March is such a weird time for me when it comes to writing a beer column. Sure, there’s St. Patrick’s Day, and local breweries release the occasional dry Irish stout or Irish red to correspond with that, but there just aren't enough of them doing a St. Paddy’s release for it to be a thing in the way that would make it easy to write about. Plus, let’s be real, a St. Patrick’s Day spent drinking anything other than Guinness is just sparkling binge drinking.
Then there’s International Women’s Day, and the beers folks put out for that. But these releases are hard to find, frequently taproom or event-exclusive, and as I said last year, often brewed by men to “honor the women in their lives.” Which… is a bit like Target selling a shirt that celebrates National Small Business Day. Team Nevertheless, thankfully, continues to point folks in the right direction for beer brewed by women, and you should follow them if you’re still on the Meta apps. (Relatedly, Wandering Leaf Brewing’s head brewer Erica Sorenson, who is at least twice as cool as me, holy Christ, put up a hilarious—and pointed—post about women in brewing for International Women's Day.)
So where does all that leave me, exactly? Apparently right here, giving in to the entropic forces of the vernal equinox’s celestial vibe-shift by just listing five beers I enjoyed recently. I know, I’m disappointed in me, too.
Modist Brewing Co.: Folklor
Oak-aged Bock / 6.3% ABV / ?? IBU
Modist released a new oak-aged beer. So uhhh… any of you who read this column with any regularity should have known this was coming. In fact, I’m starting to believe that Modist will never release an oak-aged beer that I don’t love, and that the North Loop brewery can probably just go ahead and call itself the foremost purveyor of wood-flavored malt beverages in the state—perhaps even the Upper Midwest more broadly. Dear Modist: Please send all future oak-aged beers directly to me for a quick tasting so I can continue to certify this status.
Folklor has a strong malt aroma I associate with caramunich malt. Caramunich is a traditional German malt that has a pronounced caramel and malt aroma, and it's frequently found in dark German lagers. Folklor’s flavor is more mild and complex—malt and toast that fades to an oaky dry astringency. It’s medium-light in body, and has lower than average carbonation, which is just fine with me because too much carbonation would detract from the complex flavors here.
Ursa Minor Brewing: Equanimity
Irish Red / 5.3% ABV / 15 IBU
I know I said above that the drink for Saint Patrick’s day is Guinness—and it is—but if you need a palate cleanser, I can think of few better than Ursa Minor Brewing out of Duluth’s take on an Irish Red. They recently changed up the packaging on this beer, which is initially what caught my eye at the store, and I’m glad it did. Having this beer again for the first time in a while was a treat. It smells like bread and caramel malt, and it tastes like sweet toasted bread crusts. Its light body also makes it quite drinkable. Part of me wants to pour it out into a bowl and dip some Irish soda bread in it in order to create a bread-ception moment, but alas, I am quite despairingly without any soda bread at press time.
Invictus Brewing: Black as the Pit
Black IPA / 8% ABV / 73 IBU
I’ve said before that “Black IPAs” are “hard to articulate in strictly rational terms, leaving Black IPAs to drift in liminal space, like eldritch gods waiting for unsuspecting mortals to speak their names and return them to the material plane.” So, it should be no surprise to hear that when I see one on the shelf, I buy it. I’m into that sort of thing, and welcome the eldritch gods with open arms. Sanity is for the weak.
And, while I didn’t necessarily expect the eldritch gods to appear in… *checks notes* Blaine? I suppose I shouldn’t expect it to make sense. Thankfully, Black as the Pit smells less like Cthulhu and more like resinous pine and citrus, and its flavor skews piney with an orange peel rindiness. That’s a technical term. If you ever aspire to write about beer, or be respected as a beer person, you’ll want to write that down: r.i.n.d.i.n.e.s.s. Like, “rindy” but with a little extra hand wave for good measure. Anyway, the roastier and toastier notes typical of the style are mostly drowned out by the hops here, but I’m not complaining.
Montgomery Brewing: Bohemian Club
Czech Pilsner / 4.8% ABV / 21 IBU
I very rarely meet a Czech pilsner I don’t like, so I make it a habit of trying just about every one I see. I hadn’t seen this one from Montgomery, Minnesota's Montgomery Brewing at my local liquor stores before, though the internet tells me it’s been around for a year now, so suffice to say, I went home with it. Bohemian Club smells like clean biscuit, which is to be expected for the style. However, the flavor threw a nice curveball with some unexpected lemon notes in addition to the yeast and noble hop funk typical of the style. It’s light-bodied, with a moderate bitterness, and imminently refreshing. Perfect for when you’ve been dancing around in a boldly colored patterned skirt and need a bit of a break. Might not work if you’re wearing pants, though. I haven’t tested that yet.
Bad Weather Brewing Co.: Haze Oasis
Hazy IPA / 7% ABV / 40 IBU
I must admit I’m late to the party on the latest year-round hazy IPA from St. Paul's Bad Weather. The market is so saturated with four-packs of 16 oz hazy IPA cans singing the siren song of New England—encouraging me to spend $20 or more for the privilege of taking them home—that I often forget that hazy IPAs come in other formats, and at much more attractive price points. Haze Oasis smells like flowers and limes, and its flavor offers still more lime with the addition of stone fruit. It has a very low bitterness, medium body, and a carbonation level that ties it all together nicely. It’s not like many other hazies I’ve had, in a good way, and it’s a great 12 oz pick if you’d like to spend your Hazy IPA money more sensibly.
