Looks like BobBrews may have the most experience with this.(?) Bob - your advice looks to be "just grab am arm full or two of fresh hops and throw it into the boil." No offense Bob, that was not your exact quote but I am a very exact person. Is there a good rule of thumb on how to do that? And want to get that nice fresh hopped flavor, if possible.love that stuff. Fresh Hop / Wet Hop - just pulled off the vine. Not talking dry hopping, don't think.not added to fermenter, but adding to the boil. Perhaps some from last year (boil/bittering) - and will have to estimate Alpha, and remainder new fresh hops, and wIll need to pull off the vine (aroma/flavor). Want to use a bunch of my Cascade hops, brewed against the side of my house for this. All my former American Pale Ales were with WLP051. From almost 20 gallons 3 months ago, almost out.ģ) Due to the heat / early summer most crops (including my hops) are a couple weeks ahead, here in Oregon.Ĥ) Plan to brew a large batch of beer this weekend and probably split it between WyEast 1332 (NW Ale yeast - from Hales Ales) and American Ale Yeast 1056 (WLP001) - think it is from Sierra Nevada. It is one of my favorite things! Magical time of year, for reasons other than college football.Ģ) I NEED to produce some good beer ASAP. Before I posted anything I wanted to check and see if there was any info on fresh hopping (aka wet hopping).ġ) I LOVE early fall when we can get Fresh Hop Pale (wet hop?) at micro brews here in the Pacific Northwest. Mari Taketa writes about the Hawaii food scene and is the editor of Frolic Hawaii. I haven’t given up on the yakitori, though. So does the chicken work as a good luck charm? Ura lost an extremely close match - the referee’s call giving him the win was overturned by a conference of judges. Kokugikan’s yakitori is so popular that it’s also sold at Tokyo Station, but honestly, unless you’re at the arena watching a live tournament, save your yen. Stacks of pre-packaged boxes hold three sticks of grilled thigh meat and two of tsukune, or chicken meatballs - not quite hot off the grill but still good, the delicate touch of the soy-sugar-sake marinade drawing out the umami of the chicken. When I finally found them, the yakitori stands at Kokugikan weren’t what I expected. For a faster, more direct route, head to one of the information booths and ask for a map. By the time I finally find the yakitori, I’ve bought Kokugikan mochi crunch and a stash of sumo tea depicting happy wrestlers basking in cups of the brew. Sprinkled among the tchotchkes are kiosks selling draft beer, sake, sushi, bentos, and soft serve. There’s even a Snoopy plushie in a red loincloth. Wide corridors encircling the arena on two floors are crammed with stalls hawking keychains, plastic topknots (sumo’s characteristic hairstyle), and full-size rubber masks molded from wrestlers’ faces. Despite yakitori’s status as the grand champion of Kokugikan snacks (they’re grilled in a dedicated kitchen in the basement), it was surprisingly hard to find a place to buy it. I already knew what I’d be eating.įulfilling my yakitori duty as a fan, though, didn’t prove easy. So when my plans for a spring trip to Tokyo coincided with the May tournament at Kokugikan, I knew what to do: poise my fingers above my computer keyboard the minute online ticket sales went live. That’s six 15-day tournaments a year, equivalent to 90 total viewing days, roughly a quarter of every year. Three years as a captive audience to every sumo tournament broadcast on NHK World, my dad’s preferred TV channel, turned me and his small coterie of caregivers into diehard fans. So when Ura - a short, feisty underdog whose rotund build makes him look like the Michelin man in a pink silk loincloth - hops into the ring, the crowd waving half-eaten chicken sticks is bringing him luck. Why? Because a wrestler loses if he touches the earthen ring with anything other than the soles of his feet - and chickens always stand on two feet. Japan’s ancient sport, it turns out, goes with yakitori the way American baseball goes with hot dogs. “Ura! It’s Ura!” Up in the nosebleed seats of Ryogoku Kokugikan, Tokyo’s packed-to-the-gills sumo arena, I’m cheering for my favorite wrestler with a skewer of grilled chicken. This post originally appeared in the Septemedition of Eater’s Travel newsletter, a place for Eater’s editors and writers to share their tips for navigating the world’s most delicious destinations.
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