Friday Froth: Caius Farm Brewery Opens in Branford

Photography courtesy of Caius Farm Brewery

On March 15, 44B.C., the “Ides of March” made famous by Cato and Shakespeare, Julius Caesar was assassinated after declaring himself dictator for life – essentially a new king - by senators who wanted to preserve the Roman republic. It was during this shakily-auspicious lunar period when I found myself transfixed by a circa-2nd century A.D. Roman mosaic of the god Mercury at the brand-new Caius Farm Brewery in Branford, and sipping a beer called “Brutus.” Cosmic.

“Caius” isn’t just the name of the place, it’s the name of its owner, one Caius Mergy: a Middlebury College Classics major with a Masters in Classical Archaeology from the Oxford University in England, who then decided to graduate at the top of his brewing classes at the Siebel Institute in Chicago, and the Doemens Academy in Munich. You know, for fun. Long time readers of this column will know about my history dork-dom (it’s my undergrad degree, too), and I mention with a name like that, Caius’ parents must have also been into classics.

“My mom actually saw it in a baby names book and liked the sound of it,” he smiles, clearly having heard this one before. “The rest is...” He waves his hands at the brewery’s expanse and laughs.

New Canaan born, and Old Lyme raised, Caius says the Constitution State is where he’s always felt at home and had a dream of having a small farm and brewing operation close to New Haven, and immediately fell in love with the previously run-down property.

The brewery’s location just off I-95 on North Branford Road was once the early 20th-century David Baldwin farm, and the spanking new space resembles a gleaming white barn. An umbrella-covered back patio overlooks wetlands and is planned to be the future site of an apiary project, where docile honeybees will buzz between the close-by plant life and trees, and pollinate the crops of the farms still working in the area. In the interior, light streams through a high round window lined with the brewery’s flower-like logo, which was itself inspired by a Roman mosaic.

There was a fairly large crowd for the opening night of a previously unheard of brewery, but the generous interior space meant it never felt crowded. Wood beams trace the length of the ceiling, and I’m excited to see several wooden foedors in the eye-level beer cellar. 

A mural – painted by Caius’ sister, Claudia – depicts a menagerie of busts in the Greek and Roman styles, depicting she and her brother and family pets, surrounded by those of the beers’ namesakes, and Caius’ stoic idol, Marcus Aurelius.

A long, wooden bar seems to have plenty of space for the brass rail crowd, and spotlights above the bar pick out an antiquary of... no way.

“Yeah,” says Caius. “Those are mostly real. That one is a medieval drinking vessel, and that [a clay figurine of a boy with a distinctive hairstyle half submerged in a vat] is an ancient Egyptian depiction of a boy mashing malt and hops with his feet to make beer.”

Ecstatic and chattering, I am nagged by something as we talk, a suspicion in the back of my mind.

Oh yeah, dummy: the beer. You should try some.

All the brewery’s beers are named after historical figures, so back to that Brutus, which Caius and assistant brewer, Gavin Goluv, call their flagship beer.

Brutus is a modern, hazy IPA with a darker SRM (the grades of a beer’s color) than the usual bright orange-to-green of the species. It comes in at what to me is the highly desirable middleweight punch of 6.5% ABV, and puts off a melon-y/citrusy aroma over a thin head. It’s smooth and low on bitterness, yes, but the malts come through in a way which is uncommon for a hazy. There’s a little bread and sweet crustiness underneath. In a style where many offerings are basically vehicles for fruit and booze – alcoholic juice boxes in a collared shirt – this IPA shows more attention to the backbone which makes a beer. It’s a pleasingly easy drinker. 

Re: the name - “Brutus” in this case isn’t the “Et tu” guy of legend, but Lucius Junius Brutus, a founder of the Roman republic active some 500 years before Caesar. 

Gorgo (wife of the famous Leonidas of Sparta) shares her name with an 8.5% imperial IPA at Caius. I take it easy on this one, getting one of the available short pours, and stick my nose into the orchard aroma produced by its heavy dose of Citra and Idaho 7 hops. Slightly deeper amber than the Brutus, and barely translucent (both brewers absolutely vow to never filter any of their beers), the big final gravity of this beer leaves a thicker, sweeter mouthfeel and flavor of mango, pineapple, and grapefruit. A big beer with a tight, punchy name, it maintains a round profile with barley, wheat and flaked oats

One Roman in particular died on the famous Ides, but MANY met their end in the German Teutoburg Forest in 9 B.C. at the hands of an opposing host commanded by one Arminius, our 6.5% robust porter of the evening. Your legions of tastebuds are safe with the blend of British and German specialty malts in this jet-black pour, where waves of dark toast, cocoa powder, and coffee emerge unseen from the darkness. 

I very much wanted to try the Balbilla kölsch, but Caius and Gavin said the German-style lager wasn’t quite ready (it may be by the time you read this), and responded to my complimenting their wooden foedors by pouring a sample of Apicius, the first batch of the sour series which will bubble, grow, and transform in the barrel-like vessels.

If the name Apicius sound familiar to readers of this, our beloved foodie site, it’s because he was the famous author of what is currently the world’s oldest surviving cookbook, a MASSIVE epicurean gourmand, and was reported by his poetic Roman near-contemporary, Martial, to have died by his own hand, after bottoming out at the Roman equivalent of ten million dollars, and thus unable to throw another proper feast. Truly a tragic figure.

ANYWAY, Apicius will be a rolling series of kettle soured beers featuring the fruits of a gourmet’s pleasure; in this case, peach.

I have to say: this one is pretty excellent. Apicius One has plenty of the peach-purée you’d expect, kept from being syrupy or cloying by an only moderately heavy mouthfeel, and a sour character that’s better described as “tart.” In an American culture where “That’s good, but MOAR!!!” seems to be the guiding ethos, and sour beers have a pH somewhere around “battery acid,” this one is somewhere between Powerade and a particularly sharp lemonade.

“I wanted it to be juuust there,” says Mergy. “Not puckering, but just dry enough that it wants you to come back for another sip.”

The “farm” aspect of the brewery’s name now mainly stems from Connecticut-grown input. 

“I love using Connecticut ingredients,” says Mergy. “Finding the grains, hops, and other ingredients that really speak to me.”

So far that’s meant the “beautifully complex, but also delicate” flaked corn from Thall Family Malt, and Smokedown Farms Chinook hops, which Caius calls unlike any other Chinook, which tend to be more resinous and dank from the west coast, and express more fruit-forward flavors from local soil. 

The Greek words Soma, Psyche, Nous, and Zythos (Body, Mind, Soul, Beer) are printed on the brewery’s shirts. The first three, says Caius, is what it takes to make the fourth.

See you out there.

Caius Farms Brewery

101 North Branford Rd., Branford

www.caiusfarmbrewery.com