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Fathers and sons, Kolsches and Imperial IPAs.

Beers That Defy Description

Enjoying a beer is easy. Describing exactly why you enjoy it? Not so much. Sure, it’s good, and it’s bubbly, and it’s a pleasant color. But what does it taste like?

Those stuffy wine reviews, with their “oaky” and “jammy” and “gamey,” show just how ridiculous descriptions of potent potables can get. Reviews for cigars (“earthy,” “toasty”) and scotch (“tastes like an old leather boot”) aren’t much better.

The guys at the brewery admit that, even as professionals, it’s tough coming up with meaningful descriptions for the beers. So we asked the good, creative folks in the tasting room to pitch in on this front. There are no wrong answers, they were told. Just have a sip, and spit out the first descriptive words that come to mind.

It’s a cloudless Friday and the mood in the Captain Lawrence tasting room is, as usual, upbeat. There’s a hulking man in a kilt, a handsome black lab, and some sunburned Yankee fans riding high after an Opening Day shutout at the Stadium. The Allman Brothers are on the stereo. There’s Captain’s Kolsch and Imperial IPA and Liquid Gold, among others, on tap. Vinnie Crodelle and Kurt Gabel are fresh off a day’s work for the Department of Environmental Protection in Valhalla. Crodelle clearly has a knack for slinging it around, describing his Freshchester Pale Ale as an “austere and sinister explosion,” leading to a feeling of “general well being.”

Gabel laughs—he too is experiencing the general well being—before toning it down a few notches. His Kolsch is “crisp–like a nice fall afternoon.”

Nearby, Sophia Ressler of White Plains sounds as though she’s auditioning for a DEP job with Vinnie and Kurt, tapping an array of flora and fauna for adjectives. Her Liquid Gold is “piney and citrusy,” with a “definite hops taste.” (Not bad—this very site goes environmental as well in describing the Gold: “Aromas of orange, spice, and green grass.”)

To Ressler, the Liquid Gold–a mix of German malts and American hops–is a “spring walk in the woods.”

Speaking of heady German-American mixes, Zoltan Gall says the Captain’s Kolsch is the only American beer he’ll drink. (Before settling in Pleasantville, Gall lived in Hungary, Cologne and Transylvania. “At midnight, my fangs start to come out,” he says of his time in the latter.) A recently retired research scientist (“Not beer,” he laments), Gall quaffs his beloved Kolsch and ruminates.

“It has body,” the stone-faced sipper says. “It is as bitter as I like it. Very refreshing. A clean aftertaste that cleanses your palate.”

His son, an aspiring lawyer named Ian Sebastian, shakes his head and smiles. “The fact that he likes an American beer, period,” says Ian. “It’s surprising.”

Ian samples an Imperial IPA (“Intense,” he says. The Captain Lawrence site says “citrus and pine,” with “some hoppy bitterness.”) His law school pal Ryan Nolan–no relation to Nolan Ryan, if you’re scoring at home–has just walked in, and Ian says Ryan is as savvy a beer connoisseur as one might hope to meet.

Yet pressed for some winning adjectives to describe his Liquid Gold, Ryan, visiting from Rye, fairly freezes up.

Moments later, he paints a picture like his inverted namesake painting the outside corner of the plate. “Yeasty, a little floral, a little tingly,” he says. “Some spice on the back of the throat.”

At another barrel, Michelle Tuzzio and Art Bartosch, easily the best dressed couple in the tasting room, enjoy their glasses of Kolsch. Michelle, of West Milford, New Jersey, offers up “freshness.” Art, from Yorktown, does her one…two…three… better. “The beginning of the weekend, how better to start off than with a fresh, cold tantalizing beer that stimulates the palate and gets the endorphins rocking and rolling. Gears you up for the weekend, makes you look forward to the next glass.”

Michelle laughs. Art catches his breath.

OK, maybe the Kolsch-loving Transylvanian had it right.

“A great beer, you love it, you enjoy it,” says Zoltan. “You don’t describe it.”

Captain Lawrence’s Elmsford tasting room is open Tuesday through Friday (retail 2-7 p.m., and samples 4-7 p.m.); and Saturdays, with retail and samples 12-6 p.m., and brewery tours at 1, 2 and 3 p.m. For the record, Captain Lawrence pays me for this, partially in beer.

Barley and the Chocolate Factory

The beauty of the brewery tour, whether it’s Guinness in Dublin or Heineken in Amsterdam, or Captain Lawrence right here in Westchester, is that it’s a day at the brewery–plus an education. You walk out not only having sampled some of the freshest beer you’ll ever taste, but you’ve nourished your intellectual curiosity as well.

It is, in modern business parlance, a win-win.

And so I embarked on my first guided tour of the Captain Lawrence brewery, with a special wingman in tow. Every time I visit the place, with its silos and tubes and mouth-watering smell all around, I come back to reading about Willy Wonka’s beloved chocolate facility as a kid. And since my six year old son also adores Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I brought the boy along.

Our tour guide John walks about 20 of us through the brewery’s modest beginnings (owner Scott Vaccaro, as a teen, brewing out of his parents’ home on, yes, Captain Lawrence Drive in Lewisboro), to the 8,000 barrels (a barrel equals two kegs) brewed last year, and the 10-12,000 that are on pace to roll out of the Elmsford digs for 2012.

My son enjoyed hearing about the malt being pumped in from the giant silo out front, and the hops mixed in, to create “the beginnings of beer,” as John put it. He enjoyed touching, smelling and tasting, samples of hops, staring at the silver skyline of brewing silos, hearing about the fermenting process.

But, let’s face it—the kid is 6, and it’s beer, not chocolate. Almost as if sensing my son’s flagging interest, John pointed to a hose spitting bubbles into a bucket. “The yeasts are living organisms,” he said. “They eat the sugar, and fart out CO2.”

Living organisms! Farts! The boy’s eyes got wide. He grinned. He was all in.

John then walked us over to the experimental brewhouse; if that has a sibling over in Wonka World, it would be the Inventing Room, where stood a “mountain of gleaming metal that towered high above the children and their parents,” with “hundreds and hundreds of thin glass tubes” hanging over a giant tub—all in the service of creating the next crazy confection.

The Inventing Room spawned the famous chewing gum meal that did in poor Violet Beauregarde. For its part, the experimental brewhouse will soon start producing some creative brews—some of which may work their way into the regular lineup in the tasting room.

“It’s whatever our imaginations come up with,” said John, as if channeling Gene Wilder in the ’71 film.

From there, it was on to the barrel aging station, where beers are stashed in wine, rum and bourbon barrels, among other infused vats, for up to a year. Then, finally, the kegging line.

My son tugged at my pant leg.

“What’s a keg?” he whispered. A fine mist coated my eyes; if only I could preserve him at 6.

The kegs represent the end of the line for a newborn beer, and the last stop of the tour as well.

We traded notes with our fellow tourists. Jason and Suzi Tipa live to taste stellar beer. Both sported Guinness shirts and were quick to note that their last name is but one letter different from Double Imperial Pale Ale’s initials. One letter!

What did they learn? “I’d probably take a job here if I could,” said Jason with a wide smile.

Nada Tosto, having visited just about every brewery on Long Island, made the trip from Patchogue with her friends. She appreciated the Captain’s creative tendencies. “They try new things,” she said. “They have the standards that people love, but they still try seasonals and other out of the box things. You don’t see a lot of other breweries trying to be inventive.”

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory of course ended with a glass elevator, so it was fitting that the tour party made its way to the tasting room, to elevate glasses of Liquid Gold, Imperial Pale Ale, Ginger Man, Smoked Porter.

That was all boring grown-up stuff for my son, who simply wanted some chocolate.

Thankfully, a sweets-bearing bunny was due to arrive in a matter of hours.

Captain Lawrence is open Tuesday through Friday (retail 2-7 p.m., and samples 4-7 p.m.); and Saturdays, with retail and samples 12-6 p.m., and brewery tours at 1, 2 and 3 p.m.

The author is paid by Captain Lawrence, partially in beer, for “Notes From the Tasting Room.”