Guinness Foreign Extra Stout

I wouldn't call Guinness my favorite beer, or even necessarily my favorite stout. It's not without it's charm: smooth and creamy, maybe a little on the bland side. I find myself drinking it most often when it shows up in my girlfriend's parents' refrigerator. It's reliable and mostly inoffensive, unless your dropping Bailey's and Jameson into it*, which I've never had much taste for. So why, then, did I find myself purchasing this 'Foreign Extra' stout? The answer is of course that I'm sucker for marketing gimmicks, and slapping new words on a familiar product is the oldest one in the book.

That's not to say this is the same recipe in different packaging; consider it the Code Red to Guinness's regular Dew. Near as I can tell from both taste and packaging details, they've taken their familiar stout and dumped a bunch of hops in, hoping that it will add some new character to a proven formula. It doesn't. In my estimation they have taken an unexceptional but serviceable beer and turned it into something simply unexceptional. The smooth, malty goodness of OG is gone, and has been replaced with something bitter and thoroughly without character. Basically I'd say that Guinness is punching above its weight here: there are plenty of stouts on the market with rich flavor profiles, and while I don't consider Guinness to be one of them it has it's place and isn't going anywhere. I'm only guessing that Foreign Extra is an attempt to compete with some of these craft brewers, but to what end?

In any event, don't be suckered in by the extra words. This was $10 for a 4-pack in Iowa, and while it packs a little extra punch (7.9% abv, I believe), its not what I would call an enjoyable drinking experience.

On the subject of stouts, I've had the privilege of drinking a truly exceptional beer called Ola Dubh which I hope to be writing up next week (partially because I also hope to be drinking one next week. It's fucking delicious).

*A friend told me a story (which may be just that) about some buddies of his traveling in Ireland a while ago. They were spending a fair amount of time there, and had at some point traveled outside of Dublin to see a bit of the country. One afternoon they stopped into a pub and asked the bartender for two Irish car bombs. The bartender smiled and excused himself, stepping into the back room. Turns out he had gone to tell the owner of the pub about a couple of Americans ordering this drink. The owner pulled out two shot glasses, poured some whiskey in, set them both on fire and pushed them across the bar. "You want Irish car bombs? Well there's your Twin Towers, now get the fuck out my pub!" They politely rescinded their order and left without drinking the flaming whiskey.

Berghoff Oktoberfest

When Budweiser unveiled their failed "drinkability" campaign, legions of drinkers nationwide struggled to comprehend what exactly "drinkability" was. After all, if Budweiser was so "drinkable", weren't all of its direct competitors? Drinkable, in my mind, became a laughable synonym for "shitty beer-water". Although I still refuse to take this "word" seriously, it has been redefined in my own mind as a descriptor for Berghoff's Oktoberfest (and other like beers).

The Berghoff is a restaurant/brewery located in downtown Chicago. It's been serving German beer & food for a damn long time (since 1898 to be exact). Their food is actually pretty decent if you don't mind dining in a light-free, wood-paneled, geriatric holding center. We dined there twice this last year based on their frequent collaborations with overvalued Chicago startup Groupon.

Berghoff's beers are brewed in Monroe, Wisconsin, a few dozen miles outside Madison. I bought a sampler pack at my local grocery that included all their varietals. I'm only going to review the Oktoberfest here, because frankly their beers are boring. Returning to the theme of drinkability, the Berghoff Oktoberfest represents the height of unobjectionability. It's pretty smooth, tangy, and infinitely more complex than a Bud Light. It's also dull, faintly roasty, and conspicuously devoid of hops or other bright flavors that might make the beer a little bit more memorable. If they were cold, I could drink about a dozen of these whilst participating in a flip cup, boat race, or beer pong tournament. As far as what I desire to drink when I'm sitting around the house and only want to enjoy a couple of beers, this is at the bottom of my list. It's twice the price of Bud Light but half the taste of competitors at its price point, and its much better suited to the confines of its namesake restaurant where it enjoys monopoly status.

Lagunitas Cappuccino Stout

Browsing my Beer Madness review history reveals that I have written about painfully few full bodied/dark beers during my tenure here. I actually love the taste of stouts and their ilk, but I also love to knock down 4+ beers in a sitting and doing that with a heavy bodied brew just doesn't sit well with my stomach. For lunch today I indulged a rare splurge on the Pig & Fig sandwich at hoity-toity Chicago food store Pastoral. While waiting for them to spread the black tea and fig chutney on my french bread I spotted this Lagunitas seasonal on the shelf and made an impulse buy.

I now know that this impulse buy was actually a wise, considered investment. The Lagunitas Cappuccino Stout is one of the finest beers I've had the pleasure of tasting. Its coffee base ensures that it is both bright and bitter like a good cup should be. It gives off a sense of richness without tasting saccharine, like a good bar of dark chocolate, which by the way is another flavor this beer evokes. The texture is silky smooth without being overly heavy or syrupy. I didn't have great expectations when I purchased this because I've consumed some truly stank coffee flavored beers over the last couple of years. I should have known I could trust the curatorial tongues of Pastoral.

Russian River's Pliny the Elder IPA

Let's begin with the concise history lesson provided by this bottle of Russian River's delectable double IPA, Pliny the Elder. "Pliny the Elder, born in 23 A.D., was a Roman naturalist, scholar, historian, traveler, officer, and writer. Pliny, and his contemporaries, created the original botanical name for hops, 'Lupus Salictarius,' meaning 'wolf among scrubs.' Hop vines, at that time, grew wild among willows, likened to wolves roaming wild in the forest. Pliny the Elder died in 79 A.D. while saving people during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. He was immortalized by his nephew, Pliny the Younger, who continued his uncle's legacy by documenting much of what his uncle experienced during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. This beer is an homage to the man who discovered hops and perished while being a humanitarian."

Russian River has crafted an immaculate homage to the man who brought hops into the realm of botanical significance. The 8% ABV double IPA is all about hops. Unlike other super-hopped IPAs that drown the brew in a sea of indistinguishable bitterness, Pliny is incredibly well balanced and allows the subtle flavors and aromas of the various hop varieties used to shine through. There are pine notes and citrus undercurrents that arrive on the palate simultaneously with the big hop explosion. A slightly sweet background eases onto the scene as a lingering aftertaste. Without a doubt, Pliny the Elder is the IPA by which all other IPAs are judged.

There will be many things that I miss about the west coast when I inevitably make my way back to the northeast: the beautiful coast line, the availability of buche tacos, the year round agricultural production. But Pliny the Elder may top my list of things I long for when that day comes. For now, I'll keep gladly dishing out the $4.99 it costs to enjoy a 16.9 ounce bottle.

Bell's Hopslam Ale

Hopslam, more like hopsmattering. Other than the name, which is seriously misleading, this offering from Bell's is decent. For a powerful IPA packing a 10% ABV, it's a little too subtle and fruity for my tastes. The Hopslam is honestly a little watered-down, and it lacked the punch of hops that I was expecting. But, it was refreshing and light, and judging by the crowd assembled for the limited-release party, it has its fans; the keg was emptied in half an hour.

Admittedly, my lack of posts here has been disgraceful. Even more shameful is the dearth of good beer I've been able to try lately. Between a trip to Panama, where they drink low-quality light lagers or high-quality rum, and an attempt to finally clear out my fridge of shitty leftover beer (i.e. year-old blueberry wheat beer that someone brought to a party and I've been reluctant to finish), my tastings have been few and far between. Hopefully I'm now ready to get slammed, in a good way.

Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary Our Brewer's Reserve Grand Cru

I must admit I felt a little bit guilty about criticizing the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in my last post. I don't disagree with what I wrote, but I didn't want to give the impression that I felt that Sierra Nevada's whole approach was to capitalize on the microbrew new recruit club. To help ease my nagging guilt, I drank a 750 ml bottle of Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Grand Cru this evening. Simply put, I fucking loved it.

Yes, I loved it. But it isn't my favorite brew in the 30th Anniversary series. That distinction goes to the Fritz and Ken Imperial Stout, though I admittedly have not tried the bock (and don't have much interest in doing so given my feelings about German style beers). Grand Cru is a complex, dry-hopped blend of Sierra Nevada's Celebration Ale, Pale Ale, and Oak-Aged Bigfoot Barleywine. The result is an incredibly smooth strong ale with an ABV of 9.2%. The dominant tastes are of pine resin and slightly bitter hops. The bitterness is very well balanced, however, with a subtly sweet malt finish. I really hate talking about beers' appearance and aroma, but the head on this beer is worth mentioning. Not only was the head ample, but it was also deliciously succulent. I slurped up the one-inch plus head and enjoyed it almost as much as the weirdly irresistible ice cream/root beer fusion head you get on a root beer float. It also left some serious lacing on the edge of my pint class, which people seem to care about even though it just makes the glass harder to clean.

Ten dollars is a lot of cash to drop on a bottle of beer, but the three Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary ales that I've tried are worth every penny. Grand Cru may be the best balanced beer I've ever tasted, and I've had a lot of beer...

Mendocino Brewing Company Oatmeal Stout

You would hope that a town called Hopland, California would produce some incredible beer. I tried (admittedly very quickly and superficially) to find some history on the production of hops in Hopland, but came up nearly empty-handed. Hops were grown in Hopland around 1910, but the town already had its name prior to that. Although the supremely hot summers are ideal for hop production, I don't believe there are any significant hop producers in California today.

Though it may no longer grow hops, Hopland is home to the Mendocino Brewing Company. The brewery's Eye of the Hawk and Red Tail Ales are extremely popular in northern California, but have never been very interesting to me. It kind of seems like the two brews fill the same market niche as Sierra Nevada Pale Ale: they are enough like macro-brews to be accessible to a broad audience, but different and local enough to appeal to those trying to branch out beyond Budweiser and PBR. Despite my general lack of interest in their product, I was drawn to the bottle design of the Oatmeal Stout for some reason and optimistic that like their other seasonal that I've tried, the Imperial IPA, that the stout would be worth trying.

The commercial description of the Mendocino Oatmeal stout is as follows: "Jet black in color and full·bodied with a rich, creamy, long-lasting head. Robust, with luscious chocolate and coffee flavors, it is balanced with just the right amount of UK Golding hops. Brewed with massive quantities of oats, our Oatmeal Stout is smooth in the extreme. It pairs well with a wide range of hearty, full-flavored foods and delicious desserts. Our Oatmeal Stout is 6.0% alcohol by volume and 100% marvelous!"

This description is, surprisingly, fairly accurate. However, here are some amendments based on my observations. First, the beer had almost no head. The bit of head that it did have dissipated after about 12 seconds. Second, I paired this beer with some Kettle Brand Backyard Barbecue Chips, so I can't really comment on their pairing recommendations. Third, I would say the beer is more like 25% marvelous and 75% good. I really don't have any criticism of the stout, but it seems like maybe Mendocino is holding back just a little bit. Playing it safe may have won Mendocino the recent macro-brew convert crowd, but even their very satisfactory Oatmeal Stout can't make me a believer in the Hopland brewery.

Sudwerk Doppel Bock

I really want to love the Sudwerk Brewery in Davis, CA. The German beer hall style brew pub layout along with the spacious outdoor patio are great for big raucous groups of drinkers. The buffalo wings, onion rings, and fries are all excellent. Service is notoriously sub-par, especially when there is anything resembling a crowd present. Like the service, the beer often leaves much to be desired.

German beer styles have never been very interesting to me. Sudwerk doesn't exclusively brew German beers, but they certainly focus their energy in that genre. This hasn't stopped me from enjoying plenty of pints and wings at Sudwerk, but it hasn't stopped me from wishing that I lived somewhere with a better local brewery either.

This six-pack of Suwdwerk's Doppel Bock was purchased at the discount grocery store in Woodland, CA for $7.99. I first tried a bottle of the Doppel Bock at a very socially awkward post-external-advisory-board dinner that I was forced to attend for work. I really liked the beer then, but all booze taste better when they help distract you from the fact that you are struggling to make small talk with someone about the advent of reusable magnetic nametags.

Upon further analysis conducted in the more objective reviewing conditions of the Living Room Fermented Beverage Tasting Laboratories, Sudwerk's Doppel Bock is just as mediocre as most of the brewery's output. The beer is smooth, sweet, and slightly roasty at first. There may be a hint of raisins or prunes or something fruity, but that might just be my palate struggling to make me sound more sophisticated or background interference from the Poore Brothers' Jalapeño chips that I ate earlier. However, the taste quickly evolves first to an overwhelmingly sweet malt followed by a harsh alcohol finish. The beer does weigh in at 8.0% ABV, but I've had too many other high ABV brews that successfully balance and smooth the high alcohol content to let my local brewery off the hook for this finish. It's a good thing for the Sudwerk brewpub that they make such good chicken wings, otherwise I don't think I'd be heading back anytime soon.

Goose Island - Fleur Belgian Style Ale

You might have thought I forgot about this beer blog. And, for about 2 months, I did. But after reading the entire archive of Ethan's most recent reviews on Google Reader via my phone while eating slices alone at Santullo's Pizza in Chicago, I realized it was time to start blogging again (p.s. nice work, easy E). I'm just getting over the flu so I haven't been drinking much (at least by my standards). I figured it was time to reward myself for a week of good behavior (no drinking, no smoking, no staying up until 2am playing my NBA 2k11 franchise) by enjoying a nice 22oz bottle of beer. On my way back from the pizza place I picked up a bottle of Goose Island's Fleur Belgian Ale, part of their "vintage" series of craft brews that I have enjoyed drinking over the past year.



I picked the Fleur because I've had the Sofie, Matilda, and Pere Jacque and found them all to be pretty good. Unfortunately the Fleur brought my taste buds back in time to a beer previously reviewed on this blog. That beer is Earthquake High Gravity Malt Liquor, which Ethan quite accurately compared to "a 40 of St. Ides, dump(ed)... into a large bowl with several rotten apples...". The Fleur's bouquet is like a fresh bowl of fruit punch made with road apples and the end-of-the-week remains of the produce section from my (former) local C-Town by the projects on Flushing Ave in Bushwick:





I actually just took a break from writing this post to put the half poured bottle back in the refrigerator. The reason I did this is that I fear the beer will become undrinkable if I let it get too warm. One should never have to say that about a $8.99 bottle of beer, but in this case it's the sad truth. According to Goose Island the Fleur has flavors of kombucha, hibiscus, and 'tart, fresh berry'. I wish they printed this fact on the label so I could have chosen a different beer. Who the fuck wants kombucha in their beer? The only reason people drink that foul mold juice is for the health benefits. Although the health benefits of kombucha are pretty questionable in the first place, I'm pretty sure that brewing it into a stale apple ale removes any and all positive effects it might have had. The whole exercise feels like a half-baked attempt to be different and attention-grabbing without considering why these flavors are being combined in the way that they are. Then again, maybe I'm just a complete beer philistine, because people are giving this swill extremely positive reviews on BeerAdvocate.

If I really concentrate on what bothers me about this ale, it's that the flavor profile is supposed to give the drinker a sensation of sweetness upon first smell/taste with a tart finish. I am getting a sour/rotten first taste, followed by a tart (bordering on bitter) aftertaste. The fact that the texture so smoothly thick that it feels like apple juice doesn't help its case. In summation I think that Goose Island makes some terrific brews and I like their vintage series (the Sofie and Juliet in particular), but the Fleur missed the mark massively for this beer drinker.

Port Brewing Company Old Viscosity Ale

Well, I saved the best for last. I'll round out this new year's tour of California micro-breweries by heading down south to San Marcos for a $5.99 bomber of Port Brewing Company's Old Viscosity Ale. If you don't feel like reading a bunch of long winded, rosy prose, I LIKE THIS BEER A LOT AND THINK IT'S REALLY YUMMY! YUM!

As the name implies, Old Viscosity is as thick as used engine oil. Not only is it thick, but it is black as night. I held this pint up to a 100 watt light bulb to see if any luminescence would make its way through, and not a hint of brightness emerged. The ale pours with almost no trace of head, which only reinforces its resemblance to crude oil. Thankfully, the beer tastes nothing like petroleum.

At first, the 10% ABV slaps you in the face. But, as if being slapped by an adored lover, the brash alcohol zip is quickly soothed and transitions into more of a smooth, high end whiskey finish. Old Viscosity is aged in oak barrels, and the cask taste makes its appearance with the whiskey. The co-stars that emerge on the palate are subtle: roasted coffee, molasses, maybe a hint of anise.

This beer made me an instant fan of Port Brewing. The small company has a somewhat interesting story that involves them collaborating with another San Diego area craft brewery, Stone Brewing Company, to increase its distribution. I'm appreciative of this collaboration, since it means that I no longer have to drive to Berkeley to find Port's gems. If you ever find yourself in California, be sure to track down a bottle of Old Viscosity.

Firestone Walker Velvet Merlin Oatmeal Stout

Like Anderson Valley Brewing, Firestone Walker is a fairly small California microbrewery with limited regional distribution. New this year to the Firestone repertoire is their oatmeal stout, Velvet Merlin. According to the packaging, "Velvet Merlin is also partially blended with Merlin that has been aged in bourbon barrels for a year. The aging adds even more complexity to this very rich beer. The use of US grown Fuggles gives the perfect hop flavor to this exceptionally well-balanced beer."

Let me begin by saying that Velvet Merlin is, obviously, a much more appropriate winter beer than Anderson Valley's High Rollers. This oatmeal stout is thick and creamy like any good stout should be. The usual roast grain, coffee, and chocolate flavors are present, but there is a strange, harsh taste that overwhelms the finish. Though Velvet Merlin is only 5.5% alcohol by volume, the harshness seems reminiscent of high proof liquor. Could this be the complexity added by the mixing of bourbon barrel-aged beer into the blend? Despite the harsh finish, Velvet Merlin is a nice addition to the Firestone Walker collection and reasonably priced at $7.99 for a six-pack.

Anderson Valley High Rollers Wheat Beer

Happy New Year! I've never been very interested in celebrating on new year's eve. This is quite likely the result of my tendency to want to be in bed by 10:30 PM. My scrooge-like disinterest could also be attributed to what happened the one time I decided to attend a new year's eve party with Davis thrown by a bunch of Grinnell College alums in the middle of Harlem. Feeling extraordinarily awkward having not attended Grinnell, I proceeded to drink more beer, rum, and whiskey than a D.A.R.E. officer could ever smile upon. My excessive consumption came back to haunt me in two distinct ways in the following 12 hours as I struggled first to enjoy having met my now ex-girlfriend and then, the following morning, attempted to avoid suffocating my now ex-girlfriend as my intestines rebelled. No matter the reason, I'm staying home with the cat and dog this new years and watching The Expendables.

Keeping with the tradition of drinking to ring in the new year, I'll be reviewing a couple of beers I have stashed in the fridge this evening. First up is an unlikely candidate: Anderson Valley Brewing Company's High Rollers Wheat Beer. I just bought a six-pack of this summer ale at a discount grocer for $5, as compared to the normal $9 price tag. The thought of drinking a wheat beer in December seemed absurd, but the price was right and I have a soft spot for Anderson Valley Brewing.

Why do I like Anderson Valley, you ask? Well, they have a large solar array that powers their brewery for starters. The crusty tree-hugging environmentalist in me likes that. The brewery also produces the Barney Flats Oatmeal Stout, which I can credit for helping me avoid therapy my first year of graduate school. Another plus is that all of the Anderson Valley brews reflect an effort to preserve the local culture of the quirky California coastal region. Settlers in the late 1800s developed a unique local dialect called Bontling that peppers the labels and names of the brewery's offerings. From this bottle: "It's a slow lope'n a beson tree," which translates to, "It's mellow and easy going."

Despite my appreciation for Anderson Valley, I have little affection for wheat beers. I have long considered wheat beers the ale equivalent of the Milwaukee Brewers' utilityman Craig Counsell. On all objective measures, both Counsell and wheat beers aren't very good. So, why do they stick around? Well, they are versatile in their respective unoffensive existence. Rather, they aren't very good, but are they really all that bad? I guess they both represent some sort of nostalgic notion of purity, too. Counsell is the unlikely awkward local kid who scrapped his way into the majors instead of attending a baseball academy in the Dominican Republic. Wheat beers are the iconic American summer brew that provide the background to barbecues, the Fourth of July, and, well, baseball (assuming we exclude the macro-brewed rice-based lagers).

Anderson Valley's High Rollers Wheat Beer lives up to my expectations. It's crisp and slightly lemony. There's a slight hint of sweet grain that makes itself about as known as Counsell's bat. Mostly, though, it tastes like Coors without the offensive metallic punch and a slightly higher 5.3% ABV. I can see the refreshing potential of High Rollers on a hot summer evening, but the price better be low... just like Craig Counsell.

North Coast Brother Thelonious Belgian Style Abbey Ale

I drink my Brother Thelonious Straight, No Chaser. Ugh, that's a bad joke that maybe only Ken Burns or my University of Iowa History of Jazz professor would chuckle at.

First, a big thank you to my friend Mark for getting me this 25.4 ounce bottle as a Christmas gift. Second, major point deduction for being the most difficult bottle of beer to open in the world. I spent a good 4 minutes prying at the cork with a corkscrew inserted before I was able to liberate the sweet libation. Third, I spilled a little bit of Brother Thelonious on my cat. He seemed to pretend that he didn't have beer all over his back at first, then proceeded to take great joy in licking it off. If Sig were writing this review, he would say something like "rrow yummy prrr."

Brother Thelonious is, apparently, one offering in the American Artisan Series. As far as I can tell, though, the only other offering is Le Merle Belgian Style Farmhouse Ale also brewed by North Coast. Unlike most Belgian beers, Brother Thelonious is subtle. Not subtle as a euphemism for not having any flavor, but subtle as in not drowning the drinker in a sea of coriander and orange peel and "spice." At first I taste mild cloves, which then fade into a sort of rasiny flavor. The raisins linger while a molasses and anise chord are struck. The finish tastes of peculiar rotten fruit; maybe the result of the beefy 9.4% ABV. I can't say that I'd dish out the big bucks to enjoy Brother Thelonious, but it is a great gift treat. The gift-giver can feel good about himself, too; part of the proceeds from each bottle of this abbey ale go to the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz.

Lagunitas Brown Shugga'

'Tis the season to drink high ABV barleywines and stouts! Though Lagunitas' "Brown Shugga'" Ale is neither (although it is apparently the result of a failed batch of Lagunitas' barleywine "Old Gnarleywine"), it's 9.99% ABV and limited seasonal availability make it a fitting beer for the times.

The bottle vaguely describes the brewing process by stating, "Feeding Brown Cane Sugar to otherwise Cultured Brewery Yeast is a'kin to feeding Raw Shark to your Gerbil." My experience with other alcoholic beverages brewed with raw cane sugar has been very mixed. Chicha, one of the most popular traditional drinks in Nicaragua, is made by adding bricks of unrefined brown sugar each day to feed wild yeast strains in a 5-gallon bucket of water and sprouted corn to yield a highly alcoholic "Chicha Bruja," or "witch's chicha." Some batches of chicha bruja are sweet, smooth, and fruity. Some batches taste like thick corn alcohol and give you the shits for two days after drinking just 8 ounces. Thankfully, the results of enjoying a 12 ounce bottle of Brown Shugga' are not the same.

Brown Shugga' is, as the name might suggest, very sweet. It isn't sweet like a malty stout. It is sweet like an apricot tart that had an extra cup of sugar accidentally dumped into the baking pan that caramelized all over the treat. The 10% ABV lingers quietly, but unmistakably behind the sugary sweetness. Not surprisingly given its origins, the grain palate is almost identical to a barleywine. Yep, Brown Shugga' is basically a super-sweet, caramely barleywine. A 6-pack will run about $10, but is a great way to get socially awkward crowds to open up a little bit.

North Coast Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout

Interesting anecdote about Rasputin: "Allegations of sexual misconduct were no doubt encouraged by his frequently embarrassing drunken behavior; on one occasion documented by a History Channel documentary he is said to have opened his pants and waved his penis in front of shocked diners at a Saint Petersburg restaurant whilst inebriated." It is only fitting, then, that a deliciously potent 9% ABV stout be named in his honor.

Old Rasputin has long been one of my favorite stouts. The alcohol content is high enough that a 12 ounce bottle will typically warm you up just enough to stave off the winter chills. The taste is that of roast grain and dark chocolate: slightly bitter, but rich and thick. I'm also a fan of the short, stocky bottles (also used by Sierra Nevada, Lagunitas, and other mostly west coast breweries) as opposed to the dominant 12 ounce long neck. A four pack will set you back about $7, but the warming effect of the brew will likely offset your heating bill by at least $2 per bottle, so you're essentially earning $1 each time you by a case. At least that is how I've rationalized my consumption...

Aventinus Wheat Doppelbock

Apparently, Aventinus brews this wheat doppelbock "according to the Reinheitsgebot." For those of you who are not aware (myself included), "Reinheitsgebot" translates roughly to "Bavarian Purity Law" and was historically used to restrict the German beer-making ingredients to hops, barley, and water. I did not know this fact at the time I purchased the Aventinus Wheat Doppelbock, but the large, foreign word impressed me enough to buy the 16.9 ounce bottle for $4.19.

The bottle claims that the beer has "received accolades for the perfect balance of fruity spiciness (banana, clove, vanilla) and notes of chocolate." Clove is definitely the most predominate taste, but an easily perceptible chocolate-Twizzler flavor accompanies the spice. As the beer warms and the effects of the 8.2% ABV manifest themselves on an empty stomach, the doppelbock begins to taste more and more like the scented candle aisle at Michael's or JoAnn's Fabric. Not such a good, or pure, way to end, but it was enjoyable until the last four ounces or so.

St Sebastiaan Golden Ale

Ok, I'll admit it. I bought this beer mainly because of the attractive limited edition silk-screened bottle and artsy booklet that was attached. I don't dislike Belgian style ales, but I rarely drink them aside from a Blue Moon at the burger place in Davis every now and then. So, doling out $12 for a 16.9 ounce bottle of St Sebastiaan's Golden Ale was, essentially, an impulse buy.

Like most Belgian ales, this one smells like peaches and tastes "like potpourri, but in a good way," according to my girlfriend. The typical coriander and citrus hit heavy with a clove-laced floral assault. My initial thought was that it tasted like a perfumey cleaning product, but the harshness fades and the complex flavor array lingers pleasantly and easily hides the 7.6% ABV. It's a bit too musky and heavily spiced for my liking, but St Sebastiaan's Golden Ale wouldn't be bad if it were $8 a pint cheaper.

The bottle is really pretty, though.

Ninkasi Oatis Oatmeal Stout

Back-2-back stouts! I had never heard of Ninkasi Brewing Company out of Eugene, Oregon until last week. The brewery was mentioned in one of the anonymous comments written in the monthly food co-op newsletter where people bitch about a low supply of fair-trade organic sustainably harvested filberts and that the energy efficiency of the dairy aisle could be improved by killing all dairy consuming beings. The response to why the co-op did not carry Ninkasi beer mentioned that their brews were "delicious," which of course piqued my curiosity.

After taking the dog on a hike north of Sacramento, we stopped at the Citrus Heights Beverages and More! to stock up on, well, beverages (but no more!). Though the co-op's beer distributor can't provide it, BevMo! had a hearty supply of 22 ounce bottles of the Ninkasi Oatis Oatmeal Stout for $3.99 a piece. Maybe if those filthy hippie Davis Food Co-Op patrons weren't so opposed to driving a few miles for tasty beer, they wouldn't have to complain about not being able to find Ninkasi in the monthly newsletter.

The stout lives up to the hype. Ninkasi's stout is slightly smoother and less acidic than the Rogue Chocolate Stout. There is still a roasted coffee taste, but it is more subtle than the Rogue version. The 7.2% ABV is completely hidden and gives Ninkasi a clear win in the alcohol:cost ratio category when pitted against Rogue.

Pairs well with 2-week old roast peahen stew.

Rogue Chocolate Stout

I don't often like to talk about how a beer smells, unless it wreaks of death or has a really crisp fruity nose. However, Rogue's Chocolate Stout smells good. Really good. Opening the bottle is like plugging in a Glade air-freshener that is roasted coffee, dark chocolate, oatmeal, and malt scented instead of something like "Spring Meadow."

The taste is essentially just like the scent. The stout is thick, but not syrupy. The acidity of coffee (I don't think there is actually coffee in this, but maybe the taste comes from the roasted barley) nicely accompanies the bitterness of the chocolate and the sweet malt. I wouldn't say that this is as good as the Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary Stout or even Port's Old Viscosity Ale (review forthcoming), but Rogue turns in a solid performance on their $5.99, 6.3% ABV bomber.

PS- The other blog contributors need to drink and/or write more.

Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Jack and Ken's Black Barleywine Ale

I'm always excited when I get a beer in a corked 25.4 ounce bottle. Not only does it bring back fond memories of other delectable beers, like Brooklyn Brewery's Local Number 1, but it's also just fun and sophisticated-feeling to pop open a bottle of beer. Having already thoroughly enjoyed Sierra Nevada's 30th Anniversary Fritz and Ken's Stout, I had high expectations for the 30th Anniversary Jack and Ken's Black Barleywine Ale. The brew did not disappoint.

The barleywine is nearly black and produces a thick, creamy head. My first sip inspired the comment, "holy shit, this tastes like a stout." Jack and Ken's Ale is super smooth and grainy sweet with a slight alcohol finish (which shouldn't be a surprise given its 10.2% ABV). It definitely tastes more like a barleywine as it warms, but it retains that stouty roast chocolate undertone in its flavor assault.

In summary, this beer is yummy. Quit pinching pennies and drop the $10 to buy a bottle of this and another $10 for the Fritz and Ken's Stout, if you can still find it.