So how is this beer a beast?

The term “kelpie” actually is derived from a mythological creature of Celtic folklore–a monster–said to haunt the rivers and locks of Scotland.  The mythological Kelpie was said to lure victims (it favored children) into the water where it would drown and then devour them.  Yikes!  At 4.4% ABV there’s little chance that consuming a couple bottles of Kelpie Ale will be so cruel to you.

So how does the beast reveal itself in the drinking experience?

There are few beers that REALLY intrigue me prior to drinking.  No matter how crazy a name a brewery decides to name its pale ale, I usually cannot muster up any intrigue…I mean…it’s a pale ale, hardly a white buffalo.  But a beer brewed with seaweed?  Those certainly aren’t flooding the shelf.  I was even more intrigued because my Kelpie came to me as a gift from my father, a burgeoning craft beer lover.  As intriguing as it was, I wa expecting a fairly mild beer.  After all, 4.4% does land this brewing the session range.

The beer pours and looks like an average porter, with perhaps a bit more viscosity.  I dug my nose in expecting to be bombarded with sea, fish, and salt.  Such was not the case.  Instead, the brew was pleasantly malty and grainy.  Chocolate was a noticeable aroma.  It must be noted that Kelpie Ale is not very carbonated, and you’ll be hard pressed to produce a vibrantly foamy head.

In the mouth, Kelpie is VERY smooth.  It is difficult to describe what a silky beer feels like in the mouth…it just has to be experienced.  Keplie would be a nice place for to start.  As the beer begins to impart its flavor on your taste buds, the beast comes out.  What I mean is, this beer is FULL flavored in respect to it’s ABV.  Usually in lower ABV beers with a lower IBU (bitterness from hops) the flavor is mild and subdued.  But in this case, the intense caramel and chocolate flavors.  All sorts of nutty and malty flavors are powerfully in your face.  The best way I can describe it, is by comparing it to a sweet Russian Imperial Stout…just subtract the sweetness and keep the malt flavors.

The seaweed was hardly noticeable, and came across as a moderater vegetable flavor…maybe a hint of sea. I believe the seaweed flavor had diminished in the 5 year old bottle I was drinking.  Nevertheless, in short, for a beer of such modest alcohol content, the flavor is a beast.

This is a good brew, and worth a try.  In fact, I’ll buy it again if I ever see it.  The fact that my dad, who considered Molson Ice a great beer just a few years ago (sorry for ratting you out dad) gave it to me made the drinking experience better.  Hve you had Kelpie?

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.

Of course, a beer analogy ensues.

In 2002 Samuel Adams wowed the world with it’s release of a monster of a beer, Utopias, which boasted an ABV of 27%.  Go ahead and search around online for it.  A quick google search revealed a several year old bottle for $599.99.  Sam Adam’s spends years making this beverage, aging it in used liquor barrels.

Sam Adam’s inadvertently started the big beer race, and it seems to have picked up speed in recent months.  First off, let me state that there is an overwhelming trend of bigger beers.  It seems the higher the ABV, the more interest a beer generates.  Remember The Bruery?  Of course you do.  They brewed that big old imperial stout, Black Tuesday.  Prior to the Black Tuesday hype were they even a blip on your radar?  Interesting to the theme of this article is a comment made to Mike when he was touring Bruery.  I recall him telling me that a brewer said, in reference to Black Tuesday, that they wanted to eventually push the ABV beyond that of Utopias and that they didn’t even care what it tastes like.

This was before the release of Tactical Nuclear Penguin, by Scottish bad boys, Brewdog.  Tactical Nuclear Penguin was marketed as  The Strongest Beer in the World.  This experiment in ridiculously high ABV weighed in at 32%.  I still have not tried it, so I cannot vouch for it’s magnificence, and I am not going to spend my kids’ college fund on it, so go here to read some reviews.

It seems a German brewery–Schorschbräu–just couldn’t stand the fact that Brew Dog’s proverbial lawn was greener than their own, so they brewed up a better tasting higher ABV brew that boasted and alcohol content of 40%.

Weeks later, Brew Dog is now announcing the creation of their latest brew, Sink the Bismark, that one-up’s the Bavarian Beast by 1% with an ABV of 41%.  And I am getting tired.

Now, I am not opposed to avantgarde brewing and feel that for my purposes Reinheitsgebot is a tad silly.  I am not opposed to big ABV beers.  In fact, I brewed up a 17.4% Belgian Stout; however, in mind was not highly elevated alcohol, but rather a unique flavor.  In fact, Mike defended Tactical Nuclear Penguin, and I agreed with every word he said.  I uphold Brew Dog as brewery that makes fantastic beer, and champion their right to brew up a beast of a beer and still call it beer.

I suppose I’d offer up a cautionary tidbit of advice to brewers, including myself as a homebrewer:  Let’s keep exceptional flavor in focus as the desired end result rather than peripherals such as enormous ABV’s.

For the record, I still want to try all of aforementioned beers in this article, and please do not misconstrue my words as passing judgment upon Brew Dog or Schorschbräu as having forgotten their first love of better beer, because I do not believe they have.  Unlike certain critics, I’ll concede that Brew Dog’s latest creation is still “beer.”  I  just hope that in the next few months I hear less of the world’s strongest beer, and more of the world’s tastiest beer.

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.

Brewed in Scotland since 2000 B.C. heather ale is probably the oldest style of ale still produced in the world. From an ancient Gaelic recipe for “leann fraoich” (heather ale) it has been revived and reintroduced to the Scottish culture.

Into the boiling bree of malted barley, sweet gale and flowering heather are added, then after cooling slightly the hot ale is poured into a vat of fresh heather flowers where it infuses for an hour before being fermented.

A light amber ale with floral peaty aroma, full malt charachter, a spicy herbal flavour and dry wine like finish.

I believe that the use of Sweet Gale and the Heather Flower is not just for flavor, but also for preservation, as hops don’t (or at least didn’t) grow in Scotland.  The Hop addict had better steer clear of this brew if he is looking for a fix!  Coming in at a modest 5% ABV, this unique beer, classified as a Scottish Gruit, is a treat.

The Pour:

Pours a crisp golden/orange color with a bright white one finger head that dissipates slowly.  There is not much carbonation activity, just a few lazy bubble making their way to the surface.  Nothing remarkable going on here.

The Nose:

Since the pour was semi-boring, the beer finds redemption in the aroma.  The wafting floral aromas are unavoidable and pleasant.  It reminds me of lilac and perfume.  There is a thin malt smell that, combined with the herbal/flora odors, produces peach and orange notes.

The Taste:

I was a little nervous to taste this based of strong perfume aroma.  Have you ever been around a guy who finds his manhood in the application of half a bottle of Old Spice to his neck and found yourself not just smelling but tasting his cologne?  This is what I was afraid of.  It was unwarranted.  I found the beer to be fairly balanced.  The heather flower does indeed impact your senses the second the beer fills your mouth, but is immediately subdued by both the sweet gale, that leaves a sort of pine/green tea flavor, as well as the mildly honey-sweet malt that has a crisp bitter finish.

Be warned:  The after taste of this brew is slightly floral, but many, including myself, will enjoy it.

Scottish Beer History:

I would hate to see any reader miss out on the fascinating history of Scottish beer.  Click on this entire paragraph to go to Fraoch’s website to discover ancient beer history.

Nate’s Rating:

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★☆ 

Among other Scottish Ale's that I've had: ★★★¾☆ 

The Pour: SkullSplitter is a brown beer with touches of red.  Wouldn’t it be cool if it were blood color? There is a nice but not too long-lasting head, which is okay by me.

The Nose: There was a juicy, slight melon quality that I could detect on the nose of the beer.  It had a nice vinous (wine-like) quality from the 8.5% ABV present.  Some coffee tones were also notable in the body.  I even caught a touch of hops, which is unusual for many Scottish Ales.  (By the way, here is a post about Scottish Ales.)  But the biggest part of this 90 shilling/Wee Heavy Ale was the sweet-smelling, malt body.

The Taste: Plenty of residual sweetness and malts were readily apparent on the first sip.  As I said about the nose, there was a tinge of hops as well.  Coffee touches, deep roasted grains, and vinous fruits could easily be detected in the beer.  The fruit might have been honey dew melon.  The beer finished with a dry maltiness, which had a smoked peatiness to it.

Overall, I think this beer is a classic version of what a malty Scottish Ale ought to be (aside from the slight deviation on hops).  If you want a real treat, age a bottle from 3 to 5 years.  Not too long ago, I drank a bottle that I had for about 3 or 4 years, and boy did it age well.,,it made my little brother go looking for some.  Yummy!  Pick up four, but check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Mike’s Rating

Overall Satisfaction: ★★★★¼ 

Among other Scottish Ales that I've had: ★★★★½ 

Among other Ales: ★★★★☆ 

In some ways, Scottish Ales are sort of like English Mild Ales in that they lack hop bitterness, flavor, and aroma.  Yet they are often stronger than their English counter-parts, both in alcohol and malts.  You can often see Scottish Ales under the following designations: light, heavy, export and wee heavy.  These will also be seen as 60, 70, 80 and 90 shilling ales.

Unlike America, many beer brewing nations pay the amount of tax on beer based on how much alcohol is in the beer (in the U.S. it is a flat rate per volume, per barrel).  This last fact goes on to explain why the nomenclature of 60, 70, 80 and 90 shillings factors into the price and strength of these beers, 60 being the weakest and 90 being very strong.  Extra tax means extra cost.  But what makes Scottish Ales stick out?

In my observation, they are a lot like many Bock beers because they are very malt-driven products with little aroma hops.  They tend to be slightly to very sweet and can often include smoked malts or smoked peat moss (maybe not so coincidentally, they often use peat in the making of Scotch).  There are also companies in Scotland that are trending toward using traditional ingredients such as seaweed, pine needles, and other ingredients to bitter and flavor their ales.  In a place that the hop isn’t usually emphasised, this makes a lot of sense.  They are not simply being iconoclasts; hops have not had an extremely long tradition in brewing.  Either way you look at them, Scottish Ales can be very interesting and wonderful beers.  Try ’em when you can, lads and lassies.

A light golden and very active body was immediately evident when I poured the beer.  There was also a very stable head, which I’m sure was kept up by the very bubbly Ale.  Although it is a wheat Ale, and they describe it as being hazy, it was pretty clear at room temp (which is how I drink most beers). 

Nose-wise, Grozet was malty and almost lagerish in its aroma, while having a slight metallic aroma (and taste).  The aroma of Gooseberries was present but not overpowering.  Spicy hops aromas were also present in the smell.

Gooseberries were present in the taste of the beer, but once again, not overpowering.  There was a very slight alcohol quality that could be tasted along with a clovish hint provided by the fact that the beer was wheaty (cloves being commonly noticeable in wheat beers).  I thought the beer was good but nothing “historic.”

Although the beer is only 4% ABV, don’t let that fool you.  It is far fuller than many a beer (especially of the commercial variety).  When I poured my beer into the glass, I noted its deep reddish-brown color.  It smacked of a lovely lassie’s hair.  Gorgeous in the glass.  There was a light brown and creamy, long-lasting head on the brew.  It was fairly spritzy and active as I looked at it in the glass.  The aesthetics of the ale were very nice.

When I sniffed this concoction, I noted a hoppy aroma.  It was flowery in its hoppy aspects.  The hops were not overpowering in that I also noted a dry malty and metallic odor in the beer.  Also noticeable in the beer was the yeast aroma and a hint of fruits (maybe cherries, which was touched upon in the flavors).  I even noted a toffee and woodsy hint on the nose.

In terms of the taste, there was a slight roastiness/toastiness.  The biscuit malt was noticeable.  When I tasted this beer there was a dry bitterness to it.  Near the middle to the end of the tasting I noted a pronounced grassy and earthy taste to the beer.

I drank this beer and tried to pair it with various flavors and textures.  The gambit of food ranged from dried chili-seasoned chickpeas to cranberries.  In the end, I really enjoyed this beer with some fried rice I had made the night before.  I just felt like it pair beautifully with this Asian style dish.  Let us know what you thought!