History is dull. If you’re stupid. Because history is awesome. And this Friday, The Daily Caller is going to black-hawk right over the Great Wall of China (FU Mongolia) on a suicide mission into the heart of Baltimore. And in the spirit of journalism, we’re going be drinking while we do it. Oh, and we learned from Uncle Steve (and the last ride of the lawnmower) — we ripped the wheels off this baby so the cops can just DUI themselves right around and STFU. Do you trust us?
What’s so historic about China? Don’t stress, champ: These guys invented gunpowder, spaghetti and Tibet. And Baltimore? Well, they invented National Premium. In 1936. When we were still teenagers. Haven’t heard of that? That’s because it was really popular in the 1940s and ’50s but was discontinued 16 years ago after a couple of recipe swaps. But a few principled entrepreneurs out there in the Old Line State hunted down the patent and the original 1936 recipe and — you guessed it — raised National Premium from the dead. What does it taste like, you ask? Hold on — we need to scale this wall first.
Brooklyn Brewery’s East India Pale Ale (and Chinese Takeout Experience)
So last Sunday, while all the amateurs were snoozin’, TheDC’s responsible friends woke us the hell out of bed with the following words: “Hey. The Brooklyn Brewery Chinese Takeout Experiment starts in, like, an hour. And it’s raining. And I need a coffee.” (Pairing: TheDC mixes Chinese takeout and beer in its mouth)
So like soldiers, we soldiered. And boy was it worth it. The gang from New York had assembled 14 of D.C.’s top dogs to cook up the best Chinese takeout food they could imagine, and TheDC got to have a taste (or four) of each, all while crushing on cans of Brooklyn East India Pale Ale and a lil’ of the Rock N Roll Hotel’s REDRUM frozen booze. What the hell does all this pair with? We went with an earful of rockabilly music and a couple of daytime glasses of Jim Beam Rye (though by this point, TheDC’s responsible friends had gone to get their hair done).
The day’s winner? Some bomb PORK, PORK, PORK from the Lucky Fortune Golden Mountain Palace Express Takeaway, placed on top of a crusty noodle (we think) and topped with fresh roe.
Some stand-out dishes included In Bed’s spicy, sweet and chocolate fortune cookies, and Two Whites Don’t Make a Wong’s crab rangoon (mainly because it was the first time in our professional lives that a white dude with a laser gun and a hipster bandanna had promised an “explosion in your mouth”). For our fave, we went with Virginia is for [Dumpling] Lovers’ dumplings, with a shout out to the Casually Pepper Spray Everything Girls’ beef because, well, we agree.
But enough chitchat and on to the beer that we swirled with all these ancient delicacies: The East India Pale Ale.
This beautiful homage to the old country’s sweaty oppressors starts off with a great head settling slowly over a hazy, dark orange body that one guest expert identified as an “autumnal sunset” (no homo). (RELATED: Rough Draught’s story of the IPA and another beer the Brits exported)
The semi-sweet, hoppy nose was one of our favorite parts of this beer (behind the 6.9 percent alcohol by volume). While at first we worried that we were about to have a collective stroke, it was agreed that there is a hint of pumpkin in the smell, with a slight warm cider note. Regardless of what we were smoking, it’s a damn fine aroma.
And the taste didn’t let us down, either. This brew rocks a classic, piney hop-taste but with a superior mouth feel to your average IPA. At $9.99 a six pack and 45 IBUs, this is a cool can to keep on hand this summer.
And the Chinese food pairing is no joke. This may be one of the only IPAs we’ve ever had that washes down some spicy pork with a beautiful finish.
National Brewing Company’s National Premium
Now, this is a cool experience. Founded in 1936, National Premium used to be the beer that you’d buy when you had an extra nickel, to step it up a notch. It was a kind of craft beer before there were craft beers — “a little more expensive,” the company’s spokesman says, “because it wasn’t brewed in mass quantities.”
So what happened to the original National Premium? Well, time. And some poor decisions. The truth is, like a couple of the old beers (See: Schlitz), National Premium was bought up (now listen — there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with that) and sold out (definitely something wrong with that). As National Premium switched owners and companies, it underwent recipe changes in the 1950s, ‘70s and the ’90s. The people of Baltimore who grew up with this beer had some tolerance — but not that much, and in 1996, Stroh Brewing Company decided to bury this Maryland classic.
And they would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for that meddling Tim Miller — a local guy (with a beer-drinkers name) who bought the trademark at an auction and went out looking hopefully for old brewmasters in search of its original recipe. Luckily for beer drinkers everywhere, he found it, and after teaming up with Fordham Brewing Company of Annapolis, revived this piece of brewing history.
Through TheDC’s lovely Krista Staley and National Brewing Company Communication Director Matt Oczkowski (also a beer-drinking name), a six-pack ended up on our desk a few weeks before its release date.
With a light, golden body underneath a medium white head, grandpa’s favorite Bohemian Pilsner gives forth a classic, sharp nose that matches its clean, fresh taste — one that leaves a sharpness on the tip of the tongue and a malty flavor at the back. “I usually don’t drink manly beers,” Krista said, “but this is good.”
“We wanted to go back to the taste that people knew,” Oczkowski told TheDC.
Made with Cara-pils Malt and Cascade and Hallertau hops, and weighing in 5 percent ABV, the National Premium will be unleashed in Maryland by Memorial Day weekend, with select local tastings in the meantime. The master plan, Oczkowski said, is to make the beer available throughout the Mid-Atlantic area — Maryland, D.C., Pennsylvania, Virginia and Delaware.
In the area but can’t wait to get a hold of this old timer? Try signing up as an “Ambassador of Good Cheer” — a throwback, Oczkowski said, to the Mad Men who once advertised this product — and stay tuned for updates and special contacts.
