Roast Garlic and Onion Jam, With a Twist.

Whilst on one of my cyber-pottering trips – you know the kind of thing, work is a bit slow so you randomly look for projects for the weekend – I thought it would be interesting to go beyond chutneys and try my hand at jams and marmalades. The recipe which caught my imagination most was from the Ambrosia blog, written by Coco, for roast garlic and onion jam. My first thought was that it sounded fantastic – I love caramelized onions and an a big fan of creamy sweetness of roasted garlic, the idea of marrying those flavours with a nice beer was simply too much to resist.

As I am learning with my beer cooking experiments, finding the right beer to enhance the flavours of a recipe is vitally important, which is why it took me some 2 weeks to decide on the beer for this recipe. My first thought was to go for something big and bold, like an imperial stout or strong English ale – the front runners at the time were either Hobgoblin or again using the Primátor 24°. Eventually though I came to the conclusion that something big and bold would probably be quite overpowering, especially given the rather strong flavours already in the recipe.

I fairly quickly dismissed the idea of using ale and set about finding a lager which would do the trick. The beer I settled upon would have to be sweetish with malty notes that would backup the roasted flavour of the garlic rather than compete with it. So Mrs Velkyal and I eventually agreed that it would have to be a polotmávé, or amber lager, and I decided that I wanted to use a Chodovar product – especially as I had a collection of various bottles to use.

My recipe ended up as follows:

• 750g roughly chopped onions
• 2 heads roasted garlic
• 4 dessertspoons brown sugar
• 125 ml Chodovar Skální ležák
• 125 ml water
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• 3 tablespoons apple vinegar
• Olive oil

And here’s what to do with it all

1. Break up the garlic heads, put in an ovenproof dish, drizzle with olive oil and roast for 90 minutes. When the garlic is roasted, squeeze out the soft insides.
   
2. Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a pan, when hot add the onions and cover, stir occasionally until they are softened and translucent – this should take about 20 minutes.
   
3. Add the sugar, stir and replace the lid, stir occasionally until onions are golden, this takes about 20 minutes.
   
4. Add the beer, stir and cover to cook for about 30 minutes.
   
5. When the onions are dark brown add the vinegar, garlic cloves and water.
   
6. Cook uncovered until you have a rich sticky mixture.
   
7. Let the mixture cool before putting in sterilized jars.

This was remarkably easy to make, and wonderfully tasty. There was only one little problem, from about 750g of onions I got about 300g of jam. So next time I make this, probably the weekend after this, I will double or treble the amounts so that I can make several jars. I would particularly recommend enjoying this with a good welsh rarebit, made with the best cheddar cheese you can get your hands on.
And of course having opened a bottle of beer, you just have to finish it while you cook!

A Sabbath Day's Drinking

Some recent arrivals to Prague are Oscar and Joanna. Joanna works with Mrs Velkyal and Oscar is, rather obviously I guess, her husband. For people who have only been in the country a matter of weeks, they have shown a refreshing willingness to get out and about to discover the delights of the Czech Republic. It stands to reason then that they like beer, and I am doing my best to ensure that their Czech beer experience is as good as possible. On their first night in the city Mrs Velkyal and I dragged them off to U Medvídků and insisted they try the excellent Oldgott Barrique.

As Mrs Velkyal and I were headed for the shops to stock up, we got a message from Joanna and Oscar asking what we were up to and would we fancy going for a stroll. Naturally we arranged to meet up and enjoy the sunshine together. Meeting up in the centre of the city, we walked down Národní, across the bridge into Malá Strána and got the funicular railway up the hill. After about an hour or so of walking it was suggested that we stop for a rest and a “coffee” – Velkyal slang for finding the nearest bar for a beer. At the time we were stood under the imposing edifice of Strahov Monastery – one of my favourite buildings in Prague, and a place I have been fortunate enough see with one of the priests and get up close and personal with the assorted treasures they have in there. Having read last week that the brewpub there currently had their Autumn Dark Special on tap, I suggested we give it a visit.

The sun was shining there was a nice autumnal chill in the air, despite this and the stiff breeze, we ended up sitting outside in the courtyard so the girls could enjoy the sun. Looking at the menu I noticed that as well as their own beers, the restaurant also had a selection of Budvar and Bernard beers available, however I was only here to try their own stuff, and in particular I wanted the Autumn Dark Special. Joanna and I plumped for the seasonal special, while Oscar and Mrs Velkyal went for the year round amber lager.


Being something of a tourist trap, the beers are a touch on the expensive side at 60kč for 0.4l, however by the time I had tried everything on draught I didn’t mind paying the extra. When the Autumn Dark Special arrived it was very dark, like a deep fire ruby, which glows when held up to the light, on top of this sat a fluffy beige head. The nose was very sweet and malty, with caramel notes – like fruit slowly fried in butter. In the mouth it is remarkably smooth and sweet – reminiscent of a 80/- Scottish ale, with flashes of coffee and cocoa on the tongue. The only problem that I have with beers like this is not drinking gallon after gallon.


While I was savouring the autumn special, Mrs Velkyal had gone for the standard amber lager on offer. Naturally in the interests of science, we each had a taste of the other. I love the dark orange colour of this beer and the fantastic white head, I can’t just say that an amber lager looks like amber now can I? This was very hoppy in the nose, with subtle clove notes which put me in mind of the Kocour IPA we enjoyed last week. Despite being a rather bitter beer this was surprisingly smooth and easy to drink, the bitterness is only just trumped by the sweetness, but the combination is like drinking marmalade, especially given the wonderful fruitiness of the beer.

While the rest of the gang were pigging out on French fries, I decided to have a bash at the house weizen. I have had this before at Zlý Časy and enjoyed it, but this was a different kettle of fish entirely. It poured much darker than I had previous had it and had a rocky white head. I must admit that I find wheat beers somewhat difficult to describe at the moment, although there were very noticeable citrus flavours and the crisp refreshing bite I have come to appreciate in Bavarian and Bohemian style wheats. This was just a lovely beer to drink, and if I had closed my eyes ignoring the cold I could easily imagine myself enjoying glass after glass of this in the heat of a South Carolinian summer.

A few weeks ago on Beer Culture, Evan noted that there is a pub up in the Kobylisy area of the city with the Strahov beers at lower prices than at the monastery itself. Having enjoyed them in their natural environment, I am looking forward to hunting out this place and giving my wallet some respite.

I guess this picture below appeals to both the drinker and the technical writer in me!

Bridge to Nowhere

I spent about 5 hours on Saturday just walking around various parts of Prague. I am lucky in many ways in that I live right in the heart of the city, just a five minute walk from Vaclávské Náměstí, so I get to indulge my love of bumbling with a camera almost every weekend. Our intention was just to stroll around and take some pictures of random bits of pieces, after an hour or so of which we stumbled upon the new brewpub Pražský most na Valšů and being in need of a sit down, we ventured in to try their beer. As you can see from the picture at the head of this article, they also sell a couple of other brewers’ beer, in this case Malý Rohozec and Březňák. On the door was a note saying that they had special prices for their own beer, 30kč for a half litre and 22kč for a 0.3l - their normal prices are 45kč and 30kč respectively.

We decided to try out the svetlý ležák first, myself with a full half litre and Mrs Velkyal with a little one. Before describing the beer I want to say that I loved the décor of the place, the chairs are solid, and heavy, wood, and the lampshades look like a stylized version of the Charles Bridge, with a statue on the top. In short, the interior is fantastic. I held high hopes for the beer.

When eventually the beer came, the place was virtually empty yet the service was tardy, it was a light honey colour with a nice rocky head, which stayed for the duration of the drink. There were distinct smells of clove and flowers when I shoved my nose into the glass, Mrs Velkyal commented that it smelt metallic. When actually drinking the beer, the first taste was that of lemon, and a bitterness which caught the back of the throat, lingering through the aftertaste. The dominant taste though was distinctly tinny and it has a very slight body. While it is not a bad beer it is definitely not up there with the best microbrew lagers that the Czech Republic has to offer, though it is streets ahead of megaswill such as Gambrinus. In many ways it is the BBC Radio 2 of Czech beer, nothing offensive, but nothing memorable either.

I had noticed on the bar a bottle of dark lager, so I assumed that the second tap they had would be their own tmávé, however on asking it turned out to be the Rohozec Skalák dark lager, so I ordered a half litre of that, as Mrs Velkyal was still nursing her little one. When it arrived, again with the tardy service requiring that I went to the bar to order, it was a fabulous dark ruby with a tan head. On the nose there was again a touch of tinniness, though not as pronounced as with the light lager, and hints of sweet caramel. The caramel in the nose was reinforced with a nice toffee sweetness which also had the faintest trace of coffee. This beer has a nice body and is clean in the mouth, making it a nice easy dark lager to drink.

When I went to pay I decided to pick up a bottle of the house dark lager to try when we eventually made it home, at 35kč for a bottle of beer I was hoping for something really good.

Mrs Velkyal and I continued our wanderings, going up to the Vinohrady area of Prague following up a tip from Pivní Filosof that there is a shop selling Chodovar beers – one of my favourites in the Czech Republic. Sure enough we found the shop, which also sells a good selection of whiskies, rums, tequilas, wines from around the world and tucked on a corner of the sales counter were bottles of Chodovar 13° lager, their excellent tmávé and their wonderful skální ležák. So we bought a couple of bottles of Argentine malbec, another passion that Pivní Filosof and I share, and two bottles each of the 13° and skální ležák, with that done we headed home.

Once home I decided to pop open the dark lager from Pražský most na Valšů and complete my tasting. One of my bad habits is reading beer labels, and I must admit that reading the ingredient list for this one made me a touch nervous – why would a beer need ascorbic acid in it? For a dark beer it is rather light in colour, and the somewhat minimal head soon disappeared. The smell of this beer was overwhelmingly detergent, that sounds as disgusting as it smelt – Mrs Velkyal suggested that it was the glass, but I always wash, rinse and dry my beer glasses thoroughly. The beer itself tasted like burnt toast and had very little body and was syrupy and soapy, in keeping with the light lager there was again a metallic taste, except this time it was more noticeable and was clearly copper. It was so bad that I did something I have never done before, after about 5 sips of the beer I gave up and poured it down the sink – it was quite simply the worst beer I have had in the Czech Republic, yes even worse than Klášter. Really the only good thing about the beer was the label.

I can honestly say that Pražský most na Valšů will not become a regular haunt. The light lager is ok, but not worth paying 30kč for, the Rohozec is more expensive and while a decent pint, I can buy a bottle for less at Pivovarský klub. Plus I have a problem with a brewpub selling another brewer’s wares, it suggests a lack of confidence in their own product, and in the case of their dark lager, that lack is well placed.

Beer Hero of the Week

I haven't written a story about the fact that Pivovarský dům is currently offering a very nice rye ale, served from a hand pump - one of only two in the Czech Republic I believe.

However, just for the sheer pleasure I got from seeing a hand pump - they really are things of beauty, shame there wasn't a clip on the front, but I'll let that slide - and then watching as the barmanka pumped out a very nice beer, which Mrs Velkyal also thoroughly enjoyed, is enough for me to award my Beer Hero of the Week to:

Pivovarský dům.

Un-craiced

Sometimes the mood simply isn’t there. The pub is full, there is a good well-made beer in front of you (one likes to assume these things), but something is missing. Perhaps it is the deflation that comes from meeting your deadlines a week in advance, perhaps it is simply being there by yourself, but something is missing. Yes its great to see your favourite bar staff in your favourite pub, but even they notice that something is missing. Perhaps that missing something is the elusive craic, the Gemütlichkeit, the spirit of Gambrinus has upped and left. That pretty much describes last night for me.

Chatting with Ambroz “the barman” on Facebook the other day, he mentioned that they hadn’t seen me in PK for a while, which was true. Mrs Velkyal was having a night of being crafty at her "Stitch n Bitch", for the best part of the last year she has been hand sewing a quilt of which she is rightly proud, so I decided I would pop along and prop up the bar for a while. I arrived to discover that the entire downstairs area was reserved for a function of one kind or another – PK is excellent for functions of about 50 – 70 people, it was where Mrs Velkyal and I had our reception – and the upstairs was pretty full too, but I pulled up a chair at a table and ordered a beer, I think the staff may have been shocked that I only had small ones last night.

The first beer I had was from the small town of Strakonice in southern Bohemia, Velkopřevor Svetlý Speciál, a 14° lager. It can be quite difficult finding Strakonice beers in Prague, which is a shame really as I would like to firm up my positive view of their 10° lager, Nektár, without having to bother going to Strakonice itself, as there is very little there unless you are going at the same time as the International Bagpipe Festival. The beer in front of me was a dark golden colour, bordering on amber with a white head, which disappeared quite quickly. It has a nice floral nose, with grassy and herbal elements chucked into the mix, at one point I thought I noticed the merest hint of banana. I found it difficult to really nail down a flavour, other than the fact that it is quite bitter and alcoholic, and although there are sweet undertones, they are not enough to really balance out the beer. It almost reminded me of Tesco Value marmalade, bitter oranges with sugar chucked on top. Overall it was a disappointing, simply a stronger version of their 12° Dudák, which is nothing special.

It took me a while to decide what to try next, and eventually I plumped for the 13° polotmavé 7 Kuli from Pivovar Benešov, home of the Ferdinand ranges of beers. I have heard many good things about this beer from various people, when it arrived on the table I was encouraged, a beautiful ruby colour with a distinctly creamy head. Sticking my nose in the glass and there were traces of liquorice, pepper and even a touch of basil – three of my favourite smells on the planet. Thus it was with expectation that I took my first mouthful, and sure enough it was malty and quite sweet. However, I found the sweetness to be rather syrupy, and the beer in general to be uninspiring, perhaps I was unconsciously comparing it with the Purkmistr polotmavé which I thoroughly enjoyed.

At this point I decided that the best course of action was to bail out. I had arranged to meet a friend, so rather than subject him to me in a bit of a grump I cancelled and wandered off home to a bottle of Hobgoblin and a mix on my computer of Wolfstone, Cahornega, Anuna, The Chieftains and Carlos Núñez. So the night turned out to be rather mellow in the end.

Early Morning Disaster

When I was at secondary school, my favourite subjects were German and Chemistry - which I thought might possibly lead to a life as a mad scientist. However when the time came to choose what to study at college, in my wisdom I chose theology and was fully intent on becoming a minister, or priest, or whatever you want to call them. Most people who discover that I studied for the priesthood are somewhat taken aback and usually reply "you?".

I think that my love of mixing things around is part of the reason why I love cooking and experimenting with using beer in food. As I wrote on Monday, at the weekend I attempted to make beer toffee, I have since learned that I fact succeeded in making a beer caramel sauce, which would be great stirred into cream and frozen to make beer ice cream, or possibly to use it as an alternative sweetener in desserts such as apple crumble - which Mrs Velkyal makes very very well.

The caramel had been sitting in the fridge until last night when I decided to put it in a jar, mainly because it had been in our main roasting tin and I have plans for this weekend - involving ribs hopefully. Over the last few days more and more of the sticky goo had started to crystalize, and on opening the fridge this morning the goo in the jar had set solid, but had a strange head on the top - which looked very much like a normal beer head.

Then disaster struck, I dropped the jar. Rather than smashing and sending a sticky mess all over the kitchen floor, which Mrs Velkyal would have loved at quarter past six in the morning, the jar cracked then shattered but the goo stayed intact. The reason it was solid was not my culinary genius in making toffee but the fact that my fridge is overactive and had almost frozen it solid. I still think that beer toffee is a viable idea, and one I will continue to experiment with, but for the time being it is back to the drawing board and on with other projects.

On a happier note - the chilli doppelbock chutney is fantastic!

A Little of Wheat You Fancy

Wandering around my local Billa supermarket last night trying to decide what to cook for dinner – if anyone is interested we ended up having macaroni cheese, with chunks of smoked bacon through it – I thought it would be interesting to do a taste tasting of the wheat beers they had available. Thus I got home with all the ingredients necessary for a tri-nations wheat beer face off.

In the Czech corner was Primátor Weizenbier, representing the mighty Germany was Erdinger and squaring up against these behemoths of the brewing scene was Austria’s Edelweiss, all three of which are hefeweizens and ranged in price from $1 to $1.50 at current exchange rates.

First up was the Primátor Weizenbier, which I have had a few times at Pivovarský Klub where it is practically the house wheat beer. I have to admit that every time I have had it at PK I have been left decidedly underwhelmed, however one of my friends told me that it is far better from the bottle. My word was she right, from the bottle this is a far superior beer. It pours a wonderful marmalade orange with a slightly ivory head which disappeared rather quickly – a fact I am putting down to not owning a proper wheat beer glass and so drinking it from my Purkmistr glass. Being a hefewiezen it is naturally cloudy, which is actually something I like in a beer, being a fan of kvasnicové beers. The beer smells like oranges as well, ripe Seville oranges promising a burst of bitterness followed by a delicate sweetness, with floral hints from the Saaz hops. In the mouth this beer is an absolute delight, tart, refreshing, with crisp bitterness, which doesn’t overwhelm the palate, and again the motif of a thick cut orange marmalade. There is a nice balance of medium sweetness with medium bitterness.

Next up came the German contender, Erdinger. I must admit to having a soft spot for Erdinger products, recently Pivovarský Klub had their Dunkelweizen on tap and I relished every drop of the several pints I had. The hefeweizen though is a lighter beer than the Primátor, despite being slightly stronger in terms of ABV, 5.3% to 5%. It pours a pale orange, and like the Primátor there is a touch of ivory in the head, which once again disappeared very quickly, there were also a lot of bubbles in the beer. The nose of the Erdinger was decidedly earthy, with slight spicy notes. I found that the extra alcohol content was evident in the Erdinger and it left a bitter aftertaste in the back of the throat. To my mind has about the same amount of bitterness as the Primátor but just a notch less sweetness.

Many times when I have wandered through Billa I have looked at the bottles of Edelweiss Weissbier and thought of my dad, he underwent Alpine mountain training back in the 1960s when stationed in West Germany and earned an Edelweiss, the insignia of German alpine troops. I really had no idea what to expect from this beer – I know very little about Austrian beers and despite their proximity to the Czech Republic very few Austrian products make it up the E65/50 from Vienna to Prague. I really didn’t hold out much hope for this beer when it poured a similar pale orange to the Erdinger, but at least the head held better and was whiter than the other two. Then I stuck my nose into the glass. My head near exploded with the complexity of smells in the glass, the first thing that hits is spiced oranges with hints of freshly mown grass in the background, but there was something there which took me an age to identify. Touches of pepper and even lemon came to the fore, but still that smell eluded me, so I tasted the beer, and the complexity of the nose is reflected in a very complex taste sensation. Eventually I hit on the predominant smell and flavour and almost jumped for joy, it was ginger, lots of ginger – but this was like freshly cut root ginger, rather than the sweetened powder. The sweetness of the bitter was rather low, but it was not bitter at all, making it a very refreshing beer for sipping, I don’t think the complexity of flavours would allow it to be a session beer.

Of the three beers I think the Primátor is the one I would buy most often to sit with and enjoy whilst watching DVDs, however the Edelweiss is I think the best tasting of the three, and most certainly the most enjoyable to deconstruct and identify all the smells and tastes.

There was once a time when I wouldn’t drink wheat beers at all, but a friend of mine opened my eyes by insisting that I try a Schöfferhofer. Of the wheat beers that I have tried and liked they have tended to be in the mould of Bavarian Weizens, for some reason I find the Belgian wheats very difficult to appreciate, but given that only 18 months ago I would never have touched wheat beer at all, progress is being made.