Funk n’ Brunch at Surly’s Brewer’s Table - November 29, 2015
(Still behind. Off next two weeks save volunteering. Will catch up. I started writing this on the 19th, but a bout of what I think is food poisoning and learning of the death of a friend kept me from it the past couple of days.)
Beer. I like it. It’s one of my first memories, taste or otherwise. I don’t have a lot of memories from when I lived in Arizona as a young child; rose bushes, riding in the back of of a Volkswagen Beetle, getting die-cast cars as little gifts from my Grandma, a mirrored wall, a stack of magazines, and sitting on my Grandpa’s lap taking a sip from his can of crappy American Lager that he added some salt to. I can still remember the sweet maltiness and the saltiness. This was 1980 or 1981.
My dad wasn’t a beer drinker, or much of a drinker at all. Brandy sevens when we were at his father’s cabin during the holidays, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him order a beer. So I didn’t have much chance to take part in the traditional delinquency of a few surreptitiously acquired beers when I was younger. My first beer since that storied sip when I was a mere sapling was provided by one of my Mrs. Fields’ Cookies coworker’s friends. I remember the green bottle of malt water that was allegedly brewed in glass-lined vats in a small town in Pennsylvania. The would be bootlegger and raconteur treated us to stories about his suspicions of what the “33″ meant on the bottle. This was 1994.
Those few experiences of Rolling Rock didn’t do me a lot of service when I joined the service. Since I was already 21 and my tech school roommate was as well, we ended up talking a bit and eventually ended up drinking together on occasion. Enter Killian’s Irish Red, with lime. I remember drinking a lot of these over the next couple of years, even if I’ve thankfully forgot how they must have tasted. This was 1998.
My next evolution in beer drinking took place during a short layover on Mildenhall RAF when I was returning from a six week, which became a six month, stay at Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia. One of my favorite sergeants that was also from Minnesota and stationed at Grand Forks AFB with me arranged for one of his friends to take us up to Cambridge to go drinking. (I was happy to go to Cambridge for the physics history.) It was while walking the streets of this ancient college that we stumbled into a pub and ordered snakebites; a concoction of cider, Guinness, and black currant syrup now infrequently served. Additionally added Newcastle Nut Brown Ale to the list during this same trip. This was 1999.
My next big addition to beer drinking really didn’t happen for nearly a decade. One of my best friends moved back to Minnesota for a period of time while his dad was dealing with the ravages of some health issues. He introduced me to some craft beer, but nothing that I remember with crystal clarity, I recall drinking more wine with him and his then girlfriend, now wife. They’re still great friends that I don’t get to see near often enough. I know I was drinking enough different beers now that I looked for something different usually when I went out. This was in 2009.
2010 is when an event occurred that let me really understand and appreciate beer. I was on a motorcycle trip and was trying to find local stuff or things I’d heard about that I had never seen in Minnesota. I don’t drink and ride, so it was mostly single bottles that I’d grab and take to my hotel and drink, or if there was a bar within walking distance to the hotel I might go out if I wasn’t dead tired. Most of the stuff ended up being what would probably be too sweet and malty for me now. Until I was in Carson City, Nevada. I went in to a gas station after visiting the state’s capitol and saw Stone’s Arrogant Bastard. I’ve always been a gargoyle fan, and the bomber sized bottle with it’s gargoyle enjoying some grog begged for purchase. I felt a little silly asking the attendant if beer was still available for purchase, either because it was late or a Sunday - we can’t buy beer on Sunday in Minnesota, it’s stupid - he looked at me like I was from another planet. He let me know there wasn’t a time when you couldn’t buy beer. I got to my hotel and poured myself a glass, took a sip, and felt like I was punched in the mouth. It was far more bitter than any beer I’d ever had before. I didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Over the next year I finally became acquainted with Surly, the eventual topic of this post. I’ve been a big fan since my first Furious. I’m definitely a fanboy. I volunteer a fair bit with their social charity organization “Surly Gives A Damn.” I like most of their beers. Many have my devotion in their respective styles: Furious is my go to IPA, Darkness my favorite RIS, Todd the Axeman a definitive West Coast IPA. But none holds my heart, palate, and complete dedication to its style like Abrasive, their Imperial IPA - this is coming from someone that goes to Russian River Brewing for Pliny the Younger annually.
Fun fact? I’m not a fan of Double IPA in print it should be a vocalization only. I mean “Imperial India Pale Ale” becomes “Imperial IPA” becomes “IIPA” becomes “Double ‘I’-P-A.” Don’t get me started on DIPA.
It was a year ago today, December 19th, that Surly’s “Destination Brewery” opened after years of maneuvering to get laws passed that would allow breweries to sell their own beer on-sale on premises. I went to their last day at their original brewery’s taproom and wasn’t going to miss the occasion of being at the first day of their new brewery. It was packed. I heard that it was Linda Haug, wife of the head brewer and general badass when it comes to the hospitality industry, that suggested that to get rid of some of the demand for the taps downstairs, that they should do an emergency canning run of beer at the new brewery and sell that upstairs. When Omar, owner and founder, started speaking on the blow horn I was listening close. I heard Abrasive. Five Dollars. Can. Upstairs. I don’t think I teleported upstairs, but I found myself up there as quick as I think somebody my size can humanly move.
Less than an hour after canning, I had an Abrasive in the new Surly Beer Hall.
I didn’t have any food that day. I don’t mean that I didn’t eat at all that day, I mean I didn’t have any of the beer hall’s food. I’ve since, it’s pretty damn good. While the food in the beer hall, and the new food truck that serves the beer garden during the warmer months, are both really good offerings with more hits than misses, my favorite food at the new brewery is upstairs at Brewer’s Table.
I’ve only been to Brewer’s Table a couple times, but enjoyed it immensely when I went - that octopus - and it’s a restaurant I definitely recommend. As often happens, a tweet flitted through my field of view that suggested they were going to be doing a pop-up brunch. Surly. Brewer’s Table. Pop-up. Brunch. I like all of those things. So I made it a point to go. I reached out to Shawn, who I’d dined with previously at Ramen Kazama and Yangtze to see if he was interested in checking it out. He was, so we met up at the brewery prior to the doors opening to check it out.
It would have been great with two more people, but I think we did an okay job of crushing it.
We went with all the pastries. (Shawn took a photo of the spread)
Croissants with Quince Butter: These had a lovely crispy sugar enamel on them, the interior wasn’t as croissant like as I expected, it seemed a little more like a crescent roll than a croissant, but it was still very tasty.
Sweet Butter Rolls (aka Pull-Apart): As a HUGE fan of monkey bread, these hit my sweet spot. Crunchy, chewy, cinnamon, sweet. I’m ashamed to admit how much of this I would eat if allowed unbridled access. It wouldn’t be pretty.
Sea Salt Butterscotch Scone: I’m not sure I’ve mentioned it or not, but I’m not the biggest scone fan. That being said, this was okay. It had good flavor and just enough moisture. Sometimes I think some people dip donuts in coffee for fear they’ve accidentally encountered a scone. A donut shouldn’t need dipping, a scone seems to always beg for it.
Hazelnut Caramel Roll: These had great flavor, were a little dense, and the caramel glaze was packed with sweetness and was pleasantly sticky.
Creme Fraiche Pecan Coffee Cake: This was my winner of the pastries. Great taste, textures, and the right amount of moisture. If brunch ever becomes a permanent fixture at Brewer’s Table, I hope this is on the pastry cart. It would beckon me in.
Brioche with Ginger Cream: This was really good too, nice crumb in the brioche, good flavor and consistency in the ginger cream filing. After the previous week’s experience trying to separate a filled pastry for later sharing and realizing that slicing meant ejection of filling, I had the idea that perforation would probably work better than slicing. So I put away the knife and grabbed a fork, I then proceeded to stab a dotted “tear here” line down the center of the roll. It worked pretty well as you can see below. (Along with the aforementioned implement of its destruction.)
After the pastries we moved on to some savories. A couple more people and we could have tried everything, but we went with things that sounded like originals or original takes on favorite classics.
(Shawn’s photo)
Mac N’ Cheese Stack with Cheddar Cheese, Apple Compote, and Pistachio Cream: Interesting concept. Take macaroni, put it in a pancake, add some extra cheese to get a nice frico, counter the saltiness and savoriness with some sweetness from apples and up the cheese’s nuttiness with a pistachio cream. I think a non-hollow noodle would have been a much better choice for this dish. Because hollow means air, air means insulator, insulation means less heat, means an undercooked center that tastes more like pancake batter than pancake.
(Shawn’s photo)
Biscuits & Gravy with Buttermilk Biscuits, Red-Eye Gravy, Poached Eggs, and Tasso Ham: Some of the best poached eggs I’ve had. The biscuit had a great crunchy exterior, and the red-eye gravy was nice and smokey, the ham added a good salt punch. I’d definitely get this again if brunch were to show up again.
(Shawn’s photo)
Chilaquiles with Fried Egg, Salsa Verde, Smoked Pork, and Frijoles Borrachos: Really good, my favorite of the entrees. I mistook the frijoles borrachos or “drunken beans” for refried beans, but I really enjoyed what they brought to the dish. Chilaquiles is one of those dishes I get everywhere I go when it’s offered, partly because it’s a favorite, partly because I’m curious how the establishment will make it their own. I really like what Jorge and crew did with this one and I’d probably classify it as my favorite in town if it were frequently available. If brunch ever does come back to the Brewer’s Table and this is on the menu, get it.
One of the great things about pop-ups is that they’re an experimentation and a hint at what might come, one of the bad things is that sometimes those ideas aren’t used or they are one time events - might means maybe, maybe can mean no. One of my favorite things about food is being able to recommend a place to go and maybe try something. If somebody then goes and tries it and then lets me know they enjoyed it, or even if they didn’t but they had an experience, I think that’s cool. When it’s a one time thing, an ethereal moment, you’ve only got those that were there to reminisce with, and while that’s great and good, being able to share experiences across time and space seems greater.