IPA

Jalapeño Popper Beer Cheese Dip, super quick blend and bake dip that’s highly addictive and delicious! 

You think, naively, that buying hops is like buying anything else.  You decide that mosaic hops are your jam, you figure out how many pounds you need to make the beer you want to brew, you pay your tab and go on to your next task. It’s not until you watch the pros hop shop that you realize how wrong you are.

Deep in a hop field in Yakima, we walk towards a converted house that now functions as an office. Rowdy brewers and hop growers, loudly chatting just minutes ago, are suddenly silent with reverence and respect as we all walk inside. A conference room, lit by overhead fluorescent lights, holds a table front and center. Hops sit in small cylindrical containers as if on a stage waiting for their moment of judgment. If they were capable of emotion, they’d be nervous.

Only the brewers sit, the room is as silent as Pebble Beach when Tiger steps up to the tee. They assess the piles, all different lots of the same hops. The brewers are here to choose— not the type of hops, that’s already been decided—but WHICH hops. They’re all centennial hops, all meticulously grown in different parts of the Pacific Northwest. The brewers are here to decide which centennial hops to choose. Like deciding which Granny Smith apple you want to bake with, the ones grown in Yakima, Hermiston, or Idaho. To the average beer drinker the difference between each pile isn’t even perceivable, but to these experts the difference can make or break next years beer. The decision is crucial.

We wait, watching the churning of thoughts, senses, and indefinable gut feelings, it’s all palpable as the men rub the hops into oblivion between their hands, press their faces into their palms and inhale deeply. Repeating for each pile. Notes are written, the room remains silent—you don’t talk in a man’s backswing.

When it’s over, you can feel it. They come back into the present and make eye contact, ready to compare notes. Beards and bodies flaked with hop leaves, palms yellowed by lupulin oils. The air in the room is lighter, reverence replaced by anticipation. Smiles return to their faces and for a second you can see a flicker of doubt that the right decision was made. When the conclusion is confirmed across the board by the other men that doubt is replaced by satisfaction.

"This batch is the most floral, lots of citrus, nothing off. This one, I get a hint of dill on the end that I don’t like." Extraordinary to anyone outside of the nuances of this science, all decision-makers came to the same conclusion. It’s remarkable, like a concert conductor hearing one slightly out of tune flute in a symphony of hundreds of instruments. Once the decision is made, beer is poured, a small celebration that opens the room.

I spent the week in Yakima, following the Founders Brewing team from hop field, to supplier, to innovation growers, like a lost puppy. They generously invited me to tag along and watch a process so fascinating it left an indelible mark on how I perceive hops.

I came back and scoured my local bottle shops for Founders beer, luckily it’s much easier to find in Washington state these days. I, of course, needed to make something where the bold hop flavors show through. Aggressively addictive beer cheese dip it is, bring on the fall.

I was invited to Yakima to join the Founders Brewing team, I was provided with a hotel room without expectation or obligation. I was not asked to write about my experiences. All opinions, ideas, and photos are my own. 

Easy Beer Cheese and Bacon Pull-apart Loaf

I laughed so hard that it hurt. Coming back from the first night of brewery hopping, after a 7-hour drive up into the high desert of Oregon, I walked back to the hotel with my favorite travel companion laughing so hard I could hardly stand.

Maybe the reason I have such a love in my soul for Bend is the world class selection of beer. The epic and nearly endless supply of breweries dotted across the small mountain town is nothing short of mecca worthy. Maybe it’s that fact that Bend is always a good time, the way a getaway weekend should be. Maybe it’s combination of things.

 It’s a trip that needs at least three days to get through. Pacing along the way with food and coffee to keep you upright. My favorite stop was Crux Fermentation Project, who still had not one but TWO fresh hop beers on tap, Mo Fresh was fantastic, one of my favorite beers I sampled that day. Ten Barrel was worth the trip just for the location. It was packed to the walls with eager patrons but I was able to squeeze in a seat at the bar for a pint or two.

Sunriver Brewing's Vicious Mosquito IPA was a highlight among the flurry of well-hopped beer that Bend has to offer. Taking up residence right down the road from Ten Barrel makes this a good pair to give your afternoon to.

For the food the standout was the Eggs Benedict at The Victorian Cafe, totally worth the hour wait. Other than that it was a weekend filled with bar food.

I came home missing the mountains and a weekend filled with cheese and carbs. Of course, that’s just what I made.

That’s Tyson in the background. A little something I picked up on the way home from Bend. A fat bulldog to keep my company when I bake.

I’ve made no secret of my love for grilling.

Once the weather breaks and I’m able to do so without the threat of rain, grilling becomes my go-to cooking method. I’ve even moved my Char-Broil grill across three states because I wasn’t able to part with it. Four years and three moves later it still grills like a champ.

I know the sad face reactions that go on when I give you a grilled item and you don’t own a grill. So this is for you. Or your dad, since we both know he’d love a new grill for Father’s Day. I’m giving you a beautiful, brand new Char-Broil grill with the hope that you’ll fall as in love with yours as I am with mine.

You also won’t have to decide between a gar or a charcoal grill since this grill does both, which will also either stop the debates on which is better, or fuel them (pun intended).

Here it is, my gift to you: A recipe for Grilled Beer Cheese Stuffed Bacon Wrapped Jalapeños, a Gas2Coal Combo Char-Broil grill, and both of my cookbooks, autographed if you’d like.

Just promise me that you’ll make some beer food once you get it, and send me a picture.

Enter in the widget below, give it a second to load, refresh the page if you can’t see it. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

We have a winner! Congrats, Joel! Hope you put it all to good use.

Char-Broil has provided the grill for this giveaway, I was not compensated for this post. All opinions are my own. 

Crispy Oven Baked Beer Battered Onion Rings

Last year, on the east side of Portland, I came across a line of people wrapped around a small bar waiting to get inside. Of course, I went to investigate. I asked one of the guys in line what was going on, "Bell’s is here." That’s all he had to say, I got it.

They weren’t giving away beer. They weren’t launching a new beer. They were just allowing the great people of the Pacific Northwest the ability to BUY their beer. Two sixers a person.

When beer distribution is often limited to a small section of the country, beer people are thrilled to the point of waiting in a 45-minute line for the opportunity to buy a beer they can’t normally get.

No matter where you live you have access to a beer that people in other parts of the country are beer-lusting after. Maybe it’s Bell’s, or Surly, or Alchemist, or Russian River, but it’s something.

You have the ability to buy, or drink on tap, a beer that other people can’t. Two bottles of Bell’s new beer, Oatsmobile, showing up at my out-of-the-distribution-zone door in gorgeous packaging made my day for more than just the above reasons.

The bar was high when I finally let myself open this beer, and it didn’t disappoint. It’s a damn good beer. One of the best sessions beers I’ve had this year (a session beer is a beer that has a lower alcohol content, generally below 5%).

The oats give it a round, almost creamy flavor that balances the beautiful dry hopped finish. It kicks you a bit of a fruity, but not overly citrusy, flavor with just the right malt backbone and the perfect level of carbonation for a beer that I want to drink all summer. But I can’t. Because I live in Seattle. If you live in a Bell’s state, stock up. And then taunt me over social media.