities of consumables are still really good. Broken Halo's renown has spread across the country, to the point where it was a favorite of my buddy Lee before he even visited Portland. Just last month, another less-beer-obsessed friend in Austin told me -- without being able to remember the brewery name -- that it's the only beer he buys these days. And here's an excellent stunt from the blogosphere: a blind-tasting "tournament" of 32 IPAs, seeded by their ratebeer ranking. Broken Halo won, even though it was ranked 24th by the master beer-raters.

Other delights that the Gasthaus has offered in the past are the KGB Imperial Stout, aged in bourbon barrels; and Noggin Grog, Widmer's entry in last year's Oregon Brewer's Festival. A lot of beer snobs dissed Noggin Grog -- a so-called Imperial Wit -- but I loved it. Sure there's no such thing as an Imperial Wit, but it was a big, tasty beer.

The Gasthaus location, with a nice view of the Fremont Bridge, is right on the edge of a gritty industrial area, though its near neighbors are the trendy 820/Mint and the retro-chic McMenamins' White Eagle. Despite the fact that it's walled in by massive freeway overpasses, a trip to the Gasthaus makes a nice little bike excursion -- the Interstate bike lane connects with the Eastbank Esplanade right by the Steel bridge. You probably wouldn't bicycle the kids there, though -- the car traffic moves fast on Interstate, and the other route along Russell Street is kid-friendly enough on the way down, but will have them cursing you on the way back up the hill, if you're not already cursing yourself.

Help Me Figure Out Alts

My first exposure to Alt beers occurred in 1995 during a dash through Germany. I don't recall the brand or brands we had, but I do remember thinking, "This isn't so great". The dark color belied the bland taste. There are plenty of German beers that I love, like a good Hefeweizen, or that pinnacle of sweet beers, Paulaner Salvator, but the couple of Alts I tried didn't impress me.

I didn't give it much thought until ten years later when I was living in SE Portland, and discovered that one of my favorite beers at my local, the Lucky Labrador, was Crazy Ludwig's Alt. It was rich and very hoppy, much more flavorful than my recollection of German Alts, but with a lighter color, as seen in the picture here. I was able to reconcile these conflicting pieces of information, thinking that the Oregon Alt was an inauthentic version -- and better for it.

Then Corey brought his Evolution Amber to the Green Dragon for Meet-the-Brewer night. He said it was really an Alt, but that -- who knows why -- calling it Amber sells more beer. He pointed to Alaskan Amber, saying it's really an Alt. Sure enough, take a look at the Alaskan Amber label, it says "Alt Style Beer". All of this contradicted my earlier impressions. Evolution was flavorful, in contrast to my German Alt experience, but not as hoppy as Crazy Ludwig's. None of them seemed to have much in common with Alaskan Amber, which is clear and pleasant -- it got me from Juneau to Bellingham on the ferry last year -- but not as interesting as Ludwig's or Evolution.

Clearly this style is not as easy to pin down as, say, an IPA or Barleywine. So what is an Alt? Michael Jackson described it as "brewed with dark malts, and very well hopped... an aromatic, slightly fruity, bitter-sweet taste". So far, my experience tells me that only Ludwig's is very well hopped; only Evolution is remotely fruity; and the German Alts of my recollection only had the dark malt going for them. Technically, an Alt is a top-fermented beer -- like ales -- but aged for a while at cool temperatures, like a lager. Corey has more technical details in his article about the Alt style.

Authenticity is not a big deal for me; it's fun to talk about how close something adheres to a certain style, but at the end of the day it's the taste that matters. On the other hand, I don't want to write off a whole style of beer based on a mistaken impression.

My curiosity led me over to Belmont Station to try and recalibrate with some German Alts. Unfortunately, the only one Belmont had in stock was a Pinkus Alt, from Munster instead of Dusseldorf, the traditional Alt capital. As if I needed more confusion, Pinkus Alt was another curve ball: light in color (see the picture), highly carbonated, but with little hop character. It was very much like a Czech pilsner, like a Pilsner Urquell that hadn't been skunked on the way over to America -- rich and malty with a little bit of clean hops on top. Tasty -- and USDA-certified organic -- but it seems like a different kind of thing than the dark Alts.

There was another Northwest Alt on tap at Belmont Station when I was there, the Collaborator Alt, but it didn't really clarify anything for me. It was dark and smooth, but wasn't hoppy, wasn't particularly malty. Nice drinking, but didn't help me figure out Alts at all. Corey's article mentions finding Diebels Alt at Whole Foods, but they no longer have it. Higgins has Diebels on their antique online beer menu -- I'll have to go down there and see if they still have it.

At some point I will venture into the wilds of Southwest Portland to see what Alts John's Market has for sale. In the meantime, if you have an opinion, tell me what it's about: help me figure out Alts.

Next Stop, Belmont Station

When I first rolled into town, a visit to the Horsebrass was always followed by an obligatory stop at Belmont Station, the beer store next door. In a cramped little room, you would scan the shelves lined with single bottles, until you decided which Northwest or Belgian or British beers you had to have. Then you would go to the clerk and tick them off on your fingers, "I'll have two of the little Tripel Karmeliets, and a Fuller's ESB, and a Dick's Barley Wine". While you perused the glassware or the British foodstuffs -- banana ketchup??? -- the clerk would rummage around in the back and bring out your beers stuffed into a six-pack holder from some other brewery.

It was a quaint ritual, and they had a good beer selection, but the new location on Stark Street -- not that new, since January 2007 -- is far superior. Now you can pull your own beer off the shelf or out of the cooler! No more head-slapping when you get home and realize you forgot the one beer you went there for; no more buyer's remorse when you get tongue-tied and ask for the wrong bottle. The new place is bigger, too. I mean, you could still fit three Belmont Stations into John's Market over in Multnomah Village, but there's plenty of good inventory to empty your wallet on.

Another benefit of the new location is the attached pub -- the Biercafe -- including a few tables on the sidewalk. They only have four taps, but they keep them tasty -- or, as the cafe boss Wade put it to me today, "No crap on tap". It's not unusual to see less common locals like Double Mountain or Fort George on tap. Today for local flavor they had the Collaborator Altimate, plus some California and Colorado imports: a 10% HeBrew Ale, Avery Maharaja IIPA, and Six Rivers Kona Porter. That's obscure Green Dragon-ish territory. Way to go, guys! According to the Belmont Station beer blog, the cafe has plans to increase the number of taps to at least 10. That will make it an even more attractive hangout.

If you like the selections on tap, you can get a half-gallon growler to go -- prices depend on the beer. They'll sell you a two-quart mason jar for $3 if you forgot to bring your own jug. And, if you don't like the selections on tap, pick a bottle from the store side, pay a little bit of a markup, and drink it in the cafe. Highly civilized. They also have a curious device called a "surger" that purports to turn a bottled Guinness into a draft-like pint with ultrasound waves. I'm not sure what to make of that; probably if I'm dying for a Guinness I'll go find one on tap somewhere, but maybe someday I'll think of some other beer that I want microwaved.

Belmont Station is truly Southeast Portland's beer geek Candy Store. It's also the place to call if you need a keg of something offbeat -- they'll special order you almost anything in the state.