I was sent this video link by someone from Newsy with the note that I might benefit from covering the story.  Newsy covered the story of TNP hitting the shelves in the U.S. and thought about some of the stuff that was said in that video (of course, we’ve covered it a couple times from other angles).  That is the topic about which I wish to expand.

Note the immediate shock (or is it incredulity?) in the voice of the Fox narrator when he says that the beer is 32% ABV.  He goes on to mention that it is 6 times stronger than “regular domestic brands”…already the first assumption has been unveiled.  Looks like we’re going to see a craft beer measured against a presumed normalcy, which will be the big boys.  The National Post isn’t sure that Americans can handle the Scottish slosh.  Really?  Is this the “average American” who drinks the “regular domestic brands”?  Well, if it is, don’t worry about it because they won’t be buying the beer anyway.

One of the underlying assumptions is that this is an unseen and unheard phenomenon.  Strong beer.  I’m frightened, I’ve never heard of that before.  (I’ve personally made a beer that’s stronger than TNP.)

Is the craft beer drinkers really that unprepared for a beer like this?  I don’t think so.  I would have posted a picture of me waiting hopefully for this mystical beer, but I’m afraid that a picture would steal my soul.

Okay, the story goes on.  ”Watch out America, UK beer drinkers aren’t messing around…while America has enjoyed a cozy relationship with Great Britain blah, blah, blah, holding your hair back while you puke.”  Stuff and nonsense.  First of all, the great majority of UK beers are lower in strength than even the normal domestic.  Second, the craft beer movement across the world owes a lot to the U.S. (of course, I grant that the craft beer movement owes a lot to the world beer community).  The point remains that it’s not so shocking that we can’t take it.  I doubt I’ll be holding my hair back for three reasons: 1.  I’m balding, so I keep my hair short; 2.  It won’t be my first tango with a strong beer; 3.  I think 6 beers, while quite a bit, is not enough to make me puke.

Ludiciris alcohol level?  I’m not sure how to take the statement.  Was it playful or denigrating?  It seems somewhat playful, but I think it ultimately gets a big shrug of the shoulders from me.  Of course, the next sentence seems to, under the surface, imply that the boys at Brew Dog are drunkenly sporting penguin suits, “having a good time” (seems to be lingo like, “tie one on”).

Now comes the wonderfully idiotic Time magazine quote: “…you can’t deny that if the beer becomes more widely available in stores or other brewers mimic…Brew Dog’s strategy, it could become hazardous…most drinkers don’t check alcohol levels on the label like the expiration dates on a milk carton.”  Brilliantly stupid.  In fact, this is so ridiculous that it would pass for parity on The Onion or other news sites.  I checked the source of Time, and they use words like “scary” to describe the 32% ABV beer.  You can really control people’s thoughts with fear, especially a stupid American public—which they seem to assume.

Yet they actually say that according to Watt, the price is prohibitive for unsophisticated drinkers.  Translation: Bud drinkers aren’t going to pick this beer up.  Back to Time’s comment: I can and will deny that if the beer becomes more available, the result will be that Brew Dog’s strategy could become dangerous.  Why do I take this position?  We’ve had Utopias out for several years, which means it’s already been preemptively “mimicked,” and I’ve not seen an epidemic of hazardous consequences as a result.  (And are craft brewers a bunch of uncreative copy cats?)

Another reason I deny the charge is that they use the words “if,” “or,” and “could” to build the case.  In other words, it’s really simple(ton) to build an argument on hypotheticals.  If shit was the same value as gold, then I would be wealthy when I went number two.  What’s the likelihood of that?  Sorry, I’m being a little ridiculous, but Time has driven me to it.

Furthermore, they’ve failed to define who “most drinkers” are in the context of what they are saying.  If they mean macro drinkers, then Watt’s argument becomes more meaningful and utterly destroys and undermines what they are saying.  Funny that they should say “most drinkers” after Watt has denied “most drinkers” would buy the beer.

So, the assumption seems to be that most drinkers are macro drinkers, which is really a fair assessment.  But here is the question that I have: why don’t “most drinkers” check for ABV?  Well, I think it’s because all of the macro beers are the same.  Or it could be that they are buying cheap beer to get drunk anyway , and therefore, don’t care about ABV (of course, it’s unfair for me to characterize everyone who buys Bud as doing it to get drunk…but I do think that it’s very often the case).  So, if they did buy TNP, then the assumption is that they would be drinking to get drunk anyway.  Thus, how is it potentially hazardous?  So, let’s just assume that most (read: macro) beer drinkers aren’t going to be buying TNP anyway.  I think this makes the argument self-defeating from the outset.

But what if they are talking about craft drinkers who will actually buy the beer?  I know that I always look over a beer to find out about it. I look at ABV, IBU, style, description and any other information.  Let’s just assume, for a second, that the opposite of what Time said is actually true; namely, most people who buy this beer are a craft drinking minority who generally look at the label and may already know about the beer.  Furthermore, wouldn’t you wonder why a beer is $53?  I know I would.  I think I’d ask why it’s so and do a bit of investigating.

Most people don’t check ABV like expiration dates on a milk carton.  I’m having trouble here.  First of all, the analogy is extremely weak (last I checked, ABV is not a direct indicator of spoiled beer). Second, Time appears to believe that the American public at large needs supervision.  Make sure you keep close eye on us, we might do something stupid or behave irresponsibly.

Even so, give me a break.  Irresponsible and stupid behavior from some has never been a good reason to disallow something from being available.  It makes it sound like Brew Dog is scheming against an unaware public.  If people don’t check the labels of what they’re buying, shame on them.  They are not wise consumers, just simply consumers.  Is this really what Time thinks of most people?  They are to unaware to look at the label of a $53 beer?  The statement also seems to imply that we can’t be trusted to be responsible.

Enough of this Time magazine statement, it’s just so poorly thought out that I’m leaving it before my head pops.

The review, the review, the review.  What can I say?  Now I’ve watched this review, and the gentleman had a fair amount to say about the beer.  I wouldn’t call the review in depth, but I would say that he spoke about quite a bit other than the ABV.  However, Newsy decided only to include the portions about it being powerful and the definite alcoholic notes.  The selectivity of the statements reveals the philosophy behind the story.  It’s apparently just booze in the minds of the people shaping and editing the story.  I was fine with Newsy’s coverage of the story to this point because the quotes and statements they presented were representative of the party being quoted.  However, they fall short on their usage of what the beer reviewer had to say.

Overall, Newsy did a decent job of reporting about the beer and the reactions to it.  I, for one, am excited about TNP coming to shelves. In my mind, it’s not so much about the beer itself as it is about certain segments of the market being open to having the definition of beer being expanded.  Even if you don’t like the beer, it’s great to see that something this strong can make it and that we have the chance to consume it, dumb as we are.

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The Pour: A good description of the beer might be deep maple.  I think the brewery suggests chestnut.  There was a nice amount of head retention with a finger or finger and a half head.  Not shabby looking at all.

The Nose: The name fits the beer well.  I caught the distinct smell of sheep/dog hair on the nose.  It sounds kind of gross to describe it this way, but it really wasn’t.  It wasn’t strong and was a fitting aspect to the name of the beer.  Caramel, probably from some raw sugar, came through on the nose, as well as hints of smoky malts.  The distinct aroma of English hops made their way to the nose, but they don’t have the piney-citrusy quality of American hops.

The Taste: The maltiness of the beer had distinct caramel/raw sugar qualities along with hints of smokiness.  Features of the darker grains definitely came through in the form of slightly burnt coffee tones.  These slight coffee tones were an excellent counterpoint to the nice level of bitterness.  Along with the dry woody qualities in the beer, biscuit tones and touches of hops made the beer a quality drink.  Just the slightest sweetness, which held the beer in check, also graced the palate.

Overall, this is a good beer.  I think I might have liked a little less of the coffee and a bit more toffee/caramel tones.  However, the beer works very well as it is, and I’m sure the brewer is proud of this product (they should be).  The beer did have a couple of layers, which were very nice, and the subtle complexity of the U.K. ale was certainly there.  I vacillated on a slightly higher score.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★¾☆ 

Among other English Ales: ★★★½☆ 

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The Pour: This is a very finely carbonated, active, and foamy-headed brew.  Its color reminded me of an amber Oktoberfest styled beer.  The yeast itself looked like a Krausening yeast head of a brewing beer. When I knew what I was getting into, my guess was that the similarities ended there.

The Nose: The powdery, yeast and caramel malt qualities melded together with a slight touch of alcohol. The Styrian gold hops and Hallertau made for interesting, yet highly functional hop tones in a Belgian styled beer.  Within the brew was a very nice touch of malty sweetness along with the slightest hint of smoke.

The Taste: Were the Bretts there?  At the very end of the brew, I did catch just a simple, little taste of them.  However, more predominant caramel malts and a lovely array of hops (both aroma and bitterness) were a pleasing attribute.  I was especially relieved that the hops were not the normal citrusy Cascade hops that I’ve lamentably become accustomed to tasting in so many beers.  Why do I say that about this particular beer?  I personally found it to be more like a cross between and IPA and normal Pale Ale.  The grain-bill seems to be very much in that vein.  The smoke that I noticed on the nose came more to the fore, but not overpoweringly so, when I sipped the beer.  A touch of sweetness, the slightest sourish tone, and Belgian candy sugar were also very nice aspects to beer.  A hint of vodka alcohol qualities were present, but it was far more winish than I expected.  The beer finished very much on the drier side, which also played a bit like wine.

Overall, I’ll give this beer a very hardy thumbs up.  Not what I expected but very good nonetheless.  It is indeed alive but will be far more alive in a year or two of aging.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★☆ 

Among other Bretts: ★★★¾☆ 

Rating: ★★★★☆ 

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As you have no doubt heard, BrewDog has now made the world’s strongest beer at 32% ABV.  Of course, if naysayers would have it, it’s not technically beer at all.  More on that in a moment.  My real problem is not with intelligent dialogue on the topic, it is with dismissive and percile logic used on posts like the one that has elicited my response. The amount of assumptions and lack of thorough intelligence is singularly lopsided as far as this gent is concerned.  Roger Protz is apparently the world’s leading beer authority and a very intelligent fellow, but what he wrote will not do and is not enough to convince anybody who is not already of his disposition.  If you are going to attempt to destroy the merits of what someone has accomplished, at least do it in a thoroughgoing manner.  This brings me to what I’m going to do now: I’m fighting fire with fire.

Roger Protz has written about BrewDog’s latest beer, denigrating its reputation and calling the brewers bonkers, calling it not a beer at all, etc.  Here is one of my assumptions: the reason he thinks it’s not a beer may something to do with the fact that he’s a CAMRA member (nothing against CAMRA).  Okay, I’m not going to leave it there.

Why Bother at All?

As a pre-curser to what I’m going to say, I want to state that building a good argument takes time.  My father taught me (rightly) at an early age that if you are going to do something, it’s only worth doing if it’s done right.  Argumentation is much the same way.  A short post, which is written only to put something up and appeal only to those who agree with you is okay if you are not being contrary.  If you are, then more effort is required.

I could have written the same post that Protz did in ten minutes.  Why?  Because it is dismissive and amateurishly un-thorough for someone who has written 17 books.  Make me a believer is all I’m saying.  As a result, I can only address what he has written in his post, even though I know that there is much more to what he had to say than meets the eye.  Unfortunately, the article is what it is, and I’m addressing that.

Assumptions and Insults:

First, I want to talking about his assumptions and the insults that he uses to build his argument. The first point (if it can be called that) Protz makes is that BrewDog has an over-inflated ego and naked ambition.  I’ll dignify the comment even if it isn’t worth it.

Who argues this way?  Starting an argument with an insult seems a bit like two children on the playground.  Name calling?  That’s how you’re addressing BrewDog’s latest beer?  Oh!  They’re doing it because of ego and ambition…I guess that is enough to destroy their achievement.  Oddly enough, Protz’s argument is somewhat of an inclusio in this respect (namely, he starts and ends with this same concept of mudslinging).  Not only so, but they’ve surpassed/outdone (to use American parlance) their former ego-mania, a.k.a., you thought they were ego-maniacs before.  Obviously, Protz believes that other people also already make this assumption and that he is preaching to the choir, so to speak.

One could employ the same sort of rationale that Protz does and call writing 17 books, etc., as nakedly ambitious.  Of course, one would be wrong in this assumption; I believe it’s passion that drives him.  Could the same not be true of BrewDog?  Maybe it’s an ego-maniac who assumes that he doesn’t have to “make a case” because of his great reputation as an authority on beer.

Let’s assume that BrewDog is ambitious and ego-maniacal.  So what?  What does this have to do with the achievement?  The assumption seems to be that since they are ego-maniacs, this discounts what they’ve accomplished.  Is ambition to succeed an inherently bad thing?  If so, does this necessitate that someone is also an ego-manic?  Defiance, maybe…but doesn’t that seem to be the point behind the name?  (More on that in a second…)

My point is that name calling does nothing but fortify people who already share the same disposition, partially because they share the same myopathy.  I was really hoping for BrewDog to send out a response along the lines of “I’m rubber, you’re glue” to really heat up this profound debate.  Instead, they merely relegate themselves to the likes of quoting John Locke (major figure for American democratic ideology) on their site.

Next, BrewDog chose, deliberately, according to Protz, to launch the beer on the day that Parliament was reviewing laws that were specifically applicable to 32% “beer.”  First off, I was unaware that there are “non-deliberate” ways of choosing.  Do we really need to know that a choice is deliberate?

Protz’s ostensible point is that he sees the move as intentionally defiant.  Which is it?  Are they defiant by releasing this beer or are they ego-maniacs?  Maybe he believes that it’s simply a case where the ego-mania is substantiated by the act.  I think it’s not defiance he sees at work, but rather ego-mania because he seems to miss the point of the name entirely.

I’m grossly unfamiliar with English culture and politics.  Is it possible that Roger Protz is even more so? How does he miss the point of BrewDog’s latest beer’s name?  By way of dismissive insult, he essentially accuses them of smoking some of the good stuff to come up with this name, implying that they are pot-headed miscreants.  This does two things.  The association of alcohol/alcoholism (the real unspoken narrative within which this article is written) gives the spurious impression that to side with these, “the wild buckaroos” (an apparent insult via American attitudes), is to side with pot-headed booze hounds…yes, the BrewDog pun is intentional.  Rubbish!  Stuff-and-nonsense! Bullocks!  See, I can do it, too.

Tactical Nuclear Penguin is as intentional in its name as it is in its release date.  How is it that he either misses or doesn’t take this into account?  The “tactical nuke” appears to be aimed directly at the ridiculousness of the British Parliamentary procedure as it relates to legislation against beer.  Since when has protest been equated with nonsense?  I suppose Protz didn’t consider this simply because nonsense seems to be his modus operandi…there is an insult worth making.  Like I’ve said, most of this is not worth really dignifying, but I suppose I’m a little petty.  Now to the beer itself.

It’s not beer at all?  According to Protz, brewer’s yeast can only go to 12 or 13 degrees.  He can’t mean Plato; I know he simply can’t mean that.  I’m assuming, an inference I have to attribute either to language barrier or lack of information about his usage, that he must be talking about percentage alcohol.  Maybe there is a law in England that I don’t know that restricts calling something a beer if it’s over 13 degrees Plato…but I can only assume that he must mean alcohol percentage.  Still, this is incomprehensible to me.

At home, on my crude brewing equipment, I’ve attained 14% ABV with ease.  I used Trappist Yeast and added no nutrients to my brew.  Also, I used ambient air, which is far less soluble than pure oxygen. Thus, I had none of the advantages that, say, a brewer has.  Is he seriously trying to tell me that I simply imagined this?  There is a difference between theory/what you read and practice.

Let’s assume for one minute, as crazy as it sounds, that breweries can exceed what I’ve done.  For instance, let’s say I didn’t use the world’s most alcohol tolerant yeast (in fact, I didn’t).  Some brewer’s yeasts are capable of, let’s say, 15 or 16% in terms of thresholds.  Let’s further assume that yeast rousing, nutrient addition, oxygen solubility and brewer expertise play significant factors.  Based on this, I don’t think it’s at all unreasonable to assume that a brewer could achieve 17 or 18%.  In fact, White Labs makes a super ale yeast, ironically from England, that will ferment up to 25%.

Since BrewDog’s info is proprietary, it’s hard to know how they do it.  What I do know is that it’s ale yeast.  Who knows what someone might achieve through the use of ale yeast?  Point is that the water is a bit muddy in this respect.  Whatever the case may be, what Protz said is unfounded.  So, let’s say the lower end that might be achieved is 17-18% and the high end is 25-26%.  Now it’s starting to appear plausible.

That’s only X amount, you might say.  Either way, when it comes down to it, BrewDog could not have gotten their beer all the way to 32% ABV by simply brewing it, hence the need for freezing/freeze distilling/eisbocking, call it what you will.

It is entirely possible to gain another 2-5% ABV by freezing beer.  Alcohol, especially higher levels, takes longer (and lower temps) to freeze than water.  Essentially, taking the water out once it is frozen raises viscosity, ABV, and concentrates (a very important word) the alcohol to higher levels.  Who is going to argue that taking water out makes it less of beer?  Isn’t it water to alcohol ratios (sugar being included here) that make a beer stronger or weaker?  If one argues that eisbock isn’t beer (I’m not saying that this is what Protz is doing), then what is?  Tell me the magical percentage of water one must have to make something a legitimate beer.  If you can’t, then don’t detract.  Saying that doing this procedure somehow makes it less of a beer is ludicrous. Maybe fruit juice concentrate is not actually juice until water is added.  How about we add water to BrewDog’s beer?  Can we call it beer then?

Alcohol fortification seems to be the most legitimate sticking point on which to hang one’s hat.  They did pick up alcohol from those barrels of whiskey (which is made of grains, water, and yeast by the way).  So, I guess you might not call it a beer based on that.  Problem is that we call all sorts of barrel-aged beers by that name all the time.  To be consistent, we ought to avoid calling all of them beers in the proper sense of the word.  It seems to me that this semantic problem really comes in when you start the discussion about the world’s strongest beer–then we become particular about what to call it.  I guess we could call it the world’s strongest barrel-aged beer.  Would that appease?  Probably not.

(It’s interesting to note that the real difference between distilling and eisbocking is simply one of ethanol purity.  In eisbock making, the ethanol stays in the original substance and the water is removed.  In distilling only the ethanol is captured, leaving the rest behind.)

The whole discussion seems moot on several points, namely, calling the Tactical Nuclear Penguin beer.  The only sense that it is not beer is the couple of percent ABV from the barrels.  So, what should be the denouement?  BrewDog makes the world’s strongest beer that is 90% beer, 70% of that being regular beer, 20% being eisbock beer, and 10% being added ethanol?  Whatever you might call their creation, I call it beer.

(Thanks for sticking with this article, I felt the expatiation was a necessity, because the beeriness of this beer is in dispute.)

My question to Mr. Protz is, how do you know they used champagne yeast or wine yeast?  I don’t. Perhaps you have the code to this Nuclear program.  Here is yet another assumption that this beer simply can’t beer based on the definitions by which Protz is playing.

If that isn’t enough, he goes on to talk about the issue of sensibility (now he’s using sense…interesting).  He quotes James Watts as saying that BrewDog is pushing the boundaries, an interesting admission in the face of Mr. Protz’s argumentation over the fact that this isn’t a beer, or at least not a conventional one.  In an attempt to turn the phase on its head, Protz once again, boringly so, appeals to his trusty insulting insinuations: “Indeed, and it’s also pushing beyond breaking point what sensible beer writers and connoisseurs will take from this bunch of ego-maniacs.”

Is that so?  A.k.a., if you don’t agree with me, you are not a sensible beer writer or connoisseur.  Since he is a recognized authority, he must be right.  Classic argument from authority fallacy stuff at work here.  I suppose some of us simply aren’t sensible, then.  What else is one to conclude from this fellow?  Furthermore, the presumption that he is speaking on behalf of all “sensible” beer connoisseurs and writers goes beyond hilarity.  Who sounds like the ego-maniac now?

Finally, we get to the pith and marrow of what Mr. Protz is really about: “Those of us who attempt to paint an image of beer as a fine drink enjoyed in moderation by sensible people have the ground cut from beneath our feet by BrewDog, which just plays in to the hands of the yellow press, ever anxious to give beer a bad name.”

I see.  Now it’s about the good name of beer.  I didn’t realize that we should always act based on perception.  Status quo is the name of the game, my good little soldiers.  The implication of the first line is that BrewDog is attempting to paint a low brow drink to be swilled down.  Protz is apparently part of the good guy grouping whereas BrewDog falls into the bad guy camp.  Again with the implication that sensible people wouldn’t drink a beer like this.  So, BrewDog is cutting the ground from beneath the feet of the beer saviors, are they?  Hogwash.  How so?  Who says people have to drink this beer excessively or in an isolated manner?  Who says those purchasing the bottle are, or must of necessity, be drinking it excessively?  This same sort of logic would probably have Scotch consumed only from airplane size bottles.

So, the “yellow press” is ever anxious to give beer a bad name?  Isn’t this an interesting self-defeating statement?  Think about it.  If they are ever anxious to give beer a bad name, doesn’t it follow that they will ever find ways to do it?  I’m sure they really talk up the merit of 3.8% beers, don’t they?  The point is that those who look for something to degrade about beer will find it, no matter what beer is in view.  It’s more interesting to me that Mr. Protz joins in on the head hunting.

Now he justifies himself by saying that it is not the norm for him to agree with the Alcohol Concern.  That may be true, but it is not re-assuring because it’s a slippery slope, partly because I’m now wondering what is the cutoff of good sense, as far as Mr. Protz is concerned.  Can I drink a beer that is below the 30% threshhold?  How about 20%?  The last thing I want to do is to appear un-sensible.

I’ve already mentioned Protz’s inclusio of insult, but it is worth noting that Protz once again appeals to his trusty weapon to deal with the issue at hand.  He quotes Jack Law as basically saying those guys act like babies.  Very compelling stuff, Mr. Protz.  Then comes the remainder of Mr. Law’s argument, which Protz endorses, namely, “He added that the fact that the beer, priced at £30 a bottle, had achieved a new record was not admirable. ‘It’s a product with a lot of alcohol in it, that’s all. To dress it up as anything else is cynical.’”

What shall we call Scotch, since we are taking on new ideas about what is legitimate for certain alcohol thresholds?  I don’t feel cynical when I call a strong beer a beer, do you?  Frankly, there are few people here whose attitudes seem cynical, and they can be found in Protz’s article.  By the way, it’s interesting to note that in the U.K., beer is taxed based on alcohol percentages and not a flat barrel rate like in the U.S., so who might be to blame so far as the price is concerned?

So, what is this stuff all about?  Ostensibly, there are some major drinking problems in the U.K. and Scotland in particular.  Because of this, there has been a lot of lobbying and parlimentary hullaballoo over the topic.  Given that the government is now deciding for the people what is too strong a beer or a drink, BrewDog seems to have challenged the notion up to its threshold.  I suppose the previous challenge wasn’t enough.  Honestly, are beer drinkers going to pay $60 for a bottle of beer just to get drunk?  Are beer lovers really the problem?  My guess is that the answer to that question is no.

I want to state without equivocation that what I’ve written is not a personal attack on Mr. Protz.  He is a well respected member of the beer community.  However, sloppy and dismissive writing and logic are always of paramount concern to me when I read such nonsense.  My article is not so much an argument against Protz as it is an ardent defense of BrewDog and craft brewing in general.  Plus, I figure that my ardent defense of this particular beer might ingratiate us to BrewDog enough for them to send a couple bottles my way.  If they can’t ship it here, they can fly me there.  I’m okay with that.

In all seriousness, if you’ve read this article and know how to get one of these beers my way, I’d love to taste it.  I’m always keenly interested in beers like these.  Why?  Because while it is true that good craft beer is made from grains, water, yeast and hops, it is also made of that all-natural ingredient of adventurous iconoclasm–a fact my Protz has seemed to have forgot.

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Oatmeal stouts have not been around for too long a period.  Their introduction seems to be connected to some time in the 1890s.  Of course, oats themselves have been used in brewing for multiple centuries.  It used to be that oats were seen to detract from the quality, adding bitterness via tannins to a beer (especially in higher amounts).  Michael Jackson mentioned an oatmeal stout that he had tried, and that was enough to peak the curiosity of many and essentially revive the style.  In my mind, Samuel Smith’s is the classic example.

The Pour: As I’ve mentioned before, sometimes stouts look like porters and vice versa.  I would certainly categorize the colors of this beer as being along the lines of a robust porter.  It’s dark but light enough to let some nice ruby colors shine through this gem of a beer.  Atop the mostly black body sat a creamy, stable, and light brown head.

The Nose: As is wonderfully typical of many British ales, Sam Smith’s Oatmeal Stout had some nice raw sugar, caramel qualities.  Slight metallic tones were added by the dark grains, which also lent almost mocha latte aromas to it.  Of course, a nice but not overbearing amount of oats floated through the slightly bilious body.  As I drank the beer, nice lacing also clung to the sides of the pint glass.

The Taste: Here is my favorite part.  Some residual sweetness and oats led the pack in terms of taste quality.  As with their Taddy Porter, Samuel Smith’s Oatmeal Stout had a nice, juicy fruit acidity to the palate. The rich smoothness balanced out the juicy qualities, while caramel and raw sugar lent to the depth.  The back side of the taste added a very lovely smoke touched goodness to the whole.  The overall taste that I might attribute to this product can be explained in terms of Samuel Smith’s other products: half Taddy Porter, one quarter Imperial Stout, one quarter Old Brewery Pale Ale and a nice helping of oats.

Overall, no matter how many American versions I try, many of which are very good and more robust, I’ve never found one that seriously contends with the Samuel Smith’s version.  It it wonderfully balanced, juicy, and firmly rooted in traditional British brewing.  Very high marks for this classic.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★¾ 

Among other Stouts: ★★★★½ 

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Scarecrow Golden Pale Ale:

The Pour: As the name implies, the beer resembled the straw-like colors of a scarecrow.  There was a small but stable froth of white head that remained atop the clean body.

The Nose: One thing I love about English Ales is the use of demerrara sugar, which almost always lends a particular caramel/toffee/brown sugar tone to the beers.  It also serves to lighten the body of a brew while lending plenty of flavor.  Besides the sugar tones, I noted a pretty hoppy presence.  This was not the citrusy, piney, or grapefruit quality that many American versions of pale have.  It took more like a classic British aroma hop.  Of course, these are subtle in their citrusy tones, but they almost tend to yield a slight skunky tone.  A touch of malt also emerged in the beer.

The Taste: I can’t help but reiterate that British Pales are fairly unlike the more hoppy and overtly aromatic American versions.  They are also more restrained in taste for the same reason.  Upon the first sip, I knew this was British all the way.  The pleasant and lasting bitterness was part of my first impression.  Toward the middle of the sip, malts started to come through and meld into the hop bitterness the rest of the way through.  The classic touches of demmerarra sugar, which I mentioned above, appeared in a restrained but noticeable manner.  Just a bit of malt sweetness ensured that this ale would have great balance.

Overall, this is a delightful brew.  In an age where we want crushingly overt flavors, we can become desensitized to a simple and mild brew.  I personally enjoyed the refreshment of not having to think about a beer until it hurt.  Pick one or two of these up and you might find that you enjoy their subtlety.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★¾☆ 

Among other English Pale Ales: ★★★¾☆ 

Hobgoblin:

I’ll tip my hand from the very beginning: I think that Hobgoblin is the best of the three beers we’ve tasted from Wychwood.  I’ve always really appreciated this particular brew and had an opportunity to drink it in England this past summer.

The Pour: This beer is certainly the darkest among the three.  The colors that came to mind when I poured the brew were crimson-brown and ruby.  Truth be told, it reminded me of a porter, although with more red to it. Hobgoblin had a very nice, white, fluffy head, which was made up of pretty fine carbonation.

The Nose: Plenty of sweet, dark-roasted malt and toffee graced the nostrils when I whiffed this brew.  A small amount of hops and breadiness also made their way through the head of Hobgoblin.  In addition to the aforementioned qualities was a nice degree of sweetness.  Like the others, this beer was not so complex that I feel the need to discover Fujian barking gopher tree tones in it (or whatever obscure and unimpressive thing I might “discover”).

The Taste: There was a nice mouth-feel to this brew, which is important due to the fact that there were some slight alcohol qualities that came through on the taste.  Because of the sweetness, roasted toffee type tastes, and powder qualities of the yeast, I immediately put the alcohol to the back of my mind.  Also notable were the tones of wood and grapes, which made it seem like I was drinking something more akin to wine.

Overall, this beer is delicious.  I could seriously drink it for weeks on end.  Not only is it highly drinkable, it’s not overfilling and cloying in its sweetness.  Simply great beer.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★¼ 

Among other English Ales: ★★★★☆ 

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The recipe for Rogue Chocolate Stout was created several years ago for export to Japan. The exported twelve ounce Chocolate Bear Beer bottle label is in Kanji and features a teddy bear with a pink heart on his belly. Chocolate Stout was released for Valentine’s Day in 2001 in a twenty-two ounce bottle for the US market. The label features a Roguester (Sebbie Buhler) on the label.

I’d be willing to bet this somewhat commonplace (in the sense of availability) beer just became a bit more interesting!

The Pour:

Words fail me at this point. Thankfully Scott, from Manland, hooked us up with this High Def footage (seriously…this pour puts Hollyweird to shame!):

The Nose:

Is that chocolate I smell?  It doesn’t take much imagination or stretching of the olfactory nerves to pick up on the overt chocolate notes.  In fact, the smell is milk chocolaty, reminding me of a chocolate liquor.  There is strong vanilla presence, and a hint of alcohol.  I tried to pinpoint the alcohol aroma:  I was reminded of a vanilla rum.  All the while the bitter aroma of dark malts make this a tantalizing aromatic experience.

The Taste:

What hits your mouth is not a chocolate bomb, although, because you (and me) are anticipating chocolate–as per the name leads us too–that is what we taste; however, let’s face it…there a bizzillion different chocolate varieties out there, so it would be unfair to just claim a chocolate dominance.  The fact is, the different nuances of this beer make for a rich experience.  In my opinion, the way the cascade hops, the bitter dark and chocolate malts, and the bittersweet dutch chocolate all came together resulted in a rich, fancy, dare I say, bittersweet orange chocolate experience.  All the while, the ever-so familiar malt flavor that screams “grain,” will not allow you to forget that it is a beer, and not a malted milk shake, that you hold in your hand.  The mouthfeel is very smooth and silky.

Overall Thoughts:

It had been a LONG time since I had sampled this beer.  I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.  The beer set me back a mere $4.99 (22 oz bomber):  A steal considering the quality inside.  It is a great evening beer.  Excellent for sipping on a cool night (though I wouldn’t rush to it to quench my thirst after gardening on a hot day!)  To the faraway continent of Japan, thank you for your inspiration!

Nate’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★¼ 

Among other Chocolate Stouts: ★★★★½ 

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The Pour: As I poured this beer, I reflected on the pitiful lack of dark and black lagers out there.  Luckily, there has been somewhat of a resurgence when it comes to black lagers specifically.  Warsteiner Dunkel poured with a very brown color and revealed some slight hints of red in the body.  Being a lager, it had a very clean body with small carbonation bubbles coming through to prop up its very small head. Occasionally, a bigger carbonation bubble would come through the beer, giving the appearance of a bubbling cauldron of oil.

The Nose:  Unlike many of the ales that we review on the site, this didn’t not have that much going on. Appropriately, there were no fruits on the nose.  This beer was all malt with no discernible hops on the nose.  Sometimes it’s nice to have a “meat and potatoes” type beer.  The malts had a pleasant tinge of sweetness, which highlighted their dominance.   I can’t be absolutely sure, but I caught the smallest sulfur aroma on the nose of this dunkel.

The Taste: Again, sometimes simplicity is a virtue.  There simply isn’t too much going on in this beer.  A tinge of malt sweetness came through on the taste, and a dry maltiness dominated the 4.8% ABV beer.  The hints of sulfur seemed to come through but only a minimal amount of hops and darker malt flavors.  I can’t stress enough that this is a simple beer.  No one ever said it is hugely complex, but that’s what makes it an immanently drinkable, not overly thinkable beer.

Overall, If this was a beer that I drank once a week I wouldn’t complain.  It is smooth, agreeably dry, and simple.  However, I wouldn’t make special efforts to go out and get this.  It’s a good session beer that you don’t have to over analyze.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★☆☆ 

Among other German Lagers: ★★¾☆☆ 

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Olde Suffolk: This particular beer is aged for two years in oak barrels.  Greene King is the brewery that also makes Strong Suffolk, a 12% ABV monster that is aged for two years (minimum).  This one, however, is a somewhat moderate beer in that it is half the ABV of the Strong.  Of course, this is not moderate by typical English Ale standards.  I’ve seen complaints on other sites about this beer being $4 dollars for a single imperial pint.  All I can say is this:  What can you expect a beer that has been aged 2 years in oak to cost? Furthermore, one has to consider that a 6% ABV beer in England is taxed differently than a 6% ABV beer in the U.S.  We utilize a flat barrel rate, while their tax rates are based on ABV, which is why (especially) when you go to England, the beers tend to be lower in ABV.  At any rate, I think the price is right for this fine ale. Here’s why.

The Pour: Typical of English Ales, this beer had a beautiful and clean color, which bordered on a chestnut brown with some red tones.  The head was small but well maintained.

The Nose: As you may expect from a beer that is aged two years in oak, there was some oak on the nose. Banana, grape (gum-like) wine notes, and touches of yeast bite graced the nose of Olde Suffolk.  Malty sweetness also came to the fore as I stuck my nose deeper into the glass.

The Taste: Just as I noted the grapish wine-like notes on the nose, it came through in the taste.  The esters of phenol (banana) made their way, in a subtle way, to the palate.  The sweet malts created the impression of a fullness in the mouth.  I have to say that this beer was not nearly as dry as I expected it to be.  I don’t know if it was because of the juicy fruit tones or not, but it was pleasantly oaky…yet, not overly dry.  On the far finish, I noted a distinct vanilla quality that was absolutely delicious.  It was a long and lingering finish.

Overall, this is a complete and terrificly balanced beer.  It is worth picking up and trying.

Mike’s Rating for Olde Suffolk:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★☆ 

Among other English Ales: ★★★★¼ 

Samuel Smith’s Yorkshire Stingo- Any of you who have read this site for any amount of time know that I’m a Samuel Smith’s fan.  Their Taddy Porter has to be my favorite traditional style porter, their Imperial Stout is also one of the best traditional versions, and their Old Brewery Pale is delicious.  Overall, I really like their portfolio.  It seems almost crazy that I don’t try this particular selection, so I picked it up.  Like the last beer, this one is aged in oak.  I believe the oak they use is over 100 years-old, so it has plenty of character to lend.  The gestation period for this baby is a year, which leaves plenty of time to add character.  This beer is also heavy by English standard.  It comes in at 8% ABV.

The Pour: Stingo had a maple-colored body with a thin creamy head.  There was a hazy quality to the brew that I found intriguing.

The Nose:  Sourness from the oak aging was certainly present on the nose.  I also noted a strong fruitiness.  One such aroma had the quality of a raison/prune tone to it.  Some caramel as well as a wort (beer before it ferments) aroma wafted through the beer.

The Taste: The sourness that I noted in the aroma came through as an acidic sharpness in the mouth. There was nothing overbearing in that quality, but it was certainly distinct.  This beer was indelibly fruity in approach while the alcohol remained very restrained.  The caramel and wort tones also made a palate appearance, which reminded me that I was drinking an English Ale.  Stingo also slightly reminded me of drinking grape juice, which was especially reinforced by the residual sweetness.  Samuel Smith’s offering ended in a somewhat dry manner.  I found that as I let it warm, a bit of the oak really started making its way into the brew.  Maybe it’s worth drinking at 65/70 degrees.

Overall, I think this is a good beer, but I wouldn’t pay $12.99 for it again (taxes are the problem).  In fact, I might purchase three bottles of Olde Suffolk instead.  Still, never pass up trying something like this for yourself.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★¾☆ 

Among other English Ales: ★★★¾☆ 

Older Viscosity- I went and saved the beast for last.  This puppy weighs in at 12% ABV and costs almost the same as Yorshire Stingo.  This product is one by Port Brewing but is made at their Lost Abbey facility, as indicated by the cork cap.  I’m glad I was able to find this (at Whole Foods) because I’ve tried the Old Viscosity and enjoyed it.  Now it was time to drink the big version (as though the other was small).

The Pour: This beer is black.  Blacker than night.  What else could a beer that is compared with old car oil be?  There wasn’t a ton of head on this one, but I’m okay with that.

The Nose:  Bourbon, bourbon, bourbon.  I could tell this was going to be a hot brew when I smelled the vanilla, caramel, and alcohol on the nose.  The peppery oak was also a dominate trait on the olfactory side of this brew.

The Taste: I love a bourbon aged beer that has a ton of bourbon on it.  For that reason I loved it.  And for that same reason, you might not.  The bourbon can, ostensibly, be a little too hot for many people.  Hot alcohol, vanilla, molasses, caramel and biscuit qualities were all present in this brew.  I get the impression that biscuit tones are the only ones that were distinctly derived from the malt.  I’m sure the caramel could be viewed the same way.  However, the toasted and smoky qualities also reminded me that the bourbon was king in this one.  The swirl of flavor ended in a pretty dry and tasty fashion.

Overall, I think this is one of the better barrel aged beers that I’ve had.  I’m still a fan of Goose Island’s offering, but I would certainly not turn this down as a viable alternative.  If you like a bourbon beer, try this
Older Viscosity.

Mike’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★¼ 

Among other Bourbon Stouts: ★★★★½ 

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The Lowlander specializes in Belgian Ales.  Many of the better/more unique beers that I tasted in London were at this location.  I drank some sours, lambics, and some triples.  Unlike the lower alcohol beers that dotted the landscape, the Lowlander had some fairly big beers.  Of course, you are going to pay for them. This is not only due to the fact that more ingredients and time went into the beers but also because many places in Europe base taxation of beers on their alcohol content.

The Museum Pub: It seems to me that this was the name.  Some of the more familiar brands can be found there: Old Speckled Hen, Hobgoblin, and Old Peculiar.  These are beers that defy many of the normal bitters in the surrounding area.  Either way, it is right across the street from the National History Museum in London…you can’t miss it.  Don’t forget to buy a sausage with onions from a street vender before or after a pint or two.

Samuel Smith’s Pubs: There are several Samuel Smith’s pubs in the London area.  The nice thing about these is that you can get a Sam Smith’s Extra Stout, which is a lovely respite from the ubiquitous Guinness (otherwise you might not be able to find another stout).  There is a particular Samuel Smith’s pub location (obviously, it wasn’t a Samuel Smith’s pub then) that Charles Dickens used to visit (it is singularly odd to walk into pubs, with all their tight quarters and old architecture, that are older than the United States as a country.  I think this is one of the great charms about drinking beer in London).  This pub is called The Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese.  They also carry many of Samuel Smith’s other products, including lagers, pale ales, and ciders…but, sadly, they didn’t have the Taddy Porter.

The Rake: If you are missing the United States, find The Rake.  They specialize in carrying American craft beers.  You can find selections by Left Hand, Hebrew/Schmaltz, and plenty of Stone.  In fact, the only place I’ve had Stone’s Russian Imperial Stout on tap was at the Rake.  It’s worth checking out because of all the interesting choices and the novelty of seeing an “American” watering hole in London.

I hope this will help interested beer drinkers on their way to London.  Two points are worth reiterating: one, explore the beer in London.  Two, don’t simply explore the beer in London.  I hope to write about my experiences elsewhere in Europe before too long.

***One more good tip I can offer is to order half-pints of beer.  If you want to try as many as possible, this is a good way to do it.***

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