I’m a bit more than halfway through my tasting array from Rock Bottom Brewery, and next up to play is the Trente ans Blonde Saison. I’m a sucker for Saisons and anything Belgian in general, so I am looking forward to giving this lil baby a whirl through the Kristyn Tasting Tester; aka my palate.

A slow stream of carbonation is surprising to see considering it has probably been a good hour since I started working my way from the light end of my sampler to the heavy and complex end. Keeping that in consideration, I don’t know whether to be worried or assured about the steady stream of bubbles screaming for the surface of my taster glass. On the other hand, she still maintains a solid white head of fluff which rests atop a light haze of golden straw. Her nose is all about lemon, lemon cream, and citrus esters in general. Coriander and white pepper spice things up while steaming rolls of golden white emerge from the oven for my snarfing pleasure. Yes, I love all things bread, especially when they are artisanally crafted from all-natural ingredients and flavored with lots of TLC. A gentle breeze carries very faint banana esters, and then there were none. The Saison from Dupont Brasserie is still my quintessential Belgian Saison, but within the style itself there is ample room to play and explore. As soft as her nose, so too was her mouthfeel, a veritable cloud of lemon meringue and soft white breads kissed ever so lightly with banana. Coriander and white pepper linger in my breath after flittering about her gentile and uplifting palate. Her clean finish, spice included, is exquisitely refreshing, bringing me back to my taster time and again, faster and faster. If I’m not careful, I am liable to finish my glass before I am ready. Nearing the finish, her spice profile flexes its muscles while more golden dinner rolls roll out of the oven, piping fresh, and awaiting a final kiss of honey. Tasty. A fine Belgian-style saison if I do say so myself.

Being a native Floridian, I would have no trouble quaffing the Trente ans Blonde Saison from Rock Bottom Brewery any day of the week, especially during our long warm summer months. So far, this has been my favorite of the Rock Bottom Brewery Chicago beers that I have tried. With four more to go, will she hold her spot on top or will she be toppled from her place of power? Only time and four more reviews will tell.

Most associated with its distilled cousin, rye can also be a highly prized contributor to the wide world of beer; offering a unique array of aromas and flavors which I personally find highly enjoyable, both in whisky and in beer. And so it is with great relish that I prepare to savor the Belgian Rye P.A. from Rock Bottom Brewery. A hybrid of Rye and Belgian strong ale inspiration, I have really no idea what to expect at this point.

Orange and amber swirls under a splotchy white head broken up by bubbles large and small. A thick collar leaves lacey trails upon some playful swirling which, in turn, relinquishes a nose ripe with rye delights. Looking at my tasting notes, “god, I love rye in beer” is my first written thought upon smelling his nose. Rye spice and sweet malt tease and delight while in the background a fruit bowl is overflowing with freshly sliced peaches, apricots, and pears. Weaving in and out of each aroma is spice typical to rye; peppery, crunchy, and just a wee bit ticklish to the senses. Caramelized sugars create a subtle undercurrent of maple and caramel crunchies upon which I would gladly dip my feet. Instead, I dip my lips and tongue for a sweet, bready first quaff. Caramel and maple coat my lips while my mouth fills with liquid rye bread. Immediately, pepper, spice, and whole rye seeds crunch and spark little firecrackers of flavor across my tastebuds. A heavy sweetness holds his finish firmly in place with even richer notes of chewy caramel and maple nougats. Unlike his nose, a dry presence of rye breads, grains, and whole seeds are a solid stage upon which his palate performs. Furthering our quaffing adventure, my palate continues to dry to an extreme that is turning out to be rather uncomfortable. I’m not sure whether to attribute it to the rye or the Belgian aspect of the beer, but the dryness is slowly but surely overwhelming his palate. A few more quaffs and my taster is emptied of his Belgian Rye P.A. contents, and I am left with mixed feelings of satisfaction and disappointment.

From beginning to about two-thirds of the way through, he was a shining star of Belgian strong ale and hoppy rye delights, but for the last third of his performance, things fell apart. If the finish could be tweaked to correct the abrasive and eventually overwhelming hard dryness, this would be an easy no-holds-barred winner in my book of rye love. But for now, he still has some work to do.

I may have had a selective memory when it came to school and classes back in the day, but of the few subject matters I enjoyed most, history was and still is one of them. Whether or not the Vikings suffer a bad rap, there is no doubt that one of their most memorable figures is Erik the Red, a goliath amongst giants back in those rough and tumble days. Though we may look down on them now as uncouth, barbaric, and vicious, the Vikings lived in, tamed, and explored far more of the world then our supposedly civilized ancestors did hundreds of years later after the fact. When all that awaits is the cold bitter misery of long hard days, little reward, and a high risk of death, good ale was relished as heaven’s rightful gift to the worthy. The days of Erik the Red and the Vikings may be long past, but in their wake we get to enjoy a self-styled amber ale, Erik the Red Ale.

Perfectly clear copper and red depths shimmer before me while a thick collar of white sucks all the foam away from his center. That’s ok, because a head would just get in the way of his nose which is ready and raring to conquer my senses. Grass and pine hit first, uniquely enough, before immediately giving way to melba toast glazed in caramel and maple then toasted once more to crunchy golden perfection. Heavy loaves of real bread, rich in doughy esters match up with red apple skins and more crystallized sugar sweetness. Each time I surrender my nose to his assault, hops hit first followed by malts. Wading past his front assault, I make way for the center of attack and dive into his coppery amber depths. Crisp, dry, and hoppier than expected for a Scotch-inspired red ale. Hops attack in the front and middle with pine and grass for a bitter, prickly sensation atop my tastebuds. Even more intriguing is how the pine and grass melds perfectly into caramel and maple glazed melba which, subsequently, dries my palate more than his hop profile. A subdued candied fruit sweetness reminiscent of candied apples and cherries coat my lips after each quaff. With my next quaff, it’s right back to grassy and piney hops followed by more melba toast, caramel, and maple sweetness. Lighter than some, Erik the Red Ale has proven to be a most intriguing, albeit different, amber ale.

Now at all what I was expecting, but enjoyable none-the-less.

Hefeweizens, how I love thee... as long as you taste like a hefeweizen should taste: ripe with pungent banana, clove, bread, bubblegum, and spice. Seeing as Rock Bottom is about 50/50 so far in hits and misses, I am hoping against the usual craft brew reality that their Rotating Wheat Hefeweizen is, indeed, a hefeweizen.

A darker than usual haze gazes back at me from the safe confines of his tasting glass while streaking along the sides are oranges and ambers. A white collar sticks stiffly to the sides while his nose reaches out to soothe my woes. Yeast, an explosion of bananas, tutti-frutti, and bubblegum envelope me in all that a hefeweizen rightfully should. The bananas are especially pungent, ranging from ripe to over-ripe and mushy to the touch. Banana bread rises in the oven as cloves permeate the air. A sprinkling of nutmeg and pecan is the perfect garnish to my awaiting bready delights. Encouraged by his nose, I dive right into his inviting depths to come up for air only when I absolutely had to. Bananas and cream, large chunks of banana bread, and a whiff of tutti-frutti make me feel right at home. The front and back are mild and clean with all of his gusto hitting hard in the middle with more banana and cloves while nutmeg and pecan decorate the finish for what they are worth. The further I quaff, the more the top of my tongue tickles and tingles under his flavor assault. It is borderline uncomfortable, and really the only element detracting from this otherwise good German-style hefeweizen from Rock Bottom Brewery.

So many craft breweries will label their beer “hefeweizen” when in reality it is just an average wheat beer. Rock Bottom Brewing did their Rotating Wheat Hefeweizen and the long-standing German heritage it modeled proud. Not the greatest, but definitely one of the better ones.

I raved about this moment in my review of Rock Bottom Brewery herself, and here I am now to lavish once more praise upon my virgin cask-ale experience. Having just supped the standard Chicago Gold, I turned my eager attentions upon the Cask-Conditioned Chicago Gold. To clear up some standard confusion in regards to cask condition beer: it is not flat. Instead, whereas one is used to artificially and highly carbonated beers, both in keg and in the bottle, all cask-conditioned carbonation is a 100% natural byproduct of the beer’s maturation as the yeast eats the sugars, producing alcohol, and releasing its waste as natural gas. Bottle-conditioned beers are a bit of a hybrid, considering they usually sport more carbonation than a cask-conditioned beer, but far less than one that relies wholly on injected carbon dioxide. As a result of their 100% naturally fermented carbonation, cask-conditioned beers (usually ales of some variety) lack the overly rambunctious bubbles in favor of a palate as smooth as silk thanks to carbonation on an epically microscopic level.

Straw gold with a subtle haze rests underneath a soft comforter of white. Oh yes, just because she is cask-conditioned doesn’t mean she won’t have any head to speak of. Gazing in wonder at my brand new friend, I breathe extra deep and savor with eyes closed a rich aroma of yeast, whole grain and rye breads warm from the oven, oranges, lemon and cream, and peach. Rich and velveteen, each aroma melts into the other with silken precision for a true work of art. Even knowing I was in for a palate adjustment with my first quaff, I was still taken back by the 1) lack of abundant carbonation and 2) silky smooth mouthfeel. She glides across my mouth like butter, without the butter flavor of course. Another quaff in, as I open my palate up to her, so too does she open her palate up to me. Lemons and peaches tingle with tartness, followed in turn by their meaty sweetness. Grass hits with clean bitter precision in the back of my throat while brown spices dance in the middle. Mixed in with the spice are subtle essences of herbs; thyme and basil come to mind. I am absolutely thrilled with each quaff, and even knowing she is my first cask ale and thus prone to biased excitement, I simply don’t care right now. There are no big bubbles to interfere with her flavor, allowing my palate to revel in the naturally soft current of microscopic carbonation which gives her an additional weightlessness. Lemon and peach mingle, grass cleanses, and in the middle I savor fresh spices and herbs. On a separate note, I am amazed how cask-conditioning totally changed the Chicago Gold from a so-so beer to a lipsmackingtastic beer.

You know the saying “can’t have just one”; well that is me and cask-conditioned ales. I am in love, though no more in love than with all other beers in general. Same love, different form would be the best way to describe it at the moment. In the meantime, should you ever be in Chicago visiting the Rock Bottom Brewery, be sure to get your own love from whatever their latest and greatest cask-conditioned beer.

Continuing my Rock Bottom Brewery escapades, I move on to their Chicago Gold, a self-styled Golden Ale/Blonde Ale which will hopefully do a better job of satisfying my crave for flavor.

She poured rich shades of gold and straw, a sight for sore eyes indeed. Orange shimmers about as the light pokes through crystal clear depths resting under a full white head. Ironically, the head is thicker in the middle than around the sides of the glass. Dipping my nose into the white fluff, I wallow in sweet rolls, Hawaiian rolls, green grass, and lemon pith. A very soft nose, there is a pervasive sense of dampness in the air, almost as if I am surrounded by the dew of early morning. Still mild, though a far cry better than the Line Drive Light, I discover an equally soft and smooth mouthfeel. Honey sweetness flitters in and out of my line of taste while holding steady in the middle are Hawaiian rolls, sweet rolls, and white bread. A quick kiss of bitterness in the back disappears just as fast, leaving behind whispers of green grass and lemon pith. There is little else to discover as I work my way to the bottom of my tasting glass.

Meh. The wonderfully soft mouthfeel impressed me the most, lifting the Chicago Gold a wee bit higher on the tasting scale than she would have been without.

I don’t know whether to be amused or disturbed by the fact that at least a month after I did my write-up on the Rock Bottom Brewery in Chicago am I finally getting around to reviewing the beers I tasted there. And so here I am to start putting my thoughts down on the nine Rock Bottom beers that I tasted, starting with their Line Drive Light. After all, when tasting, whenever possible, progress from least complex to most complex.

I’m not a fan of light beers but am always willing to give them a chance, even though the taster glass of Line Drive Light staring back at me is awfully pale in pallor. I hope she doesn’t faint from loss of aroma and flavor before I can get to her aid. Very little head remains to take note of, and what little teasing I did produced not an iota of improvement. On the other hand, her nose is rather well-rounded for a light beer. Lemon and straw mingle together while soft white breads hold her frail form together. Mild, but with more to smell than some others I am not going to bother listing here. Her mouthfeel is soft, much like the white breads that make up a good portion of her palate. Blanched straw add to the soft bready mouthfeel and flavor while lemon tickles the top of my tongue, barely. No discernable hop character, just that faint shiver of lemon which disappears as quickly as it appears. Expectedly, a clean and therefore bland finish which thankfully doesn’t suffer from any acrid bitterness. In fact, a surprising final kiss of cream and white bread lingers for a few after each quaff right up till the very end.

For a light beer, pretty much the same-old same-old which is the same not much of anything. The Line Drive Light from Rock Bottom wins a few extra points for pleasant mouthfeel and a decent finish, but as is the goal with all light beers, the lack of any real aroma or flavor is always an expected disappointment for me. There is absolutely no reason, tradition and cultures have proven this time and again, that a small/mild beer has to sacrifice character and flavor to achieve sessionability.


whiffer

Mwahahahaha!!! I have before me one of my favorite pleasures in life: beer aged in bourbon barrels. Oh yeah! Bring it on! I accept that challenge! A new brewery for me, Barley Island Brewing hails out of Noblesville, Indiana, and is about to grace my glass with the Beastie Barrel Porter.

A glorious sight sits before me; burnt browns, earthen blacks, and slivers of mahogany toss tantalizing glances my way. Dark khaki puffs laze about as if they too know what dark riches lurk below. Little lace to speak of, but her head lingers throughout our slow session together. Shy is not her middle name. Before I even have time to raise said glass to my nose, bourbon reaches out to grasp me in a cozy hug of tannins, vanillin, licorice, and bourbon. Breathing deep, I savor even more bourbon which is undercut by the most decadent of European chocolates. In the back of her nose is freshly charred wood reminiscent of a cooperage at work, barrels receiving their blessing of smoke and fire. Rising from the smoke and fire are mouthwatering cinders of sweet smoke, burnt sugars, and caramel. Yum! Shy isn’t my middle name either, and I waste no time diving into her dark depths to make sweet love to bourbon, wood, and porter decadence. Rich, creamy, and silky smooth, she glides across my tastebuds like an angel descended. Melted chocolates ride atop a wave of licorice and vanilla, drying my palate with subtle ease. Lingering in her long finish is bourbon and vanilla-tinged warmth along with a touch of char. Each quaff continues to ooze bourbon while her porter namesake savors the show. Vanillin and tannin, bourbon and caramel, spice and warmth, licorice and char: my heart, body, and soul are truly rich.

Bourbon barrel-aged beers, how I love thee… And though some may disagree, tasting the bourbon is most certainly not a detriment. The Beastie Barrel Porter from Barley Island Brewing was right up my alley-o-bliss from which I feel no desire to return any time soon. If you can find a bottle or two or three, be greedy and bring them all home with you. Trust.


ride em cowgirl

Once more I am confronted by an age old nemesis: fruit in beer. By now all should be familiar with my understandable leeriness when it comes to fruit-flavored/infused/bastardized beers. For every good fruit beer I taste, I probably taste a dozen bad ones. Such is the name of the game though. At least what I have before me this time comes from a reputable brewery, Great Divide, and the beer in question is their Wild Raspberry Ale.

She descended unto my glass with a huge head of bubbly carbonation, leaving clumps of lace clinging desperate to the sides of my glass while a nose of gentle raspberries and cream tickle. There is decent weight to her nose which smells exactly like someone whipped up some fresh raspberries and cream just for me. Gentle tartness nips playfully in the back of my nose while soft pie crust represents. Light and clean, I am disturbed by an unusually large amount of carbonation which overwhelms her palate and mine. While her nose smelled of fresh raspberries and cream, her palate instead has a definite taint of artificial raspberry sugar syrup mixed in with the fresh whole raspberries. Continuing my seltzeresque quaffing journey, I discover little else. Very un-complex and rather unappealing, each quaff is an uber-bubbly mix of artificial and natural raspberries that are simply underwhelming. As much as I enjoy the majority if Great Divide’s other beers, I’d have to put this one solidly in the “fail” category of fruit beers.

When there are so many other good beers from Great Divide to choose from and to consequently drink, I see little reason for anyone to go back to their Wild Raspberry Ale, much less try it for the first time. She was neither wild nor exciting; moving on.


not even a label change could save her

Bier de Garde and Saison are two totally different beer styles that share a similar promise: to be a beer of the seasons to store and enjoy when harvest comes once more. I read and taste of Saisons all the time, yet rarely do I have a chance to taste a Bier de Garde from her home region of Pas-de-Calais, France, or an endearing tribute by a craft brewer. Such was the case with the Domaine duPage from Two Brothers Brewing, a self-styled Bier de Garde out of Warrenville, Illinois.

Perfectly polished copper and amber rests under an equally appealing copper and orange head. Her pithy fluff lingers long through our session together where, upon some gentle teasing and a generous dip of the nose, I am enveloped in Bier de Garde wonders. Grass and key lime snap to attention first and then lead me by the nose to red plums, maraschino cherries, caramel, maple, apricot, nectarine, and peach. None too cloying, her nose is bright, light, and uplifting. Wasting no more time, I prepare to hopefully savor the first of many quaffs. Subtly sweet, my lips and mouth are coated in caramel and maple while a full body and creamy mouthfeel reveals an intense palate of unexpected proportions. Washington apples and caramel nougats play together while her finish is bitter and dry with dead grass and rotten fruit skins. Wait, rotten? The more I quaff, more pervasive dank funk continues to overpower her palate. The finish turns waxy and rotten with turned orange skins and old bananas more black than yellow. Any trace of her promised nose has been killed by pervasive rotten fruit and dank grain. Considering how ripe her nose smelled compared to how she tasted, the Domaine duPage from Two Brothers Brewing was a truly perplexing disappointment.

Bier de Garde are wonderful beers that are unfortunately not represented nearly as much nor as well as the Belgian Saison. There are good ones to be found though, both from Belgium herself and from other craft breweries elsewhere. As for this one in particular, avoid her well for she does no justice to the honored tradition of Bier de Garde.


back to the drawing board

December is officially here, and yet I sit here reviewing a Christmas beer I had previously tasted back in September. Personally, I don’t mind because good beer is good beer, whether it’s styled for a season or not. And so I was pleasantly confronted with the Equinox, a dark Belgian winter ale from Brasserie de La Senne. A new Belgian brewery and a new beer equals win-win in my book, being the Belgian beer geek that I am.

Hazy browns under a voluminous khaki hued head fade into a comforter of velvet while loose lace stick to the sides of my glass. This is one eager beer; already I am enveloped in a nose ripe with the winter season in Belgium. Toffee and toast meet-up with figs and prunes while pumpernickel and rye bread mingle. I am immediately reminded of the pumpernickel and rye swirled bread we used to get from the bakery while I was growing up; good stuff. A slow and soft undercurrent of chocolate tempts while black root and licorice bring me back down to earth. Since there is no such thing as a Christmas style, I would pin the Equinex as a quintessential and typical Belgian ale based on her nose, seasons need not necessarily apply. Being a bottle-conditioned lass, her mouthfeel is soft and chewy with gentle effervescence. Her dark fruits capture my attentions first with meaty and moist prunes, dates, and plums for a mix of sweet and tart. Already warmth slowly exerts her presence in my chest and the back of my throat. A mild bitterness lingers while chewy raisins add to her meaty palate. The further along we traverse, I note a subtle use of woody esters mingling with the pits of their dark fruit companions. No chocolate is to be found as there was in her nose, and I find that, overall, her palate is much simpler than her nose implied.

The Equinox was an alright Christmas offering from Brasserie de la Senne, but her palate was quite lacking in what her nose had promised. This is definitely a case where she smelled richer than she tasted. By no means a drainpour, but don’t expect anything all that exciting either.


night is falling

Ever watch Little House on the Prairie growing up? Yep, me too. Even read the books, believe it or not…though most who know me would easily believe that. Being a children’s series so-to-speak, there was little mention of drink, specifically beer, though it should be known that they grew grains, barley being one of them I am pretty sure. In a historical context, they most certainly would have made use of excess grains to brew beer for themselves and even possibly for sale to bring in a few extra dollars when needed. All of this is leading up to the beer I had before me not too long ago from Two Brothers Brewing called Prairie Path Golden Ale. Amazing how mental associations work, no. He probably doesn’t resemble the brew they would have drunk then, but it’s still fun to imagine. Thankfully, I can do more than just postulate with the Prairie Path Golden Ale; I get to drink it.

He filled my glass with clear straw and gold while a meager head of white fades rapidly into an equally meager collar. His nose fairs better with a decent showing of spice, honeycomb, harvested grains, orange, peach, and lemon. All the aromas were balanced and well-integrated, making it quite easy to imagine oneself standing amidst rolling fields of golden grains with a glass of this equally golden ale in hand. My first quaff is crisp and bright with a kiss of fruity sweetness. Honey drizzled atop freshly sliced mango and peaches delight while spice lingers in the background. A platter of golden brown toast offers up his full support while grass and straw slowly dry my palate. Aiding in their mission is orange rind and pith for an extra touch of bitterness and dryness. Clean in the front, fruity and sweet in the middle, toasty underneath, and dry in the finish with a lingering breath of spice. Subtle and complex at the same time, he was a solid session ale with which to enjoy the harvest season.

The Prairie Path Golden Ale from Two Brothers Brewing wasn’t anything too original, but it was well played and properly balanced. For my first foray into this brewery’s beers, I must say I was rather pleased.


oh give me a home

Guinness has done much for the world of dark beers and Irish stouts, both good and bad, but Guinness isn’t the only player in the Irish stout world. Another such example is the O’Hara’s Irish Stout from Carlow, Ireland. No nitro-can need apply, just a standard 12oz brown bottle of Irish heritage.

He poured blacker than I was expecting, though when held up against light one can still make out dark brown and burnt garnet hues. A puffy cappuccino head leaves a rocky path of foam and lace in his path, making way for a nose in desperate need of some assistance. Dipping me nose deep into the glass more out of necessity than habit this time, I am finally able to discern faint notes of licorice along with raisins and plums. There is a pervasive undercurrent of stale and burnt toast with little else to tell. We’re not off to a very good start unfortunately, but there is still the palate. A couple deep quaffs and much like his nose, I have to work hard to discern what meager offerings his palate presents. A thin body and mouthfeel reveals equally thin flavors of prunes, red plum skins, black cherries, and licorice. A bit on the watery side, there is an intriguing tart kick in the back of each dry quaff. Very mild and very basic, I’m on the fence with this one. Neither bad nor good, he’s not much of anything. I finish my glass because in the very least, he isn’t offensive to my sensibilities.

Meh. I’ve had worse, but I’ve most certainly had better. I’m not one to laud Guinness because, quite frankly, it’s overrated. But right about now, I’d rather have a pint of ol’ reliable.


nothing to write home about

I do believe that this is the 2nd Leelanau beer I have tasted so far. The first one was at my very first RateBeer throwdown at a good friend’s house here in Vero. Fast forward about 2 years, and I have once more before me another Leelanau beer. Even better, it is a contract brew for Leelanau by Jolly Pumpkin which means I have barrel-aged sour goodness to look forward to. Some may like theirs sweet, but I’ll take woody and sour any day of the week, thankyouverymuch.

Deep oranges and coppers wink seductively at me from behind her glass window as a slow haze settles in. A massive head slowly settles into a velveteen blanket of equally enormous proportions. Lurking near the bottom are scattered dregs while reaching out to me is a nose ripe with tart and funk. Be still my beating heart. Grapefruit rind, and lemon skins tantalize while water crackers crunch silently. Weaving in and out of her citrusy aromas is tartness and the earthen funk of leather, sawdust, old baled hay, and sour fruits. Lip-smacking delicious if I do say so, despite my lips having not touched hers yet. That is about to change though, right…about…now. Bubbly effervescence gives her palate buoyancy, enhancing the lemon pith and tart fruit skins dancing playfully atop my tastebuds. Immediately my palate dries in long-lasting earth, funk, sawdust, leather, and old hay. Her massive head leaves gorgeous trails of lace along the sides of my glass as I lustily work my through her curves. The front of her palate is bright with lemon and grapefruit while underneath all her Brett delights work their funky magic. Refreshing, satisfying, and thirst-inducing all at the same time, I rightfully come back for more again and again until disaster strikes: my glass is empty, and so is the bottle. Thankfully, my breath remains ripe with citrus, leather, and barnyard funk. Tasty.

The Petoskey Pale Ale may have been a Leelanau contract brew, but by choosing Jolly Pumpkin as their brewer of choice, it is equally a Jolly Pumpkin beer. Those wonderful wood barrels that Jolly Pumpkin matures all their beers in definitely had a say in the final character of the Petosky Pale Ale, a most agreeable one at that.


when in doubt

It’s a wee bit hard to do a pub crawl in Florida at the moment, though depending on where one is at, not as hard. But the unfavorable majority far out-rules the favorable minority in this case. All the more reason for me to road-trip more often, but in the meantime, I suffer total suckerability when it comes to brews with the word “pub” in the name. For example, sitting before me is the Pub Dog Imperial Dog IPA from Claypipe Brewing Company. I know absolutely nothing about this beer except it’s an Imperial IPA I haven’t had before and “pub” is in the name. Irrational though it may be, tis all the reason I need to be pumped and ready to try this beer.

He pours deep ambers atop polished mahogany. Very little head to speak of, though with a few encouraging swirls, a cottony blanket tries to impress before fading into a thin collar. Looks aren’t necessarily everything, and in teasing his meager head I released a bastion of mouth-watering aromas. Endless fields of green grass abound, their eager blades basking in the warm sunlight beaming down upon them while someone somewhere is tilling the earth in preparation of Fall’s bounty. Orchards of red apples and apricots ready for the picking fill the air with tantalizing aromas while toffee dances about. Not bad, though I also detect a faint tinge of old wood and leather underneath. Moving in for the kill, my first quaff is sweet and clean in the front with sun-soaked and sated green grass planting themselves square on top of my tongue. Every crook and cranny of his palate has a cleanliness and crispness that makes each delicate flavor snap to attention. Adding to his pleasure are juicy grapefruits and lemons while oranges and tangerines await their moment in the spotlight. Holding it all up is melba toast golden brown and glazed in toffee. Quaff and repeat. I thankfully detect none of the old wood and worn leather, just a clean, crunchy, sweet, grassy IPA of extreme drinkability.

Rather sessionable for an Imperial IPA, if I do say so myself. I can only imagine how perfect a few glasses of the Pub Dog Imperial Dog IPA would be whilst lazing at the local; feet dangling from the bar stool while soaking in the relaxed social ambience. Yes, when chilling at the pub, brew in hand; all is well with the world. In fact, I think I’ll have another.

To taste just one Meantime beer in a day’s time is a wonderful treat in and of itself. To be able to taste two Meantime beers in a day’s time is a miraculous blessing. And so it was while in Chicago that I tasted after long last two highly coveted beers: Meantime IPA and currently, the Meantime London Porter.

The Meantime London Porter was in an appropriate 750ml corked bottle with an equally simple and classy label. With a pop and a hiss, he burbled eagerly into my glass, settling in under a khaki head with burnt amber and brown highlights. His head fades in rocky patches, leaving clumps of bubbly lace scattered about. Immediately, I surrender any remaining will power to his immense nose of burnt caramel, black earth, licorice root, spent espresso grounds, steamed milk, and vanilla bean. His spent espresso grounds mingle with the burnt caramel for a shadowy reflection of previous crema glory before chocolate takes over his finish. Each aroma is backed by a solid network of charred wood and burnt toast. Lovely. Patience isn’t always a virtue of mine, and with nary a care, I begin to devour all his liquid bounty has to offer. His rich nose belied a mild mouthfeel which in turn immediately dries my palate. A burnt ashy finish is all about black bread and espresso grinds. Mild though his body may be, there is a subtle smoothness which is cream and vanilla bean delights with melted caramel and molasses mixed in. Char and black fruits (prunes especially) lurk in the back of my throat. Rich yet surprisingly not overly complex. But then again, he is a self-styled classic London Porter, and for all their ominous dark visage, they were meant to be drinkable and refreshing after a long days work. Another winner in my book, pen and paper are forsaken for the simple pleasure of reveling in my Meantime London Porter after my own long days work.

Drinking different and similar beers day-in and day-out, it can sometimes be too easy to forget the ones I had just not too long ago. It is moments like these, where I turn my tasting notes into prose and bring those memories back to life that I revisit regrettably forgotten friends. The Meantime London Porter was one of those (the IPA too), and I am most certainly going to have to have a reunion of sorts here very soon.


classic is best

I would be more openly excited about tasting the Old Suffolk English Ale from Greene King if it wasn’t for one glaringly obvious fault: clear glass bottle. An ale purportedly aged in oak vats with caramel color for that rich caramel-copper hue oft associated with single-malts, I fear what her long journey to my shores in said clear bottle has done to her original glory.

Despite of or because of her caramel color and time in oak vats, her hue is a darker shade of polished ruby and rich mahogany which shines under a coppery head. She swirls with a few patches of lace marked by rather large bubbles. Tentatively, I lower my nose into her awaiting perfume to find a surprisingly rich assortment of aromas. Pervasively sweet, I discover amidst that sweetness old molasses, wood, raisins, black plums, chocolate syrup, lightly toasted nuts, and licorice extract. Fairly decent tidings if I do say so myself. Understandable fears assuaged for now, I generously attack her liquid bounty below and discover far more wood there than I did in the nose. Wood caresses my tongue and mouth while leaving a gentle dry finish with each quaff. Molasses hides in her underbelly, thick, rich, and sticky to the touch. Interestingly enough, mingling within the hearty molasses are tart black plums not quite ripe for the taking. The interplay of sweet and tart work wonderfully together and as her wood continues to caress and dry, so too does brushed leather enter the fray. Her leathery character lingers longest on top of my tongue, and for one final surprise, a whisper of dry burnt chocolates flitter by. Quaff and repeat, the Old Suffolk Ale from Greene King is surprisingly sessionable despite her complexity, or is it the other way around? Either way, my only gripe is that they bottle it in a clear glass bottle.

I heartily recommend this beer only on the understanding that wherever you buy it, you have absolute faith and confidence that she is fresh and have been properly cared for. I shiver in repulsion as to what a skunked stale bottle of the Old Suffolk Ale would smell and taste like. Brr! Other than that, go for it.


defies the clear

In the meantime… a phrase we all commonly use is exactly what runs through my head whenever I see/hear/read about the phenomenal English craft brewery, Meantime. This small brewery is bringing both tradition and artisanal beer back to England with a twist not quite American and not quite English either. What I do know is that their beers are fantastic, a treat for all beer aficionados and newbies.

Sitting before me in a 750ml corked bottle whose design exudes simplicity and class is the Meantime IPA. Purportedly brewed and styled after the original English IPA before it faded into extinction, I’ve been looking forward to basking in the clear copper-orange nectar currently filling my glass. A boisterous head leads to generous layers of lace while in the middle she sports bubbles ranging from big and bulbous to smooth and velveteen. As her head slowly fades, I revel in a bouquet of fresh earth and green grass damp with dew. In the background, a farmer is stacking fresh bales of hay while flower petals and herbs waft on by. There is a very faint undercurrent of orange pith and hard crackers before she’s right back to fresh earth, green grass, and hop cones right off the vine. I’ll never know how close to the original East India Export IPAs of the day she comes, but if I was a thirsty expat in India, I would gladly drink of the Meantime IPA all day long based on aroma alone. My first quaff is creamy up front, followed by fresh fruit skins and then hops. It is a very orderly and balanced progression from one to the next, and the further I quaff, the more her hops open their bounty to me. Grass, flower petals, freshly picked herbs, and a backbone of crunchy hard crackers caress my tongue in quaffing bliss. Peaches play in the front and middle of her palate along with a kiss of caramel sweetness for my lips and orange cream with pith. Wait. Is that even possible? I tell it like I taste it, and in any other it would be disastrous, but with the Meantime IPA, all is well in my beery world. A higher ABV eventually leaves a tinge of warmth in my chest, but nothing overwhelming. A few more sumptuous quaffs and that be all she wrote.

Meantime has a solid line-up of beers, of which only a few are readily available in the states. I have no qualms supping on their IPA any day of the week, but I would love to see more of their beers make that overseas journey to our lands and, eventually, my fridge.


in the meantime...

Back in my beer geek newbie days, I thought the nitro-can was the coolest thing to ever happen to take-home beer. A few years later and I know better. In another flashback to my beer geek newbie days, I tasted a Greene King Abbot Ale from said nitro-can and thought it was in no way the coolest thing to ever happen to my take home beer. Suffice to say, I didn’t really like it one bit. A few years later I am find myself tasting the Abbot Ale once more, though this time with a more experienced palate so as to better realize if our first tryst was just a misunderstanding.

As a nitro-can should, he poured with the typical creamy nitrous head, a sight to behold while underneath glitters and glimmers the best polished copper has to offer. No lace to speak of, but in swirling his depths I release a creamy nose ripe with green pears, peaches, and apricot. Crunchy sweetness brings to mind toffee while whole wheat bread compliments his already soft nose. Smells better than I remember, but it could just be baseless subliminal suggestion, too. He meets my lips with creamy buttery perfection, though thankfully he doesn’t taste of butter. The texture is what comes to mind here, and it follows through atop my tongue and down my throat. Peaches, apricots, and pears hit the blender for a quick spin, their rich juices a tantalizing cacophony of succulence. Caramelized sugars and toffee are a sweet undercurrent which ends with a surprisingly clean finish. English ales are renowned for their restrained use of hops for which the Abbot Ale examples. Faint esters of dry grass and baled straw flitter in the back of each quaff. A bit on the cool side, I wouldn’t take this ale with too much time to warm up. All his flavors are brightly represented in the center of my tongue. Soft breads deserve a sprinkling of soft pecans for a supple nutty presence, and in just a few more quaffs, she is gone.

So, the Greene King Abbot Ale fared better than I remember, but then I may have had a bad can back then, too. I’d still much rather prefer to taste the Abbot Ale on draft or cask in jolly ol’ England herself, but the nitro-can was OK. I’m still not a large fan of them, since traditional bottle-conditioning would produce an equally respectable version with the added benefit of shelf-life and maturation. In the meantime, so long as you are sure your can is fresh, give the ol’ Abbot Ale from Greene King a go.


if you can

When one visits Chicago, partaking of as many Goose Island beers as possible is a must. In fact, one could almost consider it a crime if they miss out on supping on Goose’s fine brews while taking in all that the windy city has to offer while there. Of course, I am far from wanting to offend any Chicagoites or bring shame to my beer geek name, and so I supped many a Goose Island beer, one of which was the Honker’s Ale.

She poured with gusto in my glass, primping and preening coppery amber feathers while flashing a sleek white collar at me. Quite the attractive vision, if I do say so myself, and her nose is even better. Toffee and treacle sit poised above a platter of sliced red apples, caramel can apply, along with fresh cinnamon sticks. Lemon pith whispers in the back while crunchy melba offers silent support front to back. While her nose is complex in no certain way, she is sumptuously sessionable. My first quaff is sweet and dry at the same time, if such a thing is possible. Caramel and toast stand their ground while a solid undercurrent of hops blossom into grass and grapefruit esters. Red grapes and red plums sport their crisp bitter skins before releasing their succulent juicy meats inside. Delicious. Treacle and toffee are but gentle brushes across my lips before joining the melba for a crispy glazed crunch with each quaff. Quaff and repeat. Like her nose, not overly complex but just right.

There is an almost forgotten art in the construction of a truly delicious session beer, whether she is an ale or a lager variant. All beer is beautiful when, well, beautiful, and they don’t have to be ABV beasts and flavor bombs to still be enjoyable. The Honker’s Ale from Goose Island was the perfect median of both, and I’d welcome her in my fridge as a steady staple any day of the week…if she were available in Florida.


honk twice if you read this