Hannibal Meta: Private Reserve, or, Hannibal Lecter's Beer
Sometimes the stars are aligned,
the Three Sisters are kind,
and things I love are intertwined.
In other words, my darling dear:
Hannibal Lecter brews beer.
In episode 1.07 of Hannibal, entitled "Sorbet", Dr. Hannibal Lecter cracks open a home brew for Dr. Alanna Bloom. He tells her it was brewed in a wine barrel for two years. Alanna correctly identifies the wine as a cabernet sauvignon. It would be the perfect mating dance of smirking psychiatrists, except for, y'know, the whole cannibal thing. Alanna is hanging out with the world's foremost connoisseur of human flesh, in his kitchen, making dinner with him. And she doesn't know a thing.
But who cares about that when there's beer?
It's canon that almost everything Hannibal cooks "is people". Even his tomato soup contains plasma separated from blood by centrifuge (ostensibly from a pig, but, well, um...). This of course begs the question, What About The Beer?
Many people support what I call the Plasma Theory.
Let's take a good look at that from the perspective of a beer snob geek connoisseur. Which would be me.
Even the smallest homebrew recipe calls for at least a five-gallon batch. To use blood plasma, Hannibal would have to dilute the plasma with water considerably, and then boil it with many other ingredients, making something like a soup. Considering the ratio of plasma to other ingredients, there is almost no point in bothering with the plasma except on principle. Why wouldn't he use a higher proportion of plasma? Because the beer would have the mouthfeel of sticky syrup and taste like ass (metaphorically, not literally. Isn't it fun to be in a fandom that has to make a distinction?). We know that Hannibal would never serve anything less than exquisite. Half his fun is feeding people to people, so it's important that his guests adore the food and ask for more.
Whatever the answer to that vital question of the Plasma Theory may be, let's set it aside and move on to the more important subject: What style of beer is Hannibal brewing, and what (if not ass) does it taste like?
Hannibal says his beer was brewed two years in a wine barrel. I'm sure what he meant to say was that his beer was aged for two years in the barrel -- although I wouldn't mention that slip-up to his face! For the brewing and fermenting process, which takes from two to five weeks, I'm positive that he used copper and glass, because it's nothing but the best for our good doctor. Only then would he transfer the beer to the barrels for aging.
Can beer be aged at all? Shouldn't it be drunk fresh? The answer to both of these is, it depends on the style of beer. In short: the darker and more malty the beer, the better it is for the cellar. It's also better with a high alcohol content. (Isn't everything?) For example, barleywine is brewed specifically for aging, as you can tell by the "wine" part of its name. Well-brewed barleywine is as complex as a good red wine. It pours as richly as stout, and has a mouthfeel as smooth and round as mead. But I can't imagine that Hannibal would have passed up a chance to say "barleywine," so we know he didn't brew that.
In fact, all Hannibal said was that he brewed "beer". Usually, when Hannibal serves up a culinary masterpiece, he names it with intimate detail. I can't see him passing up a chance to talk about "Belgian-style dark ale" or "dry-hopped with domestic Fuggle", especially in the presence of someone who identifies as a beer expert.
I blame the Show, which does meticulous research on its food and wine but fell down on the job about the ale. Ale!Fail!
The only clues we have come from what we see in the glass. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how Will Graham reconstructs his crime scenes. Does that make me a beer empath? Is my identity going to crumble into a magical brew of hops and malt? Will what's left of my humanity be consumed by the very model of a modern brilliant cannibal? Is that such a bad way to go? Every part of me would be honored!
*cough* ...um, I digress.
We start, as does every beer (or wine) tasting, with the pour.
Look at that magnificent pour. This is a pour by a man who respects beer. You don't pour a beer straight down into a glass unless you want a glass full of foam and no liquid. You start with the glass tilted at a slight angle and pour carefully down the side. That allows the liquid to pour without getting foamy. When the glass is about two-thirds to three-quarters full, you straighten the glass and finish the pour directly into the center so you form a full head without ruining the beer or slopping it over the top.
(Speaking of the glass, we'll talk more about that glass later. It is seriously Ale!Fail! but you won't understand why until we finish analyzing the beer.)
The next thing we consider is the character of the head itself.
(By the way, all those "head" jokes you're currently thinking? Old news. Trust me, we beer snobs have heard them all, and you're about to get a whole slew of double-entendre, so you might as well snicker now and let it go.)
Now that's what I call some great head. Creamy but not thick. (See? See?) Small bubbles rise through the foam to form a lacy edge at the top, and if you look closely as Alana tilts the glass you can see a tiny bit of lace left behind.
("Holy hell, Spider," I hear you say (voices in my head!), "have you been enlarging the screen shots hugely and peering at them intently for about half an hour?" WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT? *Spider avoids eye contact*)
Then, the body and color. In the second of the two shots above, most of the glass is obscured by Alana's hand, but at the bottom of the glass there's enough light to examine the color of the beer if you enlarge the screen shot hugely and peer at it intently for about half an hour. We see that it is clear rather than opaque, although possibly a bit hazy. What color I get (with caveats for color irregularities of my laptop screen) could best be described as iced black coffee with a slight shading toward ruby.
Now, let's use our imaginations and experiences to put together the head and body (talk about reconstructing one of Will's crime scenes!).
Imagine a pint of Guinness stout. What do you see? What is the design? A deep, opaque coffee-chocolate color with a characteristic creamy head thick enough to eat with a spoon. Hannibal's beer looks nothing like that, so we know it isn't a stout or a porter.
Now imagine what people usually think of as "beer", such as Stella Artois or Pilsner Urquell. Okay okay, imagine Fosters or Molson if you'd rather. (Please don't offend my sensibilities by imagining Budweiser or Miller; my delicate nature couldn't stand the horror and I might have to kill you.) What is the design? Clear, light color ranging from pale gold to straw. It looks crisp and fizzy in the glass. The head is loose and bubby, and may not leave much lace behind. Hannibal's beer looks nothing like that, so we know it's not a lager or pilsner.
It also looks nothing like the rich gold of an IPA, the pale haziness of a weissbier, or the coppery red of an English pale ale such as Bass.
To make a long story short, what we have here is a dark ale. If the touch of cloudiness I see is actually there, that's spent yeast and will settle as sediment to the bottom of the bottle or glass. This is a major piece of evidence that Hannibal's beer is indeed aged in the cask. Well done, Show! What's more, the style of beer most often aged in wine barrels is the very Belgian-style dark ale I mentioned at the beginning of this post. The answer was in front of you all along! MBWAHAHAHA!
*cough* Let's continue.
Belgian ales are considered to be the pinnacle of the brewer's art. (Yes, even beyond German styles.) Those that were not home-brewed for personal or local consumption were traditionally brewed by monks; some still are and are called Trappist ales. Through the centuries, thanks to the religious principle that all work is worship and should be created to praise God, Belgian ales have become refined, complex, diverse in style and utterly magnificent. You could almost call them spiritual. If that's not the perfect beer for Hannibal Lecter, I don't know what is.
Having settled that, let's talk ingredients.
Most likely, Hannibal imports his yeast from Belgium. Considering his canon background as a World War II orphan, I would not be surprised if he uses Bastogne or Ardennes yeast just for the irony.
As for hops, I simply can not imagine he'd use American hops, which have been bred to be aggressively bitter. You could almost call them "rude". (LOL) On the other hand, Belgian beers are traditionally brewed with what are called "noble hops". What that means is, just as bordeaux wine has to come from Bordeaux and champagne has to come from Champagne, in order to be called "noble hops", the hops must be grown in specific regions of Germany from specific cultivars of the plant. Without going into detail about the characteristics of noble hops (although I could! And if I include other types of hops, I could go on for hours!), I posit that Hannibal uses primarily Tettnang, perhaps with a touch of Spalt. You'll just have to trust me on that one.
Finally, we come to malts. I suppose he could import them too, but I prefer to imagine that he uses domestic organic barley and has sourced an artisan maltster who will prepare the grain according to Hannibal's personal recipe and meticulous standards. Because that is just so Hannibal.
BUT WAIT. We still haven't talked about that glass, which is utter and complete Ale!Fail!
Look at that glass! Just look at it! That is a pilsner glass! You never, ever serve a Belgian ale in a pilsner glass! Shame on you, Show! Do you think Hannibal would serve red wine in a champagne flute? Do you think Hannibal would have less than a full set of appropriate glassware for his home-brewed masterpiece? I THINK NOT.
THIS is how to serve fine Belgian ale. You'll note that it's almost like a brandy snifter, except where the rim flares out. The flare supports and presents the head of the beer to its best advantage, just as a runway model presents a designer gown. The round belly and sloped neck function just as a snifter does, to concentrate taste and aroma. In fact, a large brandy snifter is a good substitute if you don't have a tulip glass. Even if by some stretch of the imagination he does not possess appropriate tulip glassware, Hannibal Lecter not owning a brandy snifter is inconceivable.
Belgian ales can also be served in a chalice.
Personally, I'm not fond of this style. I find it too thick and clumsy. Therefore, I unilaterally declare that our good doctor shares my opinion. If needed, the proper substitute for a chalice is an oversized red wine glass. Again, if Hannibal doesn't own a set of those, I'll eat my own foot. Preferably braised with beans like a ham hock. Some mustard greens on the side, please, as I don't care for collards.
In conclusion, I present my findings to you, the Hannibal fandom, as fanon to be used as you please when creating fanworks in which Hannibal brews beer. Also, I strongly suggest to you, Bryan Fuller, that next season your fine and talented crew do as detailed research on the beer in your show as on the food and wine.
As the world's greatest (and only) beer empath, I hereby pronounce this case closed.
I don't know about you, but I could use a beer.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/560151.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.
the Three Sisters are kind,
and things I love are intertwined.
In other words, my darling dear:
Hannibal Lecter brews beer.
In episode 1.07 of Hannibal, entitled "Sorbet", Dr. Hannibal Lecter cracks open a home brew for Dr. Alanna Bloom. He tells her it was brewed in a wine barrel for two years. Alanna correctly identifies the wine as a cabernet sauvignon. It would be the perfect mating dance of smirking psychiatrists, except for, y'know, the whole cannibal thing. Alanna is hanging out with the world's foremost connoisseur of human flesh, in his kitchen, making dinner with him. And she doesn't know a thing.
But who cares about that when there's beer?
It's canon that almost everything Hannibal cooks "is people". Even his tomato soup contains plasma separated from blood by centrifuge (ostensibly from a pig, but, well, um...). This of course begs the question, What About The Beer?
Many people support what I call the Plasma Theory.
Let's take a good look at that from the perspective of a beer snob geek connoisseur. Which would be me.
Even the smallest homebrew recipe calls for at least a five-gallon batch. To use blood plasma, Hannibal would have to dilute the plasma with water considerably, and then boil it with many other ingredients, making something like a soup. Considering the ratio of plasma to other ingredients, there is almost no point in bothering with the plasma except on principle. Why wouldn't he use a higher proportion of plasma? Because the beer would have the mouthfeel of sticky syrup and taste like ass (metaphorically, not literally. Isn't it fun to be in a fandom that has to make a distinction?). We know that Hannibal would never serve anything less than exquisite. Half his fun is feeding people to people, so it's important that his guests adore the food and ask for more.
Whatever the answer to that vital question of the Plasma Theory may be, let's set it aside and move on to the more important subject: What style of beer is Hannibal brewing, and what (if not ass) does it taste like?
Hannibal says his beer was brewed two years in a wine barrel. I'm sure what he meant to say was that his beer was aged for two years in the barrel -- although I wouldn't mention that slip-up to his face! For the brewing and fermenting process, which takes from two to five weeks, I'm positive that he used copper and glass, because it's nothing but the best for our good doctor. Only then would he transfer the beer to the barrels for aging.
Can beer be aged at all? Shouldn't it be drunk fresh? The answer to both of these is, it depends on the style of beer. In short: the darker and more malty the beer, the better it is for the cellar. It's also better with a high alcohol content. (Isn't everything?) For example, barleywine is brewed specifically for aging, as you can tell by the "wine" part of its name. Well-brewed barleywine is as complex as a good red wine. It pours as richly as stout, and has a mouthfeel as smooth and round as mead. But I can't imagine that Hannibal would have passed up a chance to say "barleywine," so we know he didn't brew that.
In fact, all Hannibal said was that he brewed "beer". Usually, when Hannibal serves up a culinary masterpiece, he names it with intimate detail. I can't see him passing up a chance to talk about "Belgian-style dark ale" or "dry-hopped with domestic Fuggle", especially in the presence of someone who identifies as a beer expert.
I blame the Show, which does meticulous research on its food and wine but fell down on the job about the ale. Ale!Fail!
The only clues we have come from what we see in the glass. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how Will Graham reconstructs his crime scenes. Does that make me a beer empath? Is my identity going to crumble into a magical brew of hops and malt? Will what's left of my humanity be consumed by the very model of a modern brilliant cannibal? Is that such a bad way to go? Every part of me would be honored!
*cough* ...um, I digress.
We start, as does every beer (or wine) tasting, with the pour.
Look at that magnificent pour. This is a pour by a man who respects beer. You don't pour a beer straight down into a glass unless you want a glass full of foam and no liquid. You start with the glass tilted at a slight angle and pour carefully down the side. That allows the liquid to pour without getting foamy. When the glass is about two-thirds to three-quarters full, you straighten the glass and finish the pour directly into the center so you form a full head without ruining the beer or slopping it over the top.
(Speaking of the glass, we'll talk more about that glass later. It is seriously Ale!Fail! but you won't understand why until we finish analyzing the beer.)
The next thing we consider is the character of the head itself.
(By the way, all those "head" jokes you're currently thinking? Old news. Trust me, we beer snobs have heard them all, and you're about to get a whole slew of double-entendre, so you might as well snicker now and let it go.)
Now that's what I call some great head. Creamy but not thick. (See? See?) Small bubbles rise through the foam to form a lacy edge at the top, and if you look closely as Alana tilts the glass you can see a tiny bit of lace left behind.
("Holy hell, Spider," I hear you say (voices in my head!), "have you been enlarging the screen shots hugely and peering at them intently for about half an hour?" WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT? *Spider avoids eye contact*)
Then, the body and color. In the second of the two shots above, most of the glass is obscured by Alana's hand, but at the bottom of the glass there's enough light to examine the color of the beer if you enlarge the screen shot hugely and peer at it intently for about half an hour. We see that it is clear rather than opaque, although possibly a bit hazy. What color I get (with caveats for color irregularities of my laptop screen) could best be described as iced black coffee with a slight shading toward ruby.
Now, let's use our imaginations and experiences to put together the head and body (talk about reconstructing one of Will's crime scenes!).
Imagine a pint of Guinness stout. What do you see? What is the design? A deep, opaque coffee-chocolate color with a characteristic creamy head thick enough to eat with a spoon. Hannibal's beer looks nothing like that, so we know it isn't a stout or a porter.
Now imagine what people usually think of as "beer", such as Stella Artois or Pilsner Urquell. Okay okay, imagine Fosters or Molson if you'd rather. (Please don't offend my sensibilities by imagining Budweiser or Miller; my delicate nature couldn't stand the horror and I might have to kill you.) What is the design? Clear, light color ranging from pale gold to straw. It looks crisp and fizzy in the glass. The head is loose and bubby, and may not leave much lace behind. Hannibal's beer looks nothing like that, so we know it's not a lager or pilsner.
It also looks nothing like the rich gold of an IPA, the pale haziness of a weissbier, or the coppery red of an English pale ale such as Bass.
To make a long story short, what we have here is a dark ale. If the touch of cloudiness I see is actually there, that's spent yeast and will settle as sediment to the bottom of the bottle or glass. This is a major piece of evidence that Hannibal's beer is indeed aged in the cask. Well done, Show! What's more, the style of beer most often aged in wine barrels is the very Belgian-style dark ale I mentioned at the beginning of this post. The answer was in front of you all along! MBWAHAHAHA!
*cough* Let's continue.
Belgian ales are considered to be the pinnacle of the brewer's art. (Yes, even beyond German styles.) Those that were not home-brewed for personal or local consumption were traditionally brewed by monks; some still are and are called Trappist ales. Through the centuries, thanks to the religious principle that all work is worship and should be created to praise God, Belgian ales have become refined, complex, diverse in style and utterly magnificent. You could almost call them spiritual. If that's not the perfect beer for Hannibal Lecter, I don't know what is.
Having settled that, let's talk ingredients.
Most likely, Hannibal imports his yeast from Belgium. Considering his canon background as a World War II orphan, I would not be surprised if he uses Bastogne or Ardennes yeast just for the irony.
As for hops, I simply can not imagine he'd use American hops, which have been bred to be aggressively bitter. You could almost call them "rude". (LOL) On the other hand, Belgian beers are traditionally brewed with what are called "noble hops". What that means is, just as bordeaux wine has to come from Bordeaux and champagne has to come from Champagne, in order to be called "noble hops", the hops must be grown in specific regions of Germany from specific cultivars of the plant. Without going into detail about the characteristics of noble hops (although I could! And if I include other types of hops, I could go on for hours!), I posit that Hannibal uses primarily Tettnang, perhaps with a touch of Spalt. You'll just have to trust me on that one.
Finally, we come to malts. I suppose he could import them too, but I prefer to imagine that he uses domestic organic barley and has sourced an artisan maltster who will prepare the grain according to Hannibal's personal recipe and meticulous standards. Because that is just so Hannibal.
BUT WAIT. We still haven't talked about that glass, which is utter and complete Ale!Fail!
Look at that glass! Just look at it! That is a pilsner glass! You never, ever serve a Belgian ale in a pilsner glass! Shame on you, Show! Do you think Hannibal would serve red wine in a champagne flute? Do you think Hannibal would have less than a full set of appropriate glassware for his home-brewed masterpiece? I THINK NOT.
THIS is how to serve fine Belgian ale. You'll note that it's almost like a brandy snifter, except where the rim flares out. The flare supports and presents the head of the beer to its best advantage, just as a runway model presents a designer gown. The round belly and sloped neck function just as a snifter does, to concentrate taste and aroma. In fact, a large brandy snifter is a good substitute if you don't have a tulip glass. Even if by some stretch of the imagination he does not possess appropriate tulip glassware, Hannibal Lecter not owning a brandy snifter is inconceivable.
Belgian ales can also be served in a chalice.
Personally, I'm not fond of this style. I find it too thick and clumsy. Therefore, I unilaterally declare that our good doctor shares my opinion. If needed, the proper substitute for a chalice is an oversized red wine glass. Again, if Hannibal doesn't own a set of those, I'll eat my own foot. Preferably braised with beans like a ham hock. Some mustard greens on the side, please, as I don't care for collards.
In conclusion, I present my findings to you, the Hannibal fandom, as fanon to be used as you please when creating fanworks in which Hannibal brews beer. Also, I strongly suggest to you, Bryan Fuller, that next season your fine and talented crew do as detailed research on the beer in your show as on the food and wine.
As the world's greatest (and only) beer empath, I hereby pronounce this case closed.
I don't know about you, but I could use a beer.
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/560151.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.