Happy New Beer!

This is a time for celebrations, and some celebrations are tailor-made for a nice drink. Said Napoleon, "Champagne! In victory, one deserves it; in defeat, one needs it." While I'm not as down on champagne as Christopher Hitchens, I don't often reach for champagne when I'm thinking of celebrating. Instead, I'm much more eager for a beer, a cocktail, even a glass of wine. The thin astringency of champagne just isn't my thing, I suppose.

Goose Island Bourbon County Stout

So I'm ringing in 2011 with a few choice beers. Chief among them, the Bourbon County, from Goose Island. Make no doubt, this is a very big beer, with a ton of alcohol flavor. Most of Goose Island's offerings are nicely balanced, but the alcohol brightness (13% ABV) was in the forefront of this one. Backup notes include caramel and creaminess, but the there's a lot of vanilla in each sip (from the oak of the bourbon barrels). Some bitterness at the end (again, alcohol and dark chocolate). Great with dark chocolate. I also tried this with a very salty dark pretzel, and this beer actually intensified the saltiness. After only several sips, this beer warmed from within. Sipping only - this is heavy stuff. Very nice, but pretty tough to drink a lot of.

I'm reminded of a few other days of celebration I've experienced this year. Moving backward through the year, there were a few delightful beers over the Christmas table this year, and while I'm going to review the full Sam Adams Winter Collection later, one stands out particularly celebration-worthy. Old Fezziwig is the beer for which the Winter Sampler is really known – it’s the best of the selection by far, and represents well the jollity and festivity of its Dickensian namesake. Old Fezziwig is redolent of ginger, orange, and caramel malt, maybe some cinnamon and nutmeg as well, which also mirrors the spendthrift attitudes that got Old Mr. Fezziwig into trouble, since those spices would have been rather dear in Dickens’ time. It’s pretty great stuff, since the maltiness provides the backbone that this beer needs. Overall, there’s a good reason folks love this beer – it’s warming and fun without being cloying or muddy.

Brewery Ommegang: Three Philosophers

Further backward still, Thanksgiving was a delicious feast of turkey, stuffing, gravy, and Ommegang's Three Philosophers Quadrupel Ale. This is a wonderful blend of ale and lambic that pours slightly auburn and tastes wonderfully of cherry and raisin. Lots of yeast and some slight alcohol burn. It went beautifully with the roasted turkey and with the cranberry sauce.

And at the start of the fall, on Rosh Hashanah, I tried He'Brew's Jewbelation. Since this is He'Brew's 13th iteration of this annual beer special, the brewery celebrated their own bar mitzvah with this beer. It's pretty heavy on the tongue and in the belly, being very dark and deep. There's a mellow and sweet flavor with lovely roasted malt smoothness, but then halfway through swallowing, the alcohol kicks in and punches hard. Low carbonation in the glass and on the palate, with dull lacing left on the glass, the label says it says it has 13 types of hops and 13 types of malt. In the battle between those hops and malt, the hops definitely lose, sadly overwhelmed by malt sweetness and alcohol bite. It's pretty delicious, but it's candy-sweet and tough to drink a lot of.

So from the Jewish New Year to the Gregorian one, have a great 2011. 2010 was pretty wacky, with Lagunitas releasing its yearly reflection in the form of Wilco Tango Foxtrot. Subtitle: A Malty, Robust, Jobless Recovery Ale. It's punchy, with a lot of alcohol to sweep 2010 out the door. Nevermind that WTF (no kidding) was released in March. It's delicious, with lots of coffee and dark chocolate, with amazingly well-balanced roasted malt notes. So a swift and hearty goodbye to 2010. Raise a glass to 2011. Or several.

Departures

Last Wednesday was my last day at work. I've been working at a really fun firm in Boston for a couple months, and have truly enjoyed learning from them. I was hired over beers, and I departed over beers. And had more than a few drinks with the attorneys after hours, so really, not bad. I'm moving to New Jersey, to take a job in Newark, so this blog will certainly stay bicoastal. That is, if Mr. West Coast gets off his ass. Punk.

The founding partner of the firm is from Vermont, so I picked a Vermont beer on our first outing: Magic Hat #9. It's pretty widely available, and I recommend it. Their own marketing doesn't really help, as they describe it in really stupid terms. Nonetheless, the beer is tasty, with a pretty refreshing bitterness that's balanced nicely with a sweetness that's neither sugary nor malty. It takes a couple of sips to identify, but that's the flavor of apricot, and while I've had bad experiences lately with fruit beers (hello, Sam Adams Blackberry Wibier), #9 has been a perennial choice. Perhaps not a favorite, but not a bad one either.

I should mention that one day, when our computers were down for 30 minutes, my boss invited us to grab a beer and put our feet up. There was a Brooklyn Lager, a Bud Light, and an Anchor Steam. Boss took the Bud Light. So while yes, the bosses like beer, I think that one still drinks like a fratboy. I had the Brooklyn Lager. Delicious as always.

On the last day of work, we had our traditional Monday Morning Meeting (at 5 pm on Wednesday, natch), and we got two sixers. Brooklyn Winter Ale and Dogfish Head 60-minute IPA. The Brooklyn Winter Ale was nice and warm, with a smooth drinkability that was most welcome after a long day's work. It wasn't harsh or spicy at all, just really smooth malts and a deep caramel. As for hops, I know a lot of people tasted some hops, but I didn't. This one was just really nice and smooth.

This Brooklyn Winter was consumed at my girlfriend's house, but it's the same beer.

The 60-minute IPA was delicious too. I've tried Dogfish's 90-minute (amazing) and their 120-minute (far too sweet and weird), so I was excited to get to try the 60. It's hoppy, alright, and for my taste, this is pretty much like eating a pine cone. Basically, this is to Bud Light what the modern gins are to vodka: bright, aggressive, and unabashedly unbalanced. It's not a bad beer, and it was drinkable when ice-cold. As it warmed up, the bitterness really took over, and it got kind of undrinkable.

And then, out at the bar (and after a well-made martini with three olives), I had a nice Shipyard Prelude. I really liked this one. I was a little surprised to find it a little stronger than expected (6.8% ABV), since it didn't feel so on the tongue. It oddly tasted a bit like butterscotch (basic winter-beer caramel flavors plus maybe some unctuous fattier notes layered on top), but I also tasted some banana and raisin as well. It wasn't heavy or cloying, was refreshing without being dry, and was a great last beer to have with friends before heading out into the cold.

Magic Hat Winter Howl - nevermind the fact it's in a Harpoon glass.

Oh wait, we're having dinner? At another bar? Um, OK. Actually, we returned to the same bar (and indeed, the same table) I was at when I was hired. I'm a pretty sentimental person, so I ordered another Magic Hat, this time, the Winter Howl. It was really nice, and not nearly as heavy as might be expected from a beer that color. That said, I got lots of coffee, some dark chocolate, and maybe raisin from each sip. Too bad my steak and ale pie was so watery - the beer was delicious.

Holidays

So I feel like we've let the blog go to seed a bit, and that's a shame, because if there's one thing the Holiday season lets me do with abandon, it's drink a great variety of fun things.

We started this blog immediately after the California, New York, and Massachusetts bar examinations in July, and between the two of us, we've passed all three and obtained licensure in one. I was sworn into the Massachusetts bar two weeks ago. A classmate of mine was sworn in as well, and we went out for drinks afterward in celebration. Her father generously treated us to a delicious Schramsberg Blanc de Noir to toast our successes, and it was fantastic. There was an underlying sweetness that was brightened by a good hit of tart acid. Really enjoyed it - yay California!

We were joined by my girlfriend at the Publick House, in Brookline, MA, which serves some amazing beers, in addition to some relatively good food (mainly peasant staples, like mussels, long braises, and choucroute). My girlfriend had the Ommegang Adoration Ale. We've been having pretty good luck with Ommegang so far. If you'll recall, we tried the Abbey Ale a while back and we also drank their Three Philosophers over Thanksgiving (post to come), and we have found them all to be quite delicious. The Adoration definitely followed in that same vein - it was punchy and rich, with a lot of malt and citrus, with a molasses base that made the whole thing taste a bit like fruitcake. Unfortunately, it was about as heavy as fruitcake too, and while flavor-wise it was far too easy to drink for 10%, I am glad I only sampled it. A whole glass might have deadened my stomach.

My classmate had the Allagash White, which is a really lovely witbier from Maine. We've had it before, and it's really very milky gold in the glass. However, it has a wonderful citrus quality that lifts the palate and refreshes nicely. I think, however, it wasn't quite the season for it - when the weather gets cold, I prefer something dark and rich. The golden color of this beer made me think of, and long for summer.

Finally, I tried the Berkshire Brewing Company's Holidale. I should mention that this was supposed to be amber in color, but because of the dim lighting in the Publick House, I couldn't properly tell. At 8.5% ABV, this should have been easier on the tongue than the Adoration, but that wasn't the case. Instead, what caramel, citrus, or hops flavors were supposed to be in there were buried by a thick blanket of spicy alcohol, and it left me feeling like I was breathing fire instead of being gently warmed from within. Too bad.

I also want to mention, per the absurdity of the law, that I had the Sam Adams Winter Lager last week. It was a dark orange color, with a lot of spice. First, when cold, the spice was all from the 5.6% alcohol content, but as the beer warmed up, I got more hops, maybe some nutmeg, and definitely caramel. No cinnamon, though, which was odd, because that's the only spice the label promised. The end of the sip tastes like mulling spices, but they were very muddled and would be hard to identify separately.

What got my attention was that the label calls it a Winter Lager. This is fine, as it's a bock, which is a type of lager. However, it then says, in small print, that it is a "malt beverage brewed with spices." I'm always curious about why beer is sometimes also labeled as a malt beverage. Honestly, no idea. Finally, on the side of the label, "Ale in TX." Apparently, Texas throws out the mechanical distinctions of Ale (warm fermentation with a top-fermenting yeast) and Lager (cold fermentation with a bottom-fermenting yeast) to say that anything above 4% ABV is ale. Ridiculous.

Not Beer

Autumn really is a delightful time for drinking. Especially this autumn, which has wavered between ridiculously cold and unseasonably warm. As such, it provides for a wonderful mix of seasons that supports a wide variety of refreshment-delivery options. But of course, perhaps my partner and I have been a little blind to the possibility that there are things out there to drink other than beer. This is, after all, a blog called "Bicoastal Drinking," and not "Bicoastal Beer Drinking." So here it is: a few things that aren't beer, but are still well-worth trying out.

Last Saturday, a very good friend of mine came to town, and having heard not 24-hour prior that we had both passed the New York State Bar Exam, we were both in the mood for a celebratory drink. Thankfully, the Greater Boston Metro area is more than willing to oblige.

The Friendly Toast, near MIT, is pretty new, but it's already made quite an impression on the Cambridge crowd. A lot of folks love its hipster-bohemian decor. Not me. A lot of folks love its amazing vegetarian alternatives to their meat-laden offerings. Not me. A lot of folks love that it has a liquor license and a heavy hand with the alcohol. Bingo.

This is a full pint of bloody mary.

I can't really complain about a restaurant that sees fit to offer a bloody mary on a beautiful saturday morning in a pint glass. Not some 10.5 oz. collins nonsense so packed with ice it's a fight to put the celery back into the drink, but a nice, hefty, and strong pint. It's really spicy, with a wonderful kick of horseradish, thick specks of black pepper you can crunch between your teeth, and two nice, fat pimento olives - one that stays on the toothpick for a mid-drink nibble, and one that slides off into the drink so you have something to look forward to at the end. Plus, the food is amazing.

Now, it was warm enough last month that ice cream wasn't a total pipe dream, and J.P. Licks in Harvard Square is a staple. A lot of folks, myself included, like their black raspberry, and almost every Boston ice cream shop has coffee oreo. But last month, I had their cream stout ice cream. J.P. Licks makes all of its alcohol-flavors with real booze (November's flavor is Wild Turkey Bourbon), and this one had an awfully strong alcohol flavor for an ice cream.

J.P. Licks: Cream Stout & Coffee Ice Creams

Its sharp alcohol bite was balanced by caramel malt sweetness, but I wasn't sure if I was really tasting "stout." It really wasn't bitter enough to be stout (right, like you'd expect bitterness in ice cream?), so it really had more of the character of a stout in which a scoop of vanilla had been floated. Incidentally, that is delicious. The pairing was really a necessity: the coffee ice cream provided the absent bitterness while accentuating the roasted flavors of the "stout."

Finally, it's not really fall in New England until the cider comes out. I've already posted a photo of , but the cider itself becomes the star later in the season. A good, crisp, hard cider can be really refreshing, and my girlfriend and I thought maybe we'd found a winner or two at the store. We might have been wrong.

Is this a urine sample or a bit of hard apple cider?

Sam Smith's Organic Cider was crystal clear and the color of very, very dehydrated urine. It was really dry dry and therefore incredibly refreshing, and furthermore dangerously easy to drink. It had a lot of clean apple flavor but was a little one-dimensional. Lots of apple, not much else. Which I guess is fine if that's all you're looking for. It was, sadly, a little more like a sharp apple juice than a cider.

Hornsby's Amber Draft was like an alcoholic version of Martinelli's sparkling cider, which again, is much more of an apple juice than a cider. My girlfriend described this as a "starter" cider. For kids, I think she was referring. Terrifying. The start and finish to each sip might be called medium-dry, but the heart of the sip was basically an alcoholic jolly rancher. Ew.

Finally, Hornsby's Crisp Apple was even lighter in color, and even lighter in flavor. Gross.

Election Season, et al.

So things are going nuts in the beer world. NUTS, I tells you. Especially here in Massachusetts, where we are taking up a potentially very expensive ballot question next week. Specifically, a yes vote repeals the inclusion of alcohol under the MA state sales tax (which stands currently at 6.5%) if the alcohol in question has already been subjected to the MA state excise tax (which is a little more complicated). The measure was passed in 2009 as a budget-balancing measure, and supporters of the repeal have argued that it encourages drinkers, particularly those within driving distance of the New Hampshire border, to drive there to buy alcohol, since New Hampshire has no sales tax. WBUR recently did a great story that drew me to look closer at the excise tax, which is assessed by volume and alcohol content, rather than retail price. It's really low. Seriously. So I honestly don't have a problem with the sales tax being assessed on top of it, particularly if used to fund programs I don't want to see cut.

NPR just did an interesting story on Mexican Beer Dermatitis, which causes unsightly red splotches, swelling, and pain that lasts for weeks or even months. All because we have been conditioned to put a wedge of lime in our beer, and do so in places that encourage sun exposure and discourage washing the lime juice off of our hands. So basically, this is skin ceviche. Gross. I thought the Men of the Square Table disposed of this a long time ago.

Speaking of American macrolagers of dubious flavor content, the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals just rejected an appeal to reinstate the antitrust lawsuit against Anheuser-Busch Inbev for, essentially, being too damn big. Interestingly, the 8th Circuit sits in St. Louis, Missouri, the home of Anheuser-Busch. Nah, it's probably nothing.

Turning to beer packaging, The Lost Abbey Brewery of Southern California has gotten a stern talking-to by the Wiccan community regarding its label for Witch's Wit, a summer Belgian-style wheat beer. The contention, as reported in the New York Times is that the label either glorifies anti-witch imagery, or promotes violence against women. I am dubious of both allegations, but particularly the latter. Wrote one protestor, “Can you imagine them showing a black person being lynched or a Jewish person going to the oven? Such images are simply not tolerated in our society anymore (thank the Goddess) and this one should not be, either.” The last documented lynching occurred in 1946 (unless you believe Clarence Thomas). The holocaust ended with liberation in 1945. Burning fell out of favor as an execution method in the 18th century. Sidenote: it was not until 1878 that it was officially classified as cruel and unusual punishment. See Wilkerson v. Utah, 99 U.S. 130 (1878). So really, I don't see the hubbub. But apparently they're going to change their label. Since I collect beer labels, if anyone out there finds a bottle of this [it's pretty out of date, being a summer beer], please let me know. :)

Finally, a useful link: How to Give Your Beer the Right Glass and a Proper Pour. Great stuff.

Good, Better, Weird.

So I've managed to find a few haunts for really interesting beer. Cambridge Wine & Spirits will even sell me a single, which is great because sometimes I want to try an interesting beer I've heard about (ahem, Dogfish Head Punkin'') but am thrilled not to have the other five sitting in my fridge for the rest of eternity. I also get a chance to find a large variety, ranging from things I've ogled on menus or old favorites I'm always happy to see again.

It's great to find Young's Double Chocolate Stout in a bottle. Usually, I'm accustomed to seeing this in cans, but bottles hold more. I'm already a huge fan of this beer. It's dark and well-roasted, with hints of malt sweetness and a deep, velvety creaminess.
The chocolate flavor came out a lot more in the bottle than in the can, and it's joined by sweet vanilla, raisin, and a curious smoothness (think Guinness, but with a lot more depth). I was reminded of a tootsie roll, and if it weren't getting so cold outside, this might go well with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floated in it.

Mussels, bread, cheese, and beer

Even better was the Ommegang Abbey Ale. We tried this with a giant pot of mussels steamed in white wine and aromatic vegetables. It's delicious, with beautiful depth of fruit, caramel, and a bit of citrus. Ommegang is a seriously strong beer (8.5% ABV), but it's a perfect bottle shared between two. The flavor is unrepentantly alcoholic, but there are a lot of additional layers on top as well: great yeast, malt, plum, and caramel round out a very rich and enjoyable glass. It's pretty aggressively carbonated, which has the effect of drying out each sip to a refreshing finish despite what was surprisingly sugary start to each sip. Ommegang is wonderfully complex, with a healthy buzz to boot. We found it to have gone really well with the celery and parsley notes of the mussels, as well as with the salty and buttery steaming liquid. It was also delicious with sauteed mushrooms and brie slathered on slices of baguette, but was rather wretched with olives. Just so's you know.

Werewolf Beer. Not good, but not bad. Lobster Lovers, to the right, is bad.

Finally, the weird. Werewolf is an offering from Lithuanian brewery Rinkuškiu Alaus Darykla. And it is, along with its sister beer, Lobster Lovers, a total gimmick beer. But given how totally crappy Lobster Lover was, I was really surprised how not-totally-crappy this was. Good really isn't a word for this beer: it's still pretty off. But unlike Lobster Lover, which was basically a 9.5% ABV combination of PBR and vodka (somebody get marketing on the phone!), Werewolf was dark, had an interesting malt flavor and some bitterness as well. It's tough to drink a whole bottle of this (the bottle had an extra neck-hanger advertisement with "8.2%!" emblazoned upon it) but it was surprisingly not crappy. Surprise food pairing: Lipton onion soup dip made with sour cream - the bitterness in the Werewolf cuts through the creaminess of the dip, while the malt accentuates the artificial caramelized sweetness of the onions. I totally bought the Lobster Lover for its ridiculous label (why yes, I read Above The Law), and now this. A quick (and haphazard) perusal of their English website mentions neither of these abominations: apparently they are for idiot Americans only.

I should mention, incidentally, The Daily Beast's list of the 50 least fattening beers. None of these beers is worth drinking. Ever. Ew.

Roast Beast

I love Fall. As a New Englander, I was raised on the magic of watching leaves turn fantastic colors and the smell of burning leaf piles across the suburban landscape. What I really love about Fall is that the lower temperatures make it less of a bummer to turn on the oven and roast. Summer grilling is fun and whatnot, but only a hearty hunk of roast beast brings back all of the warmth of home. I apologize for my absence - several large projects intruded onto my time. I won't let it happen again.

I should mention, by the way, that the warmth of home thing is a total fiction - as an Asian-American, the closest my parents got to roasting on a regular basis was, maybe, a turkey at Thanksgiving, and reheating a giant honey-baked ham for Christmas. Dad's steamed fish and a big pile of authentic chow mein - that's comfort food.

But yes, roasting. I've loved roasting things since my time in the UK, where I first made a personal friendship with my butcher and discovered that meat didn't necessarily have to come in flat slices from the supermarket. So when my girlfriend and I figured on dinner options last weekend, we decided a roast would be right to christen the season. And where there is a nice English roast (with Yorkshire pudding, natch), there must be dark English beer.

Fuller's London Porter - A delicious dark beer.

I've always been a fan of Fuller's London Pride - I find incredibly drinkable, and has been a favorite since my time in the UK. This time, I tried Fuller's London Porter, which was deliciously dark. It pours ink-black, with a very shy tan head. It's got a light aroma and a flavor of full bitterness that tastes almost of burnt sugar caramel. Its great malt foundation gives way to coffee and chocolate notes. It went beautifully with sharp cheddar, as it was like a slice of toast in beer form. Most porters are a little too smooth and sweet, but this had a very pleasant and refreshing astringency at the end of each sip. The whole package gets even better when the beer warms slightly and approaches a proper serving temperature.

Roast Dinner, with Nut Brown Ale

Of course, we ended up drinking the London Porter well before the roast itself was done, being as we are gluttons. Thankfully, we had purchased a backup in the form of a Samuel Smith's Nut Brown Ale. This is a prime specimen of an English brown ale, with absolutely fantastic malt flavors and wonderfully subtle bitterness. We could not have been more pleased. The yeasty ale was a perfect match with the delicious Yorkshire pudding, while the malty caramel sweetness worked as a counterpoint to the deliciously salty crust of the beef roast. I could say maybe that the peas and roasted potatoes and onions picked up the herbal grassiness of the beer, but that's total crap - it was just good eating.

Saison du Buff. Paid $3.45. Overpaid.

I should mention also that we tried a the Saison du Buff, a special beer collaboration by Stone (Escondido, CA), Dogfish Head (Rehoboth Beach, DE), and Victory (Downington, PA). A saison beer is generally low-alcohol and very refreshing, to reflect a beer that could be drunk as a mid-day refresher during the Belgian late summer harvest season without completely wrecking the imbiber, but modern Saison beers are generally around 6%, which this one was. "Buff" is an acronym, for "Brewers United for Freedom of Flavor," but for once, I wish that they had exercised some restraint. This is brewed with the haunting combination of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme, but all I got was the sage. It's a cloudy golden beer, with a light fluffy head and a distinctly floral nose. The herbage comes through at the back of the nose, which is dominated by a musty passionfruit aroma and sweet citrus hop notes. Sadly, the flavor is entirely different, with a lot of sage and bitter hops. Wet sage really dominates, and it's not terribly attractive as a beer flavorant: sage is a wonderful herb, but when it's mistreated, it can smell almost moldy - that's a lot of what I tasted here. The thyme and rosemary disappear, and what's left smells like roses that have been left too long in the vase, or old lady. It's pretty gross, and I don't recommend it.

Beers with animal names

West Coast here, many apologies for the long absence my good friends and fellow beer-lovers. I started a new job last Monday and I’ve been settling in at work and had depressingly little to drink. That all changed this weekend though, as I enjoyed both the Blind Pig by Russian River Brewing Co. and the Shark Attack by Port Brewing Co. while watching my Hawkeyes beat Penn State.



First up, the Blind Pig. I must admit, I picked up the Blind Pig because it shares its name with a bar in the town where I went to law school. The Blind Pig is an IPA with 72 IBUs and 6.1% ABV. Russian River Brewing Company is one of those breweries on the West Coast whose star has been rising for a while, and with beer like this you can see why. It poured out a dusky, straw color with mild carbonation. The Blind Pig has a floral and hoppy nose. It’s fairly bitter, with lots of pine, hops, and alcohol in the mouth and a strong vegetal finish. The Blind Pig isn’t the best IPA I’ve ever had, but it was very solid, and based on it I’ll be drinking more of the Russian River Brewing Co.’s stuff in the near future.

Next up was the Shark Attack by Port Brewing Company. The Shark Attack was described on the bottle as a “double red ale,” whatever that means. It clocks in at 9% ABV and poured with a beautiful hazelnut color and nice foam. The nose is apples and ramen flavor-packet, make of that what you will. It has a very syrupy mouth feel, and tastes like cider with notes of apples, yeast, and cinnamon but ends with a bracing alcohol finish. The strong malt flavor overtakes the “hoppiness” you might expect from a red ale. All in all it was a thoroughly enjoying beer, and paired quite well with the pizza and football. The Shark Attack is definitely worth checking out for the unique taste and feel.

What Can Brown Do For You?

Like my West Coast colleague, I found it hard to deny that Autumn is really here. The mercury is falling, students are once again crawling over Boston, and my fantasy football team is screwed after week 1 (seriously? Losing by 2.5 points? I hate you Tony Gonzalez). It's definitely autumn again.

Oktoberfests are generally darkish lagers, but being an Ale-man myself, I went with the Sierra Nevada Tumbler Autumn Brown. It seems that Mr. West Coast is nosing in on the East Coast with a review of Dogfish Head. Right back atcha, buddy.

So yeah, this Tumbler Autumn Brown. I'm generally a Sierra Nevada fan. I like their Pale Ale. I like their Porter. I've even enjoyed their Celebration ales. And this one held such promise. It poured a nice and dark chestnut, with a deep and very long-lasting head. Oddly, there wasn't much of an aroma, but initial sips brought out some really deep roasted malt flavor. It was almost salty on the tongue, with smooth sipping and unobtrusive carbonation.

You can already see the aggressive carbonation. Honestly, I tend to pour violently in order to get a nice thick head (which tends to release a lot of beautiful aroma), so I figured I'd gotten it all out of the beer. How wrong I was...

At least, I thought it was unobtrusive. Turns out, the bubbles, for some reason, don't fully effervesce out of the beverage until it is safely locked inside one's stomach. This leads to tremendous discomfort as one inflates from the inside. Like a time-release capsule, or the beer equivalent of a double-action baking powder. One release of, well, gas in the beginning; then a second release when it's a little less welcome.

So yes. Delicious, but it made my tummy hurt. I think this is probably better on tap: that way, the carbonation gets out of the way early and harmlessly.

I also tried the Brooklyn Oktoberfest, and I'm sad to say it's not fabulous. It's nice and sort of chewy at first, with a really nice depth of toasty amber flavor. And then halfway down the pint, when it starts to warm up, citrus and bitter notes push to the fore, which are also quite welcome. Unfortunately, toward the end, the alcohol harshness took over and it got tremendously sour and unpleasant. So there you have it - 3 beers in one, two of which are pretty good, and one that sucks.

I'll be taking the suggestion in the last post and trying some of the Dogfish Head Punkin Ale soon. Fingers crossed...

It’s not you, it’s me

So, I was shopping earlier this week, and in honor of the whole Autumn thing I decided that I would pick up some pumpkin beer from one of those artfully arranged displays in grocery stores highlighting whatever is on sale. I grabbed a four pack of Dogfish Head “Punkin Ale.” This is a Dogfish seasonal beer which is 7% ABV. Dogfish has been making the Punkin Ale since 1994, starting before the brewery was even open for business.

Let me start by saying that I love a lot of Dogfish’s offerings. I think that their Chicory Stout is delicious and that their IPAs are exemplary. However, I did not enjoy the Punkin Ale. I found it incredibly sweet. The sugar and the alcohol together created the sensation of having sugar crystals biting into my tongue. It reminded me of when I was in high school and kids would eat sugar packets at the Village Inn. I definitely tasted the allspice, cinnamon and nutmeg (as advertised on the label of the bottle). There was also some malt and, as I said, lots of sugar. What was missing though was the pumpkin flavor. Now don’t get me wrong, there was a subtle undercurrent of pumpkin. But that entire delicious meaty pumpkin flavor was overwhelmed by Pumpkin Pie Spice.

Now, I'm not saying they used McCormick Pumpkin Pie Spice, just that it tasted like it. And as a baker who grinds his own spices, I guess that's a bit of trash-talk for you, Dogfish.

So, I still have 3 more bottles of Punkin Ale. I’ll give it another whirl and see how things go. I want to love Punkin Ale, but Dogfish, I think that this time it may be me, not you. You see, I’m guilty of not liking a lot of white ales anyway, and there is some flavor profile overlap with the sweet spices in this brown ale and some white ales that I’ve had before. Maybe we need a second opinion. What do you think, East Coast?

Costco? Really?

Costco makes beer. I will repeat this.

COSTCO MAKES BEER.

Growing up in Massachusetts, where blue laws continue to restrict the sale of intoxicating liquors in towns across the commonwealth, the fact that Costco even sold beer was revelatory. And now they make it? This bears investigation.

Note: Wikipedia claims that Costco is the largest retailer of fine wine in the world. Who knew?

OK, so they don't actually brew it, but it's got their Kirkland Signature logo and typical boring packaging on it. Initial reports said this was brewed by Gordon Biersch in California: the same folks who make Trader Joe's house brand. Mine, however, are from New York Brewing Company in Utica, NY, which definitely makes this an East Coast brew. Nevermind that Costco is from Washington State.

Yup, those are apple cider donuts. It's September in Massachusetts. You know you want one.

Kirkland Signature beer comes in a 24-bottle variety pack of four different flavors, and they're honestly not bad. They do have some problems with either balance or texture, but the flavors, surprisingly, are quite refreshing and good. Let's go worst to best.

Kirkland Signature Pale Ale
Immediately, I'm hit with a soapy lemon-citrus aroma and flavor that's pretty thin on the tongue. It's astringent but not unpalatable. Unfortunately, all of the flavors are at the front end of the sip, with absolutely no follow-through or finish except for a buzzing dryness. The alcohol oddly took the reins and drove the flavor considerably. This wasn't a beer I particularly enjoyed, but it would likely be pretty refreshing on a hot summer day. I want to say this had "clean aromas" but really, it was just the aroma of cleaner.

Kirkland Signature German Lager
OK, this is definitely the wrong color for the lager I expected (more golden brown than blond), but it's was pretty delicious. It was malty, with medium body and lovely depth of flavor. Imminently drinkable, I think this beer was a conscious return to a Bavarian lager and a corresponding rejection of the American macrolager that Costco otherwise sells an enormous amount of. I was surprised, and ultimately encouraged, by Costco's direction with this beer: by rejecting the Budweisers and Millers of the world, Costco is showing a willingness to promote better beer, and that's a good start.

Kirkland Signature Amber Ale
With darker roasted malt comes deeper flavor. That's the idea, right? I was glad, then, that the Amber Ale picked up some good malt depth, with a little bit of sweetness and roasted goodness along the way. Unfortunately, this remained thin on the back end of the sip. While this isn't a bad beer at all, it does take a curiously long time to develop any additional layers of flavor on top of the basic "grain - yeast - hops" profile. Once it does, though, its bigger yeasty flavors do complement sandwiches and other starch-based foodstuffs, but it trades-off in commensurately diminished refreshment.

Kirkland Signature Hefeweizen
This one was really aggressively carbonated and had a lovely depth of flavor. Decent malt sweetness dominated, and gave way to a really smooth aftertaste. Per the mold of a Hefeweizen, there wasn't a whole lot of hop bitterness going on, which made it the easiest to drink of the four. I missed some of the spicier notes that hops can bring to the mix, so this felt a little unbalanced in that regard. Nonetheless, this was overall the best of the four. It was solidly beer flavored, wasn't too rich, and held an excellent and long-lasting finish.

So overall, definitely a good buy. At $18.99 per 24-pack, this was a great deal, but above and beyond that, it was decent beer. I hope Costco learns from its missteps and tweaks the Pale Ale more, because it's not fabulous. But at less than 80¢ per bottle, I could be begrudgingly drinking this because it's cheap, and I'm not. I'm drinking it because it's tasty.

Slow News Day

Welcome to the slow news cycle... August has always been pretty lazy and boring, which is generally how I like things to be. Low on content, high on snark? Sign me up.

But when the Metro, that free and already content-thin newspaper that's distributed en route to the subway by 45-year-old vendors who have a look of pleading desperation in their eyes, decides to put a story about man-boobs, or moobs on its front page, I've had enough. Thankfully, September is here. Wha-wha-whaaaat? Where did my summer go? Oh right, it was eated by teh bar exam. Dear bar exam: get bent. I want my summer back. And not just more August - I want the good parts, like July.

We've both now discussed some canned beers: I've extolled the virtues of the Oskar Blues Old Chub, while Mr. West Coast just enjoyed the Anderson Valley Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema. Just as there's a movement toward the technological breakthrough of the screw-top wine bottle, there's a growing preference for the magic of canned beer. No more beer-skunking UV light penetration; ease of manufacture and shipping; durability - all of these things are great virtues for a beverage-containment-unit. Why don't more people use it? Maybe because we've come to associate the can with the noxious macro-brews that dominate the American market. Maybe the fresh-foods mantra has gotten to us, and we no longer trust anything that comes in a can (except for San Marzano tomatoes - those things are amazing). This demands more research.

In the meantime, more adventurous eaters (yes, I said eaters) can try deep fried beer. Via gawker.

Finally, if anyone's in the market for a kitchen redesign, may I suggest the BeerVault. Pretty...

Yes, I realize I'm re-posting instead of generating content. What can I say? It was August for far too much of last week. I'm off to the supermarket, to see what's left on the shelves after the swarm of hurricane-crazed shoppers went through after Gov. Patrick declared a state of emergency.

Farewell Beers

Recently a good friend of mine made the decision to go to leave San Francisco and attend law school in Minnesota. Being the good geeks that we are, he and I decided to play a last round of Settlers of Catan (German Game of the Year, 1996, check it out!), drink, and reminisce before he began the long drive to the frozen North. I picked up a couple beers to enjoy, the Anderson Valley Brewing Company’s “Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema” and “Piraat Ale,” a Belgian produced by Van Steenberge Brewery.



We first drank the Summer Solstice Cerveza Crema, 5.6% ABV. The beer is apparently called the Cerveza Crema because it “has become a favorite among many of our Hispanic friends, so it is named in their honor.” I am also a huge fan of the Cerveza Crema. It may have been the 80-something degree heat but this beer was damn refreshing. The taste is creamy and smooth, with notes of wheat, vanilla, and a mild alcohol bite. Clocking in at a whopping 4 IBU, you may be unsurprised to hear that there was no hop taste to speak of. My sister described it as reminding her of an Almond Joy. I’m not sure that’s really correct, but it gives a nice reference point for the creamy and sweet taste of the beer. Lest you be worrying, “I don’t like sweet beer,” I can assure you that unlike other sweet beers I’ve tasted, this was not in any way cloying. Bravo to Anderson Valley Brewing Company, I’ll be checking out your other options soon. As for the rest of you, get to their “beerfinder” and go get Crema.

Second, we popped open a bottle of the Piraat Ale, 10.5% ABV. The label declared it to be one of the “top 5 Belgian beers” or some other nonsense. It certainly has a pretty label, which I was unable to photograph properly, as you can see below:



The label states that the beer is a “Belgian IPA,” but it’s definitely not an IPA. Although it has a kick of alcohol (10.5% abv) it has none of the strong hoppy flavors associated with an IPA. Maybe this was just an error in printing, because the beer is a fine regular Belgian pale ale. The Piraat pours with a nice foam, but as you can tell from the picture that foam fades away fairly quickly. I found the beer to be quite sweet, with only a mild bit of alcohol heat and hops at the end. The beer had that Belgian malt and yeast taste that is typical of Belgian pale ale, as well as a bit of spicyness. I’m not sure I’d call it one of the top 5 Belgian beers that I’ve tasted, but it was a solid Belgian pale ale.

A Philosophical Question

So both of us are readers of Serious Eats, and a link came through today that I found interesting. Not interesting as in "wow, that's cool," or interesting as in "fascinating." More interesting as in "wow, this guy's full of crap."

Specifically, the blogger, Jeff, asks whether beer can be perfect. A few choice edits to tease out of the post:

• "Bill [a fellow beer judge] declared, boldly, that there's no such thing as a 50-point beer. A 49--theoretically possible. But no such beer exists that could not be improved upon."

• "If you don't believe in a perfect beer, then each sniff and sip is forensic; you're looking for the imperfection. Imperfections may be objective or purely a matter of taste. . . . I taste it meditatively. I try to see what the brewer was doing. . . . A beer must be perfect on its own terms--the realization of the brewer's highest goals."

If we may assume the best of brewers that they wouldn't send out or ship crappy product, then Jeff's relativism, in my opinion, means that every beer is perfect, since the brewer's highest goals would be to produce a beer about which he or she can be proud. And that's ridiculous. And even if we don't assume the best of brewers (imagining that they're weighing the cost of perfection against expected profit) we'd conclude that the guy who brews Firestone Walker Double Barrel Ale (or any other beer either of us isn't wild about) sent out beer he's not proud of because it's not in his economic interests to do so. Even then, if that's what the brewer's goal is, then perfect! - hooray. Somehow, I don't think Steve agrees that the DBA is perfect. But the guy who made it thinks it is. So cheers to that guy? Really?

Jeff also gets into some religious motif I'm not even going to wade into. And a commenter named "dr wort" decided to provide (copy & paste) a dictionary definition of the word "judge," as if the definition will help us wade through the argument somehow. Real helpful.

In his first post, my co-blogger put up some numerical scores for beer. I see nothing wrong with this, but I found his comments are much more compelling and informative, and ultimately, more useful than his numbers. For me, it's not about a score - it's about whether I liked the beer at the time, what I thought about it, and whether I can describe it in words. We're allowed this kind of wishy-washy descriptor: we're blogging about beer because we love it, not judging it for competition, I'll grant, but I'd much rather write a paragraph about a beer than attempt to assign a score or a grade, especially when nobody can agree on what a perfect 10 even means.

Vacation Beer Review Part 1 - California

Your West Coast correspondent has just returned from a two weeks of well deserved vacation. The first ten days or so were spent driving down the California coast, and the remainder was spent in the socialist paradise of Toronto, Ontario. Having now made the drive down the Coastal Highway I cannot recommend it highly enough. It’s definitely worth doing before shuffling off this mortal coil.

Although the focus of the California trip was on hiking and wine-tasting I did somehow manage to consume some California beer along the way. First up, the Acme Pale Ale:



I had the Pale Ale while waiting for my dinner reservation at the Big Sur Bakery. Incidentally, the food there was so delicious that the boyfriend and I headed back to the restaurant for breakfast.

The Acme Pale Ale checks in at 5% ABV and is produced by the North Coast Brewing Company. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I’d already had another one of North Coast’s beers before, the Scrimshaw, which I would recommend highly to pilsner fans. I'll definitely be checking out their other offerings soon.

As you can see from the picture, the Acme Pale Ale has a beautiful almost pumpkin or roast squash color and light foam. The nose is very mild and the beer has a great crisp taste. The Acme has a mild citrus and hop flavor to it, and it is an extremely refreshing beer after a long day of hiking (and undoubtedly extremely refreshing without the hiking as well). Highly recommended.

Our second beer is the Firestone Walker Double-Barrel Ale (DBA), 5% ABV. The DBA is produced by Firestone Walker, which is located in Pasa Robles, CA. Apparently they are the winners of Champion Brewery/Brewmaster award from the Brewers Association World Beer Cup (an event that it sounds like I simply must track down tickets to) in the mid-sized category for the past three years. The beer is an English Style Bitter/Amber Ale, and ours was poured from a bottle.



As you can see from the photo, there was virtually no head from the pour. I almost wonder whether the bottle had been mishandled in shipping or by the restaurant. The DBA had a maple color and had a strong sweet and hoppy taste which ended with a finish a wet stone. Honestly it was not my favorite beverage of the whole trip. I found the sweetness unpleasant and didn’t like the finish or the lack of carbonation. However, given Firestone’s long list of accolades I’ll probably be trying their Pale Ale soon.

Capital!

So despite my initial two posts, east coast means all of the east coast: not just New England. This correspondent just got back from DC, where he celebrated the nuptials of two lovely friends of his.

DC is a funny place. It's got a huge number of out-of-state license plates on its roads, for all who come to the capital to serve the nation and its many constituencies. And it doesn't really have a lot going for it, culinarily speaking either, except maybe for Ben's Chili Bowl. Damn, that's some good eating…

So I walk into a store, and there's Dogfish Head from Maryland, Sam Adams from Boston, even Bell's from Michigan and Kona, from Hawaii. The most local stuff - National Bohemian, isn't even from DC. So unless you know a dude who's basement brewing or are willing to chance it on some local brewpub, you're out of luck on this whole "locavores" thing.

Which isn't to say you can't find good beer: you're just not going to be drinking locally. I went out with friends to the Brickskeller, which is listed in Guinness as "the bar with the largest selection of commercially available beers." Now, that may be, but our night, at least 5 beers we ordered were unavailable. Also, if you're a wuss, they also serve Bud Light and Bud Light Lime. FYI, this was kind of a mob-review: I tried every one of these, but didn't finish all of them.

In honor of a class I took on Icelandic Saga, I tried the Viking Premium Gold, which is a very generic lager. While deeper flavored and having much more citrus than anything that's so golden really ought to have, Viking is still pretty thin. Side note: dear Vílfilfell, and all other breweries who are using plastic decals instead of easy-to-remove paper labels: cut it the hell out. I collect beer labels, and plastic decals are freaking hard to remove well. PS. dear Vílfilfell: make better beer.

Tried the Ace Cider from Sonoma, CA (sorry, Steve) but it was sour, thin, and pretty wretched overall. At least it wasn't as sweet as other hard apple ciders can get. Refreshing, but I'm just not a cider kind of guy.

Founder's Java Porter is delicious and creamy, with a lovely hint of vanilla. Hailing from Grand Rapids, Michigan, I didn't get a lot of coffee in this one. Nonetheless, a fantastic, jet black beer with real depth and smoothness.

Also up from Founders was the Cerise cherry fermented ale. This was nice, with a lovely cherry flavor that didn't taste artificial. The cherries (for which Michigan is famous) were refreshing and tart, and the fruit flavor faded out of the way into a delicious ale. If I didn't think I'd be laughed at, I'd probably order this more often.

While we're on the fruit thing, one friend ordered the Sea Dog Apricot Wheat Beer from Maine. Sadly, it smelled a lot nicer than it tasted: unbalanced and yeasty, this one didn't have much else to recommend it. Stale, nasty, thin, gross. No thank you. Actually, screw the "thank you." NO.

In the meantime, I also had a Fix 1864 Spezial. Beer Advocate says that this is a retired beer - I don't think it is, but that doesn't mean I don't think it should be. Supposedly, the "National Beer of Greece," this was about as unpleasant as one might think Greek beer would be. Thin, watery, and redolent of stale white bread. Also, it's brewed in America, so it's not like our hands are totally clean on this one either.

My girlfriend ordered a Williamsburg AleWerks [sic.] Washington's Porter, from Virginia. It's really dark, with a pretty intense head and nice lacing. However, it over-promised and under-delivered: it was thin, with a fruity raisin-ish flavor and an astringency that evoked stale burnt coffee. Disappointing.

Also tried a "Sweaty Betty" Blonde from Boulder, CO. Our waiter warned me off, but the name sounded too good to be true. And in truth, it was a lot less objectionable than the waiter had led me to believe. It's rather easy to drink, with good grapefruit and orange aromas, and very little hop on the tongue. Instead, it's pique comes from its rather heavy carbonation. Not great, but definitely not as bad as the waiter had said.

Finally, a real revelation of the night: Oskar Blues Old Chub Scottish Style Ale. $4.00. Canned. Everything that says "stay away from me and order something Belgian." Wow, was I wrong. This stuff is pretty fabulous. It's dark brown with no head to speak of and very few bubbles, and its beautifully smooth finish leaves almost no trace of its 8% abv. Great roasted flavors, malt sweetness, and wonderful balance. These suckers are dangerous.

Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier

As I am fond of pointing out to my Californian counterpart, lobster in New England is currently $4.49/lb. So last night, I helped myself to a fine specimen of a sea-bug, lovingly steamed, with plenty of melted butter. Delicious.

I also cracked open a Sam Adams Blackberry Witbier, because it was the only thing left in the fridge. It's part of the Sam Adams Summer Sampler, which also includes the Boston Lager, Sam Adams Light, Sam Summer, Pale Ale, and Latitude 48. Needless to say, everything (even the Light) got drunk before the Blackberry. Here's why.

As you can see, I did end up drinking it. That lobster was pretty salty.

Basically, this is what you get when you cross a middling wheat ale with a 7-11 blue raspberry slurpee, and it's about as refreshing as a piece of whole wheat bread slathered with blackberry jam. This is an unfortunate misstep by Boston Beer Company. Says the label: "Only a specific blackberry could bring the subtle flavor that we wanted for this brew." If subtle flavors were the goal, then this beer misses the mark badly. The only thing subtle about this beer is the hops, which only ends up bringing out the sweetness of the fruit and the insipidness of the grain.

Every sampler pack has a reject. In halloween candy, it's the Almond Joy bars. In Instant Oatmeal, it's the Apple & Cinnamon. And in this beer sampler, it's most certainly the Blackberry Witbier. I'm not saying "Boo-urns"; I'm saying "boo."

Sweet Liberty, Cradle Of

So the delay in getting this blog up and running was a giant 3-day fun-fest standing in the way of your correspondents and their beer: namely, the bar exam. For 4 weeks, I didn't have a drop to drink. No wine, no beer, no cocktails: nothing. I studied my ass off for that thing, and heaven help the person who reports to me that I have to do any part of it over.

In celebration of having completed the exam (or, in my case, two exams), I went out for a drink with some classmates. First stop was at Tia's on the Waterfront in downtown Boston, where I saddled up with a delicious local brew: Sam Adams Summer Ale.

OK fine. Sam Adams might as well be a national macrobrew at this point, given their coast-to-coast availability and ridiculous marketing apparatus (laser-etched nucleation points, anyone?). Still, the summer beer is a favorite.

Sam Summer is a great, refreshing summer beer. There's a ton of citrus, some light wheat flavor, and lovely spice. Also, at 5.2% ABV, it holds up well over a long period of time without becoming heavy, cloying, or totally messing with one's head.

Unfortunately, Tia's on the Waterfront does not have the same staying power. We left. Quickly. I mean really - $7 for a plastic cup pint? Please.

We found ourselves at Cambridge Common, in Cambridge, MA. It's right next to Harvard Law School, but since most of the law students were closer to the bar exam (or better yet, in other states), the jackhole factor was delightfully low.

I went with a Kennebec "Magic Hole" IPA, which has a terrible name. I ordered it off of the menu as the "Kennebec IPA," as Cambridge Common has the sense not to put such a dumbass name on its menu. Out of Maine, this had a lot of bitterness and a very sharp aftertaste, with really delightful astringency for a hot day. Once I cooled down a bit and tasted it again, it felt very shallow: not fantastic, but precisely what I needed that day. At about this time, my hand could again be used for holding my beer glass: stupid handwritten bar exam…

I was looking for a nice strong beer and found one in the Nebraska Hop God, a velvety smooth 9% ABV beer that should have come in a 10 oz. glass. Thankfully, the Common was out of 10 oz. glasses, so my server poured me a pint. There was to be a 4th beer this evening - those plans went out the window. There was some great pinecone in this, a good amount of citrus hop flavor without a lot of kick, and a malt sweetness that one comes to expect from the stronger ales. But a pint of this stuff did me in for sure. Oddly, this one goes really well with ketchup: the vinegar burned off most of the spicier flavors, leaving malt and alcohol on the tongue. Very peculiar, but not unpleasant.

I should mention the Rogue Hazelnut Brown that my girlfriend was drinking. At first, there was a great coffee & mocha base, but then the hazelnut started to seep in. I hate hazelnut. This felt like drinking a beer while sitting at Starbucks and having to breathe in all of that noxious filbert aroma. Gross.

Beer & Pi

Greetings folks, this is your Left Coast correspondent reporting.

Last weekend my boyfriend and I headed to Pi Bar. We had heard that Pi had good pizza and a neat beer selection and we were not disappointed on either account. Here's what was on tap that night:

The atmosphere at Pi was very nice, and the service was very attentive. We very much enjoyed our pizza with house-made sausage and balsamic onions. This, combined with the excellent beer list makes Pi Bar into a beer bar that we will be returning to again. Rather than having something from the tap, we decided to sample a couple selections from their bottled selections.

First up was the Gageleer, a “Sweet Gale Beer” (7.5% ABV). Sweet Gale, also known as Bog Myrtle, was used with other plants in a mixture called gruit to flavor beer from the Middle Ages to the 16th Century, before hops became widely available. Or so Wikipedia tells me.

Gageleer is produced in Belgium, and because the website is only available in Dutch at this time I don’t have much else to say about it. Using Google translator with limited success I discovered that the beer is organic, brewed with barley and gale, and is unpasteurized.

Apologies for the poor qualities of the pictures, I was using my phone that evening.

The Gageleer, which undergoes a second fermentation in the bottle, poured with a nice foam head. It has a pungent floral nose and a pleasant straw color. The Gageleer was unlike any beer I have ever tasted. It was hoppy but also quite sweet, with the flavors of honeysuckle, candied orange, and anise. The alcohol flavor is well hidden. The floral nose becomes a bit overpowering seven or so sips in. My boyfriend described it as tasting of grape Kool-Aid. Trust me, once you hear that you will taste it too. I found that the anise/spice flavor faded and it did end up with a Kool-Aid taste. This is undoubtedly due to (1) the sweetness of the beer and (2) the power of suggestion.

My verdict for the Gageleer is mixed. This is definitely a beer that you would have to linger over or share. I could not have finished it on my own. It was definitely unique and also nice to broaden my palate, but I would not order the Gageleer again. 7/10.

For my second selection I ordered the Maredsous Brune (8% ABV). Maredsous is actually no longer brewed at the Maredsous Abbey, but the Abbey licenses its name to Duval, who brews on their behalf. So, while crafted in the “tradition” of the Benedictine monks, it is mass-produced. Duval maintains that they follow the original recipe of Father Atout. Regardless of who makes it, the Maredsous Brune is a thoroughly pleasant beer:

As you can see, the beer pours extremely well and developed a nice foaming head. It has a mildly sweet nose and a good dark color. In drinking the Brune I found it had a pronounced yeasty flavor, with a slight hoppy taste and sweet currant undertones. In swallowing, the beer develops what I found to be a very pleasant mild alcohol finish. I would drink again. 8.5/10.

We also enjoyed a pint of Death & Taxes, a porter so good that it will have its own entry sometime soon.

Have you tried any of these beers? Let me know what you thought in the comments.