I have kind of a thing with blood oranges, and every year during those 18-days when they’re available (seriously it feels like it’s that short), I try to stock up as much as possible — including making some kind of blood orange beer. The first was a Chocolate Blood Orange Stout, followed by a hefeweizen, and then an IPA (whose recipe I sadly did not record).
White IPAs (basically a hybrid of a witbier/white ale and an IPA) are all the rage this year in the craft beer world, so I decided to jump on the bandwagon and create a Blood Orange White IPA. I based this on the Northern Brewer Witbier kit but replaced the hops bill with 1oz of Columbus for the full 60 minute boil, followed by 1oz of Cascade, 1oz of Citra, and 1oz of Centennial in the last ten minutes. I used the roasted peels of 6 blood oranges (removing as much white rind as possible), and boiled their pulp in water and added the juices to the wort.
If nothing else, I guarantee that it’ll look a purrty color.
Unfortunately, “Blood Orange White IPA” is kind of a clumsy name — it doesn’t really make sense to have orange AND white in the title, ya know? So I took to Facebook to ask my friends for suggestions, and rounded up my favorites in the poll below. Make your voice heard!…for the beer that goes in my belly (don’t worry, I’m willing to share).
Last night I bottled this Irish Draught Ale, which is the first beer that I’ll complete from a Northern Brewer recipe kit (long story short, Modern Homebrew in Cambridge is horrible, and everyone who works there is like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons only worse). It’s a Smithwick’s-style ale, with some honey added as a cultural throwback. But even the room-temp, flat tasting sample shown above was pretty delicious, so I’m looking forward to it. Lucky for me, I finished it just in time for St. Paddy’s Day!
Coming up soon in the fermenters, I’ve got a Blood Orange White IPA (not sure what to call that color combination yet….), and my first Pilsner (which I’m kind of terrified of). Stay tuned for more!
It was nearing sundown on that late autumn evening, and soon the frost would settle in for the long winter months. Mordecai Willington III was tending to the last of his crops, surveying the remaining gourds that littered his field in a tangled mess of pulp and vine, like a spider’s web in orange, brown, and yellow, speckled with flecks of green. It was the end of the harvest season, and though his yield had been high this year, he wasn’t selling as strongly as he had hoped. Soon the gourds would go to waste, buried beneath the snow along the cold Atlantic coast. Without the money he had hoped to make, his family would be forced to ration their goods until the spring.
Mordecai was gathering the final fresh gourds when a blinding white flashed across the field. It was radiant and burned without pain, as if God Himself…
Over on the Quirk Books blog, I propose a few days for Alternative Oktoberfests, mostly inspired by books, in case you’re one of those weirdos (not like me) who somehow doesn’t enjoy a sixteen-day festival of beer and bratwurst (weird). Check it out: