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.

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.