Prosecco marries with richly spiced mulled cider and a splash of vodka in this seasonal take on the classic Bellini served at the now-closed Caffè Storico in New York City. While the original recipe called for a fig-flavored vodka such as Figenza, regular vodka works just as well in this fall cocktail.

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This recipe is brought to you by the SAVEUR Cookbook Club, our passionate community of food-loving readers from around the globe celebrating our favorite authors and recipes. Join us as we cook through a new book every month, and share your food pics and vids on social media with the hashtags #SAVEURCookbookClub and #EatTheWorld.

Though this recipe for Guinness punch might bring to mind a festive Irish pub, it harkens back to a favorite beverage on several Caribbean islands during the period of British colonization, and connects directly to activist and cookbook author Lelani Lewis’ Irish-Grenadian heritage. As she notes in her book Code Noir: Afro-Caribbean Stories and Recipes, in the 17th century, Guinness decided to export a beer that could survive the Transatlantic journey to the Caribbean to serve the Irish contract laborers in the region. This mixture of strong stout beer, creamy, sweet condensed milk, and a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg is a delightful fusion of flavors, and just one culinary example of the collision of many cultures and cuisines across the Caribbean. 

While Lewis likes to prepare the punch with Guinness’ West Indies Porter, it can also be made with any Guinness stout or porter of choice. Overproof rum is a high-alcohol version of the Caribbean’s staple spirit—a little goes a long way, so don’t overdo it.

Adapted from Code Noir: Afro-Caribbean Stories and Recipes (Tra Publishing, February 20, 2024) by Lelani Lewis. Food photography copyright © Remko Kraaijeveld 2023.

Featured in “A New Cookbook Celebrates Caribbean Cuisine—And Reckons with Its Complicated History” by Jessica Carbone.

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Perusing the beverage menus of most pizzerias in Italy, you might assume that the omnipresent Coca-Cola and industrial lagers are the perfect pizza companions. Sure, you’ll find some vino in the mix, but most places are content to pour Peroni, Moretti, or Nastro Azzurro. I love beer with my pizza as much as the next Rome dweller, but to me, wine is often the better bet by a long shot, with its palate-cleansing effervescence and acidity. Plus, with as many wine varieties as there are villages in Italy, vino makes for infinite pairing possibilities that enhance the pizza-eating experience.

But before grabbing any old bottle, first consider your toppings. Are we working with acidic tomato sauce? Sweetly lactic (or hard, savory) cheeses? Whether you opt for cooked vegetables or cured meats or neither of the above, you’ll want to think about how each component will react with the wine. 

The old saying goes, “If it grows together, it goes together,” referring to the natural affinity between local produce and local wine. Considering Campania is the ancestral Italian homeland of pizza as we know it (the Neapolitans were the first to deploy tomato sauce and melted mozzarella), it’s logical that the wines of that region are natural pizza partners. But there are plenty of other Italian vini, as well as beers and sodas, that will elevate your next pizza night. 

Here are some pairing suggestions to amp up your next pizza party.

Marisa Cuomo Ravello Bianco

You can practically taste the sea air with each sip of this bright, acidic, and briny white wine, made from vines that cling to the Amalfi Coast. Cuomo’s Ravello Bianco complements Margherita pizzas, as well as pies made with smoked mozzarella or provolone. Its briny acidity cleanses the palate between bites of creamy, gooey cheese. 

Collestefano Verdicchio di Matelica

Le Marche, the Italian region 250 miles north of Campania, may not have much of a pizza culture of its own, but its Verdicchio-based white wines that deliver balanced acidity are a perfect partner for a range of pizzas. Collestefano’s Verdicchio di Matelica pairs well with a wide variety of toppings, but I especially love sipping it alongside white pizzas with vegetables and pizza capricciosa (mozzarella, tomato, prosciutto, mushrooms, marinated artichoke, olives, and hard-boiled eggs).

Vadiaperti’s Greco di Tufo

Greco di Tufo, a white grape purportedly of Greek origin as its name implies, has been producing sought-after white wines from Campania’s Irpinia subregion since pre-Roman times. Vadiaperti’s entry level greco has bracing acidity and mineral notes that cut through rich, cheese-topped pies, while the wine’s smoky finish (perhaps a reflection of Irpinia’s volcanic terrain) enhances pizzas made with smoked mozzarella or provolone.

Cinque Campi’s Cinquecampi Lambrusco 

This traditionally made Lambrusco (we’re talking bottle fermented, not the usual force carbonation) blends indigenous grapes like Lambrusco Grasparossa, Malbo Gentile, and Marzemino, which lend this particular Lambrusco an inky purple color, as well as red-fruit and floral notes. I like to kick back a few glasses of this bubbly when I’m having a meat-heavy pie, since the bubbles and tannin are a nice foil to fatty sausage, meatballs, or salami.

Pranzegg Rosso Leggero

Schiava and Lagrein, two Northern Italian grapes transformed into light-bodied, fruity reds in their Austria-adjacent zone, team up in this “light red” by Pranzegg. The wine is true to its billing and is best served slightly chilled to accentuate its lightness, while the acidity cuts the fat of pizzas oozing with gooey cheese or topped with spiced or spicy cold cuts. 

Faccoli Franciacorta Extra Brut (NV)

This Champagne-style sparkling wine from Lombardy is as structured and refreshing as your favorite champagne, and its minerality and fine bubbles go wonderfully with subtler pizzas—think ones with aromatic prosciutto and ethereal ricotta.

Baladin Isaac

If you prefer beer to vino, this Belgian-inspired Italian wheat beer from Piedmont has citrus and herb notes, which deliver fresh, food-friendly, and thirst-quenching sips. Pair it with hefty creations like a pistachio e mortadella pie. 

Loverbeer BeerBera

Italian Grape Ale, or “IGA,” a play on IPA, is an intriguing marriage of wine and beer. This Piemontese beer is influenced by Belgium, specifically that country’s sour ales, and uses barbera grapes for their fruity acidity. The resulting tang and fine fizziness will carry you through everything from pungent cheeses to fatty cured meats. 

Mole Cola

Coca-Cola won’t be disappearing from Italian pizzerias anytime soon (let alone American ones!), but artisanal Italian colas like Mole Cola are an intriguing alternative. This bubbly beverage—flavored with a proprietary blend of ingredients including kola nut extract and natural aromas, and about as much sugar as a standard Coke—has a lingering sweetness and bitter finish that round out everything from pizza Margherita to a pizza noci e zucchine (walnut pesto and zucchini).

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It can be easy to get lost in the labyrinthine trails of Nopalito Farm and Hopyard in northeast San Diego County. Hop farms are strangely evocative of oceanic kelp forests: fields filled with gently waving, upward-reaching verdant plants that can tower so high, they blot out the sun. But unlike the unsustainable and sometimes-violent mechanized kelp-dredging process, hop harvests are done delicately and by hand on small farms to ensure their perennial return.

The typical hop plant—a member of the hemp family—generally takes three years to fully mature, making growing hops a laborious process. Hops thrive in moderate climates that have lots of both sunshine and rain as well as distinct seasonal temperature fluctuations. The Yakima region of Washington State is by far the most prolific hop-growing province in the United States, but hop farms can be found as far north as the Canadian border and as far south as Mexico’s.

While only three of Nopalito’s 16 acres are dedicated to five hop varieties—the rest are home to crops such as avocado and citrus—those boundaries contain a few thousand hop bines. Hops grow on bines, not vines, meaning the stems use tiny, stiff hairs to climb sunward. The fields, regardless of size, must be regimented into distinct rows with picture-frame-like trellises spaced just far enough apart to allow farmers to slip between the plants. The farmers typically run taut cords of coir twine (a strong, fibrous, sticky string) perpendicular to the ground to provide the bines an easy route toward the sun. Nopalito uses two strings per plant, retied and reknotted twice by hand every spring, to support the weight of an eventual full-grown bine, which can reach up to 15 feet by harvest.

“The longer the days get, the quicker the bines grow,” says Jordan Brownwood, who, along with his wife, Mariah, purchased Nopalito farm in 2014. “Once they’re all the way up, they start growing out and developing their flowers, called cones. Around the solstice, they can grow 4 to 6 inches in a day.” As the hops mature, a fresh aroma—reminiscent of cannabis—permeates the landscape. Hints of pine, earth, and sometimes even tropical fruits such as passion fruit or guava edge in, depending on the strain. Eventually the plants’ perishable essential oils or resins, which are responsible for these aromas, will interact with yeast from the brewing process, adding nuance to a beer’s final flavor. Sometimes, the flavors and aromas are not so subtle, as in the hop-derived bitterness that comes about from adding the hops early in the beermaking process. But other times, the flowers lend the subtle aromas of the strain and the growing source, a citrusy note or an earthy one, a specificity of a place and a moment in time some would say is similar to terroir.

Most of the world’s hop harvest happens during the month of September, with a few weeks on either end, depending on the area. Thanks to San Diego’s arid climate, Nopalito’s harvest tends to fall a few weeks before those of farms in the Pacific Northwest, but all hop farms in the United States are constrained by time when it comes to picking.

“Each variety has a different pick window, which can last one to two days or up to a week,” says Zak Schroelucke, marketing manager for Crosby Hop Farm in Woodburn, Oregon. Because of Nopalito’s comparatively diminutive acreage, its harvest window for the entire year is even shorter: about six hours, which means the farmers will often pick, separate, and hand-deliver their whole crop to a handful of local breweries the same afternoon.

Hyperlocal craft breweries are willing to pay a premium for exceedingly fresh hops in order to brew “wet hop beers,” which can be made only during the hop-harvest season. Rather than using pellets (hops that have been dried, pelletized, and cold-stored for stable year-round use), wet hop beers use whole hop cones within 24 hours of picking, which requires several times the “normal” amount of hops a beer recipe generally calls for. The cost for this once-a-year brew can run a small brewery’s margin into the ground, but that’s beside the point for brewers and fans smitten with the ethereal beer style. They believe it showcases the true essence of the plant’s personality, which means that, once a year, there’s a chance to capture the apex of each sun-drenched bud’s life span in one perfect pint.

The post The Hop Growing Process Behind the Perfect Pint of Beer appeared first on Saveur.

In Northern Spain’s Basque Country, the process of naturally fermenting apples into low-alcohol cider is a centuries-old tradition. But in the United States, Americans have only just begun catching on to the acerbic versatility of its complex flavors. It can be an acquired taste; unlike the sweetened hard cider that Americans are more familiar with, cider from the Basque region and its neighbor Asturia is considerably more acidic. It has little to no sugar. It is unfiltered or “natural,” meaning fermentation occurs because of the native yeast that is already present on the skins of apples. Nothing is added—no sweeteners, no additional yeast. The effect is a layer of funk on the flavor, and underneath a swish that is both bone-dry and tart. It is a beverage that begs to be paired with food.

Chefs and beverage directors agree, and that’s why more and more drink lists across the United States are starting to include a Basque cider or two. Leading the charge is Txikito, the acclaimed Basque restaurant in Chelsea from chefs and owners Alex Raij and Eder Montero. On a recent Sunday evening in early spring, Raij and Montero transformed Txikito into a pop-up sagardotegi, the cider houses unique to the Spanish Basque country. Since the 11th century when Basque cider-makers first began fermenting apples into potent beverages, sagardotegiak have sat at the core of Basque culture. Every year from January to May, Basque cider houses fling open their doors, inviting guests to savor the first ciders of the season, to eat, sing, and make music together as a unified, thirst-quenched community.

At Txikito on that lively Sunday evening, Raij and Montero served the traditional cider house fare of cod omelettes and wood-fired txuletas, the customary bone-in steak. One of the many highlights of the evening was the txotx (pronounced “choke”), the centuries-old Basque cider house ritual of tapping a new barrel of cider. Once the tap is released, sending cider streaming out of the barrel like a sweet-scented fountain, drinkers rush to thrust their cups under the tap before any cider can hit the ground. The ritual feels sacred.

The sharp beverage that spewed from Txikito’s barrel was Shacksbury Cider’s 2014 vintage of ‘The Basque,” an unfiltered extra dry cider made from a blend of 30 apples native to Northern Spain. The apples are pressed and then fermented for three to four months before being shipped to Vermont, where the cidery is located. Owners David Dolginow and Colin Davis are working hard to expose the American palate to Basque cider. The flavor of The Basque, perfectly brisk and dry, is meant to surprise, Dolginow said. “We wanted to come out right out of the gate to show what the apple is capable of doing—without any flavoring or additives,” he said.

At Tinto in Philadelphia, Chef Jose Garces has created a dining menu comprised of traditional pintxos and entrees that showcase the flavors of Basque cuisine. The seafood-driven plates include some real delicacies: Spanish octopus with green olive aioli, diver scallops with a uni emulsion, and shrimp with chorizo and espelette chile. Tinto’s Beverage director, Justin Holden, tells me that it was a “no brainer” to include cider on the menu because the drink is such an integral part of Basque culture.

“Eight years ago in Philadelphia there was not a scene for cider…it used to be a completely foreign concept,” he says. “Today we’re seeing that people need a lot less education than they used to.” Holden attributes the beverage’s evolution among Americans to the prevalence of natural wines and fermented Lambics. But don’t expect fermented ciders to push Sangria and classic riojas into the corner just yet. “It is still a very new concept,” he adds.

Huertas, a temple to the Basque culinary scene in New York City’s East Village, has skillfully translated the Basque pintxos bar experience for an American audience. Instead of laying out massive platters of pintxos out on the bar counter as is the tradition in the Basque country, servers here wander among the tables, wielding large pintxos trays dim-sum style. Chef and co-owner Jonah Miller was inspired to open Huertas (which means orchard in Spanish) after studying abroad in Spain during college. Upon returning to New York he was disappointed by the dearth of Northern Spanish cuisine and decided to roll up his sleeves and recreate those food experiences, as well as Basque beverage culture, which he found to be even less represented in the New York dining scene. Miller’s business partner Nate Adler, who serves as beverage manager and co-owner of Huertas, drank his way through the coastal city of San Sebastian before putting together Huertas’s drink menu. “When I went over there, I saw that people drink all day long,” he says. They attribute the secret to their day drinking to low alcohol cocktails like kalimoxto—red wine mixed with coke, and of course, cider. “Basque cider is so unique,” says Adler. “If you like it, you’re not going to find that flavor profile in anything else in the world.” Both Adler and Miller say that the number of customers who come to Huertas specifically to drink cider has spiked. “On a macro level, the palates of consumers have grown up in the past few years,” Adler says. Miller agrees, adding that customers exhibit a stronger interest in acidic beverages than in the past.

While its sharp bite might be off-putting for some, Basque cider taps into the micro beverage zeitgeist in America today, one in which dry and crisp have edged out over bold and fruity at the top of the food chain. There is no stronger indication of cider’s sudden relevance in American beverage culture than the sundry of cider bars popping up around the country. In San Francisco, self-described “cider house-gastropub” Upcider offers ciders from around the world including the Basque favorite, Istastegi. Washington D.C. will soon get its first cider bar with Anxo, a Basque restaurant, bar, and cidery opening in late 2015. Chicago eagerly awaits the opening of Northman, its first cider pub set to open this summer. And in late March, New York City welcomed Wassail, which boasts a rotating list of some 100 ciders from around the world. Wassail currently carries Isastegi as well as the 2013 Zapiain. Both can also be found at Huertas, along with the 2013 ‘The Basque’ from Shacksbury Ciders. The 2014 vintage will soon join that list as well.

Huerta’s Adler recommends pairing cider with food that provides a good amount of funk and fat—think oily black anchovies, chicken, and pork sausage. Acidic cider and rich food, he says, are the perfect ying and yang, each working to express each other’s undertones, and alchemizing for an ideal balance of flavor.

The appeal of Basque ciders and food is found in the reverence of raw ingredients and the simple fuss-free traditions of their production. Whether in the ancient cider houses of the Basque region or in a shimmering new bar in America, one fact remains universal: cider, like most things, tastes best when paired with good food and great company.

3 Ciders to Try Right Now:

Zapiain Sagardoa
Zapiain is citrusy on the on the nose and the palate. It’s sour and crisp with strong acidity on the finish. Similar to light or medium white wine. It’s an ideal pairing with fish such as branzino or cod.
Available through Rowan Imports

Shacksbury 2013 “The Basque”
“The Basque” has a slight effervescence due to the natural co2 that occurs from the natural fermentation process. Like all Basque ciders, it is unfiltered, producing a flavor that is slighty unbridled and redolent of wet hay. The apple flavor is very prominent. Compared to other Basque ciders, “The Basque” is considered to be softer and rounder, but still made in the style of bright and acidic.
Available through Shacksbury Ciders

Isategi
Isastegi has an effervescence that’s immediately apparent in pouring. There is a strong minerality that comes through on the palate. The Isastegi reveals a subtle umami quality reminiscent of oysters, which makes this cider an ideal pairing for shellfish. Compared to the other Basque ciders, the Isastegi contains higher acids and more pronounced tannins.
Available through De Maison Imports

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Whether you’re coming off a difficult breakup, celebrating a blossoming love affair, or just plain wanting to hook up for the night, Valentine’s Day offers countless reason to drink.

If you’re timeworn and wary of the holiday like me, you’ll probably be staying in—in which case a big bottle of syrupy stout, like Brooklyn’s Black Ops or Foothills’ Sexual Chocolate, would be perfectly acceptable, especially as a post-dinner drink with a big slice of chocolate cake. But after a week of eating more than my fair share of Reese’s mini peanut butter cups and assorted truffles from the communal office candy bowl, I’ll be ready for something sans chocolat.

One option is AleSmith’s My Bloody Valentine Ale, a 6.66% ABV ruby-colored ale with aromas of perfumed flowers and an unexpectedly sweet, caramel-like finish. Amber ales are traditionally well balanced and approachable which means that they’re quite easy to pair with food (along with saisons and brown ales, they’re the workhorses of beer-and-food pairings), but notice that on the back of the bottle AleSmith recommends pairing this beer with “jilted lovers, reservations for one, or your favorite emo record,” the latter of which would have me rocking American Football’s pensive 1999 self-titled album or, more embarrassingly, Taking Back Sunday’s saccharine “Tell All Your Friends.” It would also pair equally well with anything from the world’s saddest cookbook.

Bitter Valentine

If your heavy heart requires something with a little more oomph, in terms of both bitterness and alcohol content, try hunting down a bottle of Bitter Valentine. With its brilliant orange color and huge aromas of grapefruit, pine, and resin, this double IPA from Williamsburg, Virginia’s Alewerks, is one of the best beers made on the East Coast. This year’s batch was bottled just this week, which means that it’s impeccably fresh and should be in stores soon. Sadly it’s nearly impossible to find outside of the Old Dominion.

Tart of Darkness

Finally, for those who have need of something tart, dark, and sour this year, check out The Bruery’s intriguing Tart of Darkness. The base beer is a simple stout, but The Bruery—experimentalists through and through—age it in oak barrels with a proprietary blend of souring bacteria and yeast. The result is a sour stout that is one of the best beers I’ve tried recently. Powerfully flavorful and complex to no end, the tartness is rounded out with a smooth sweetness from the roasted malts and an unexpected, almost red wine-like tannic structure. The flavor profile changes almost from sip to sip, with nutty richness giving way to waves of face-puckering sourness. For a food pairing, think about complimentary flavors, like tart goat cheese and dried sour cherries. And, if you must, you could even drink it with a heart-shaped box of dark chocolate candies.

My Bloody Valentine

AleSmith’s My Bloody Valentine Ale ($7 for 22oz), Alewerks’ Bitter Valentine ($10 for 22oz), and The Bruery’s Tart of Darkness ($25 for 750ml) are available in specialty beer stores. You can search BeerMenus to find where they’re available near you.

The post The Brew: Valentine’s Day Beers to Help You Drink Away the Pain appeared first on Saveur.

In 1835, atop Signal Hill in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Mrs. Garfield, the first operator at the Signal Hill Canteen, waited by the front door for her beer delivery. The main level had a tap room, bar, and cellar where off-duty soldiers would spend their time enjoying a beer or two with friends. Today, the foundation remains visible to tourists hiking along the trails as they take in the breathtaking views of St. John’s rocky coast and harbor while learning about the hill’s important role in the city’s defense from the 1640’s through World War II.

For an isolated, rugged, and weathered island steeped in history like Newfoundland, it has all the characteristics one would expect: a strong sense of pride and identity, a tight-knit, friendly community, and a long-lasting love affair with beer. Locals will also tell you that the island is notorious for being 20 years behind the rest of the country and United States. “We feel like we’re replaying a record that we’ve heard elsewhere. All we have to do is get on a plane and go somewhere, listen to what people are saying, and that story will be in the process of unfolding in Newfoundland. History is happening here, now,” says Hugh McDermott, the General Manager of Quidi Vidi Brewery, the first craft brewery to open on the island, on a quaint harbor in St. John’s in 1996.

While the rest of North America was experiencing a craft beer boom, it’s been nearly non-existent on the island for the past 20 years, outside of Quidi Vidi and Yellowbelly, a brewpub that opened its doors in 2008, also in St. John’s. That all changed last year when two women, Sonja Mills and Alicia MacDonald, moved from Nova Scotia to Port Rexton to open Port Rexton Brewing. They’ve become an inspiration to other aspiring brewers, and leaders in creating Newfoundland’s craft beer identity.

Previously a lawyer and nurse practitioner in Halifax, the couple lived through the craft beer explosion there and decided to dive into it. With initial plans to open in Nova Scotia, Sonja had returned to Newfoundland when her father got sick, and the two made the decision to just stay there, rather than opening in an already saturated market. They purchased a former school house and community center, and Port Rexton’s first brewery was born.

You might miss the town if you’re not looking for it. About three hours from St. John’s, you’ll drive down dirt roads, you’ll pass a post office, a church, a few houses, and then the unexpected glimmering lights strung across a large door in the distance. As you get closer, you’ll see people walking up, gathering in a cozy space with a lively crowd that almost looks like you’ve been transplanted to Brooklyn. There are the 60-year-old locals that have been drinking Molson for the past 40 years, and actually embracing the new flavor. There is the couple who made an overnight trip from St. John’s, and then there’s the group of beer-loving friends that flew in from Ontario to taste the award winning Horse Chops IPA.

These small communities were once threatened by the dying fishing industry, but are now seeing a resurgence. Younger generations that were leaving for better opportunities in the city are returning home and realizing there is a market for creative industries like brewing beer. “They’re yearning the quality of life that’s hard to find outside of Newfoundland. People want their kids to have the same quality childhood they had,” explains Matt Vincent on opening day of Split Rock Brewing in Twilingate, a town known for their icebergs and puffins.

Following Port Rexton’s success, Matt and his wife Allison returned to his hometown, and with their business partners Tim and Robin Vatcher, opened a brewery the locals were anxiously awaiting. “People here are finally looking at beer as an art, as an identity, and turning it into part of the community. Lately, people have been identifying with Newfoundland more, they want to show their support for the locals. It’s one of the reasons the young people are coming back.” While Matt and Allison are playing it safe for now, they’ve got a lineup that includes a stout, IPA, brown ale, and red rye. After building up his customers’ trust, he hopes to get more experimental with his IPAs, sours, and incorporating local ingredients.

The list for breweries continues to grow weekly. Gander, the town known for its hospitality during 9/11, the broadway show, Come From Away, and its control center, has locals waiting for their brewery. Within the next few weeks, two former pilots, Dave Jerrett and Sam Newman, are opening Scudrunner Brewing, named after the aviation term scud running that refers to flying in low lying clouds and maintaining visual contact with the terrain. It’s about having intuition, ingenuity, and experience, something Dave says is needed in an isolated place like Newfoundland. “They’re the qualities you need to make your community work, make life work here.”

Just as Scudrunner will be kicking off in Gander, the town of Dildo will be opening their first brewery in spring/summer 2018. With its quirky name, tourists are drawn in for a quick visit and photo in front of the sign. Yet with a new brewery in the making, the hopes are that it’ll become a destination worth staying a bit longer. Their existing museum is currently under renovation and will reopen as a joint brewery museum space, allowing visitors to not only taste the new flavors of Newfoundland, but learn a bit about the history of Dildo and its fishing culture.

Unintentionally planned, these breweries have dotted themselves across the island, setting up a craft beer trail that doubles as the ideal cross island roadtrip. It’s a destination that’s always been proud of its identity but only recently figured out the best way to express it. The locals are an inspiring and welcoming bunch, the scenery is some of the best around, and the beer culture is at a pretty exciting time in Newfoundland’s history.

Visiting Newfoundland? Here are some beer-activity pairings to try on the island:

Pasadena, NL
Must-Do: Hike Gros Morne National Park
Must-Drink: Have a beer from Western Newfoundland Brewing Company at Galliott Studios

Twillingate, NL
Must-Do: Book a boat tour to see the icebergs, whales, and puffins
Must-Drink: Have a beer at Split Rock Brewery

Port Rexton, NL and Trinity, NL
Must-Do: Hike Skerwink Trail
Must-Drink: Have a beer at Port Rexton Brewery, followed by a visit through the historical town of Trinity

St. John’s, NL
Must-Do: Hike Signal Hill
Must-Drink: Have a beer at Quidi Vidi Brewery and stop by Mallard Kitchen around the corner.

The post How to Drink Your Way Down the Craft Beer Trail of Newfoundland, Canada appeared first on Saveur.

Porridge is to Copenhagen what plate lunch is to Honolulu: There are take-out spots all over the city that serve it topped with everything from ginger and cilantro to sea buckthorn. Among the most classic (and delicious) of Danish gruels is øllebrød, known more so as the stuff your mom makes you as a kid in a pinch. But it’s not just popular because it’s quick and easy to make.

In Denmark, the regional rye bread, called rugbrød, is debatably sacred. Many bakeries stock upwards of five or six varieties of the nutty, rich, nutritious loaves. And when crumbs fall off while slicing it for smørrebrød, they’re not tossed. They’re saved (and soaked in beer) for this tangy, earthy breakfast treat.

Yes, beer. And cider too. Add a drizzle of barley malt syrup for a touch of sweetness and some cinnamon and cardamom for a breakfast full of character that’s as much about good taste as good thrift.

The post Danish Beer and Bread Porridge is the Breakfast of Champions appeared first on Saveur.

We’ve been drinking a lot of cider at SAVEUR. Every day around 4:30 or 5 p.m. for the last few of weeks, a new batch of bottles emerges on the test kitchen counter and a few of us pop the corks to test the lot.

In some ways this surplus of ciders reflects the will of American farmers and craft beverage-makers to uncover and share heirloom practices that have been lost to time; in the wake of Prohibition, the cider industry, like the beer industry, was erased. But unlike beer, cider never quite recovered to its former colonial era glory.

Not so long ago, it would have been difficult to gather this many American-born ciders for a tasting that ranged from bubbly and sweet to bittersweet and still, barrel-aged to bone dry. Now we have a wealth of options.

Even so, the cider industry is playing catch up to Asturias, Basque country, and Normandy, where the stuff is as ingrained in the culture and indicative of terroir as the apples themselves.At present, the average American cider is likely to be either candy-sweet or flatly banal, but take heart: For every dozen dullards, there’s an experimental weirdo bottle chock full of brettanomyces or a refined ale of crisp, juicy heirloom apples. (NB: Like local apples, many of these are only available regionally; keep an eye out when traveling and make cider your new souvenir.)

Of the dozens of bottles we’ve drunk through, these are the ciders that stuck with us.

Dry Ciders

Sundström, Sponti

Made by spontaneous fermentation and aged on the lees, this bottling of wild heirloom apples is dry with bright, delicate acidity. It’s slightly musky with great mineral qualities and a bit of brine. All of Leif Sundström’s ciders are produced in small quantities, so if you see a bottle, grab it.

Hudson Valley Farmhouse, God Speed the Plough

Nearly everything from Hudson Valley Farmhouse is worth checking out (see the funky, dry Scrumpy available by the growler and the single-varietal Winesap in half-bottles), but the God Speed the Plough—a blend of Dabinett and heirloom varietals—is especially expressive. Full of rich fruit, honey, sunny hay, and just a touch of sweetness, this label is one of the cidery’s best.

Shacksbury, Arlo

Bright sunny apple flavors mixed with sour citrus, the Arlo bottling from Shacksbury in Vermont is made with a blend of sweet American apples and bittersweet Basque varieties. The cidery’s funky Lost Apple-Pét-Nat edition is also worth a taste if you can find it.

A Little Sweeter

Eve’s Cidery, Darling Creek

From the Finger Lakes in New York, Eve’s has been making cider since 2001, and consistently produces some of the state’s best: always pure (no added sugar, and reflective of the chilly, clean Upstate environment. Ripe and wine-y, the 2015 of Darling Creek is an excellent example of semi-dry cider. With only a touch of toasted maple sweetness, this fresh-tasting cider is more fruit than added or residual sugar.

Descendent Cider Co., Succession

Made with six varieties of apple from the Hudson Valley, Descendent’s “Succession” was a pleasant surprise of dry, subtly sweet root beer flavors. This release has a slight sassafras bite and a healthy bubble, and—at $8 for 500ml—is a fantastic value.

Hudson Valley Farmhouse, Maeve’s

This off-dry cider from New York is a pub style, meaning—like English draught ales— it’s bright, quaffable, and full of lemon and orange flavors. Delicate with a backbone, and well paired with fish and chips or moules frites.

Flavored Ciders and CLOs (Cider-Like Objects)

Westwind Orchard, Raspberry

From a historic, holistic orchard in the Hudson Valley, this dry raspberry cider is something to behold. It’s made in collaboration with Aaron Burr’s cider maker, and gets its blushy hue from whole Westwind raspberries added during fermentation. Funky, sparkly-spangly, and only the slightest bit fruity, this cider tastes like the love child of a raspberry shrub and champagne.

Eden Imperial 11° Rosé

In a blind tasting, Eden’s pink, fizzy cider might be mistaken for bubbly rosé. This lightly sparkling bottle is infused with sour-tart red currants and then mixed with a bit of sweet ice cider to round out the edges.

Aaron Burr, Appinette

A blend of apples (70%) and Traminette grapes (30%), the Appinette from Aaron Burr, a nerdy, oddball cidery specializing in early-American style bottlings, is unsurprisingly winelike and pleasantly weird. Fruity but dry and earthy but bright, Burr’s hybrid is a testament to the innovation happening in American cider.

Art + Science, Quince

Just south of Portland, Oregon, Roshambo ArtFarm’s cider arm makes super quirky bottlings whose labels are adorned with colorful birds. This 100% quince cider (if you can call it that) is aromatic like stewed quince, but also rich and jammy like quince jelly. It’s a wonderful foil to hard cheeses and sourdough bread.

The Best of 2016

The post The Best American Ciders of 2016 appeared first on Saveur.

In this recipe, master sommelier Craig Collins of Irene’s in Austin, Texas brings together the best of traditional fall flavors and spices: apple cider, cinnamon, clove, and allspice. He recommends enjoying the punch “after your Thanksgiving meal, paired with pumpkin pie!”

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How did pumpkin beer become a thing? Save for the lowly pumpkin, no other produce category has been designated with an official Brewers Association style (there isn’t, say, an entire category of grapefruit beers or blueberry beers despite their proliferation). This is partially thanks to its long history as an American style. Dating back to colonial times, pumpkin ales were ubiquitous in the Northeast where the gourds were cheap and abundant in an era when quality malts were not. So, why not ferment them? When the craft beer revival took hold, pumpkin ales began to appear again. Starting with Buffalo Bill’s Pumpkin Ale in 1985, the category’s revival manifested in a dessert-like reformulation that leaned on baking spices rather than on the pumpkin itself (some of these beers didn’t even contain pumpkin). Still, they sold well, and pumpkin ales eventually became a part of most breweries’ autumn portfolios.

Recently, the category has faced a firing squad of criticism—“seasonal creep”—while sales have plummeted, and brewers have cut production across the country. Consumers have tired of these basic pumpkin spice brews. So have professionals. When the Great American Beer Festival was held in Denver in early October, the pumpkin/squash beer category had a pathetic nine entrants with the “winner,” Butt-Ah Nut from Oregon’s BTU Brasserie, awarded a mere bronze medal. (By GABF rules, gold medals are only awarded to superlative beers.)

But, as a contrarian, I support pumpkin ales—the ones made right, of course, that actually showcase pumpkin rather than cover it up. I love these beers that evoke the harvest season, make you feel like you’re sitting on a hay bale, riding a tractor through a patch. So forget the archetypical drivel that simply tastes like an overturned spice cabinet swirled with brown ale. Instead reconsider the category—the ambitious pumpkin saisons, sour ales, and even lambics. The rum-barrel-aged, bourbon-barrel-aged, and even sherry-barrel-aged. Beyond liquidized pies and latte syrup flavoring, these nine beers interpret the true flavor of the season’s humble gourd.

9 Contrarian Pumpkin Beers Worth Seeking Out

Boulevard Funkier Pumpkin | Spiced sour ale, 8.5% ABV

Generally more associated with sour beers, Brettanomyces—the wild yeast strain found on the skins of fruits—are alive and kicking in Boulevard’s Funkier Pumpkin. In this case, Brett adds an earthy funkiness to the raw beauty of fleshy, vegetal pumpkin.

Jolly Pumpkin La Parcela | Farmhouse ale, 5.9% ABV

No, Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales isn’t an all-pumpkin brewery. The Michigan brewery, however, is an all-farmhouse brewery, producing beers “from the earth” as brewmaster Ron Jeffries says. Like all of its offerings, “No 1 Pumpkin Ale” is made via open fermentation, inviting yeasts (like Brett) and souring bacteria into the mash. With just a hint of spice and cacao, La Parcela is a sour saison style, delicate, delightful, and very age-able.

Almanac Pumpkin Pie de Brettaville | American wild ale, 7.5%

In 2014, San Francisco’s Almanac Beer Co. released Heirloom Pumpkin, a barleywine packed with caramelized pumpkin and aged in brandy barrels. In my opinion, the limited offering was the best pumpkin ale ever made. Today, Almanac is still innovating with Pumpkin Pie de Brettaville featuring heirloom pumpkins roasted to deep, sugary caramelization that are added to an already-fermented Brett beer, then further aged in oak casks with a selection of spices, most notably whole vanilla beans. Yes, it tastes like pumpkin pie, but pie made by an Amish farmer with a verdant pumpkin patch.

Allagash Ghoulschip | American wild ale, 6.9% ABV

Ghoulschip is the closest thing the pumpkin beer world has to a “whale”—that is, a rare, highly-sought-after offering that, like Captain Ahab, beer geeks will chase the world over. Made using a mash of Maine pumpkins, toasted pumpkin seeds, and molasses, Ghoulschip is fermented overnight in the brewery’s vaunted outdoor “coolship.” It’s then cellared in oak barrels for up to three years. Clean and tart, backed with a caramel sweetness, it one-ups any trick-or-treat bag.

Timmermans Pumpkin Lambicus | Lambic, 4% ABV

While the four previous American brewers dance around the idea of a pumpkin sour ale, Belgian brewery Timmermans produces a straight pumpkin lambic via spontaneous fermentation. The Lambicus pours a glowing orange color, has an initially hard acid and a fizzy effervescence, but finishes softly with a subtle vegetal bite and brown sugar sweetness lent from the Portuguese sherry barrels in which it’s aged. My main question: Do Belgians even celebrate Halloween?

Elysian Punkuccino | Coffee ale, 6% ABV

Elysian Brewing cares deeply about pumpkin beers. Not only do they make at least twenty varieties (mostly tap-only one-offs), but they host an annual Great Pumpkin Beer Festival in Seattle, strictly for pumpkin beers. Of their bottled offerings, Punkuccino, a pumpkin-based ale mixed with Stumptown cold brew, is the best. (Ironically, it’s their most un-pumpkin pumpkin beer.) The dark rich result sure ain’t for #PSL lovers, but will please coffee nerds far and wide.

Carton Pumpkin Cream Ale | Cream ale, 9% ABV

New Jersey’s Carton Brewing intentionally subverts style and expectations in every brew. In keeping, this canned cream ale eschews all pie spices for roasted pumpkin meat rubbed with orange zest, pink peppercorns, and candied ginger. This is added to their boozier-than-expected cream ale mash resulting in a rich, creamy beer, which, like pumpkin soup, is dry and vegetal in flavor with a hint of heat from the pepper and ginger.

Avery Rumpkin and Avery Pump[KY]n | Rum and bourbon barrel-aged ales, 18% & 15% ABV

Avery Brewing Co. loves alcohol. And though many of their releases soar into double digit ABVs, these Colorado brewers are skilled in maintaining subtlety and complexity. First released in 2010, Rumpkin is a booze bomb of a pumpkin ale, aged in rum barrels and decadent enough to make one 12-ounce bottle enough to share among friends. Four years later, Pump[KY]n, a pumpkin porter aged in bourbon barrels, follows the same dessert-y, high-octane philosophy.

Aaron Goldfarb (@aarongoldfarb) is the author of How to Fail: The Self-Hurt Guide, The Guide for a Single Man, and The Guide for a Single Woman.

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