We are enveloped in a dense cloud of information on all sides. From infancy we understand that mom is warmth and love. We understand that daddy is something dear to us and he tells us some stories that we don’t understand yet, but we know they are interesting.
Over the years, many of us lose this ability to sense at the subconscious level – it is replaced by more material sources of information, and we begin to trust them. And, of course, the television is in the first place for many. It broadcasts almost around the clock, destroying our ability to think. It tells us what is right and what is wrong, what the characters in the books we read looked like. This is why we usually dislike the movies adaptations of our favorite books – the movies try to replace the images we have created with others created by someone else. Not always, but very often.
Books are being read less and less-it’s easier to watch TV and swallow information chewed up by someone else. After all, up there, they know everything better than we do! Thankfully, beer has not yet been replaced by television and is still enjoyed by millions. And every beer tells a story.
Don’t be surprised, it doesn’t just follow all the rules of storytelling, it also penetrates into the most hidden corners of the subconscious. Each beer created by the brewer tells its story in a strict sequence: the beginning, the main part and, often, a very unexpected ending.
The first sip is perceived rather cautiously, it is something like an overture in an orchestra. From the first seconds we begin to analyze the beer. Is it cold enough? Is it too cold? Do we like the tingling gas on our tongue? How sweet is it? The closer the beer is to the tip of our tongue, the better we feel the sweetness. The first sips we take evoke associations: sometimes it reminds us of gum, candy, an apple, or maybe the caramels my grandmother always had, or the cotton candy I used to buy when I was walking with my parents in the park. These associations are extraordinarily varied, as are the memories they evoke. They are like the tip of a huge iceberg in the North Sea.
With the next sip, the beer washes over the middle of the tongue and the upper palate. And we subconsciously continue to analyze it. It lies lifeless, flat on our tongue or dances in our mouths (I call it happy beer). Tasting German unfiltered beer, for example, we taste cloves, lemons, and bananas. In Israel, we are not surprised by bananas or lemons, but someone is reminded of a summer vacation in a distant, hot country where bananas are plentiful.
As we near the finish line, beer continues to tell us its own story, made up of memories and associations. Beer, unlike wine, cannot be spit out (I can’t even imagine such a thing!!), it must be swallowed. It is there, at the base of the tongue, that most of the recipes for bitterness are located. And they complement the sweetness to form an interesting, often very harmonious duo.
What about aroma, you may ask? A beer aroma is like an experienced conductor who hears all the instruments of an orchestra and with his magic wand reduces or increases all the sounds and our senses. It usually doesn’t immediately open up to you. Some smells come up, then they leave and others take their place. Depending of the taste and color of the beer, the brewer also selects the aroma of the hops. This magical aura, woven from different smells, accompanies you, changing periodically and constantly adding interesting details to the story the beer tells.
Finally, let me tell you about the beer “Autumn Garden“, which I brewed back in 2013 for one of anniversary of our brewery. The beer is red, reminiscent of the colors of autumn and takes us imperceptibly into this golden season. It has a very calm taste, even a bit sad. A sweetish aroma runs parallel to the taste and is very similar to it. Then the aroma goes somewhere and in the next sip suddenly explodes with a bright bouquet of some flowers and autumn fruits. When I was brewed this beer, I imagined myself in an autumn park, not our Israeli park, because in Israel “winter” come immediately after summer. I’m walking through this park in some European country. Enjoy the silence, and as I stirred up the pile of fallen leaves with my shoe, I suddenly felt a real explosion of autumnal scents. And this aroma takes me back to my distant youth, when I was walking in Baku park “The Third Garden”…
Every good beer tells its own story, which the brewer thinks about when he created it. Like a good book, everyone reads it differently, but it is there. And this history is written special for you.