Eight Degrees The Good

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2017 | ABV: 10.9% | On The Beer Nut: June 2017

This beer was originally intended as part of the Christmas 2016 range from Eight Degrees but ended up delayed until the following spring. Even then, I thought at the time that it would benefit from some cellaring to smooth out its sharp edges, and the heavy hops in particular. It's time to check in again, and I have no memory of how it tasted, so am more interested in whether it's good than whether it's improved. 

It's good. There are still vestiges of its former self in there, though the harsh bitter kick has been replaced by a dry tannic quality. Before that there's a big jammy malt buzz, like moist fruitcake and ruby port. Raisin, glacé cherry and high-cocoa chocolate all feature. It's a fun mix of dry and sweet, with a lasting aftertaste of red vermouth.

I don't get any sense of this being an aged beer: no oxidation or autolysis, though only a little extra bonus smoothness. While it has definitely changed, I can't say whether it has peaked or not, but I do have another bottle so perhaps we'll find out in another few years.

Eight Degrees Devil's Ladder

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2020 | ABV: 11.5% | On The Beer Nut: December 2020

I do like it when someone else does the cellaring for me. Eight Degrees sent their annual seasonal gift package during the week (thanks folks!) and along with the recent releases it included one from a year ago. The base of the can tells me that this was packaged on 3rd December 2020 and therefore is best before 3rd December 2022. Throw it out to the beer bloggers, sure. They'll drink anything.

I wasn't expecting a canned tripel (aged in sherry casks) to have changed much in a year, especially since the brewery was most likely storing it correctly through the summer. I said it was clean and crisp and boozy, originally, with notes of mead and dessert wine. And I think it has changed a bit, reverting to something that tastes much more like a typical tripel. The sherry is still there in the aroma but it doesn't make much of a contribution to the flavour. I get banana esters primarily, and then honey (not mead), clove and cinnamon. As it warms, a growing toffee backbone emerges.

The difference with the fresh version, or at least my notes on it, was surprising. I guess the general rule that pale beers aren't enhanced as well with time as dark ones holds true for tripels also. This seems to have lost some of its delicate complexity. It's still perfectly serviceable, however, so enjoy it if you have one, but maybe don't sit on it too much longer.

Cantillon Gueuze

Origin: Belgium | Dates: 2016 & 2021 | ABV: 5.5% | On The Beer Nut: October 2007

Not all beers improve with age. The strong and dark ones get the best press, which is fair enough, but vintage gueze is also revered. It's a phenomenon about which I am sceptical. I like the clean zest of young gueze and am not at all convinced that letting it age out is necessarily a good idea. Luckily, I have this blog for the testing of opinions like this and today I'm tasting the difference blind.

The field of play is two bottles of Cantillon Gueuze, one bottled in March 2016 and one bottled five years and two days later. The cork of the vintage one was saturated in beer but hadn't turned mouldy, as sometimes happens. Feature one of age is fizz, with the older edition much more foamy on pouring. With that comes sediment: the one that turned out to be the 2016 was much cloudier than the 2021, which was a bright amber-gold.

I was on the lookout for that zest effect, and the 2021 had lots of it in its aroma, all fresh and zingy lemon spritz. The older one smells funkier, with a more pronounced earthy aroma, hinting a little at blue cheese. Both are excellent but, as mentioned, my taste runs more to the zest.

The difference between them is not as apparent on tasting. The 2016 is smooth with notes of old oak and a waxy bitterness. The gunpowder and black pepper spicing arrives late. I found the younger version to be sharper, with an almost vinegar tang in the foretaste. The zest is present but not as prominent as I noticed in the aroma. It's still very very good, but less complex than the matured one, and complexity beats zest, for me. The spices in particular are missing and I wonder if that's something that comes with the sediment build-up. Even down in the dregs of the 2021 bottle there was a tasty nitric sharpness but not much spice.

I have learned a lesson here: geuze is very much worth ageing. I'm sure there's an upper limit on that -- the brewery suggests 20 years. I'll see how far I get with my last bottle of 2016.

The Bruery Grey Monday

Origin: USA | Date: 2017 | ABV: 20% | On The Beer Nut: December 2017

We had a jolly time of it, at St James's Gate, for the International Stout Day celebrations in 2017. The Bruery was the celebrity American brewery with beers in attendance, big 75cl bottles, and Padraig backhanded me a bottle of the strongest one, Grey Monday, as I was leaving. It's been in the attic ever since. A beer this strength will probably keep forever, but I won't, so it's getting opened now after only three and a half years' maturation. At least I get to spend a bit of time with it uninterrupted here.

I didn't say a lot about it on its original outing, finding it lighter than expected with predominantly easy-going chocolate notes. And I don't think it's radically different after nearly four years in poor cellaring conditions. It hasn't turned to sherry or vinegar; nor has it matured to the perfect late-night sipper. There's still a lot of chocolate, and maybe it's become a little darker, bitterer and more challenging than before, but not significantly. I get a novel buzz of espresso roast, but I may have missed that last time.

Fresh from stash to fridge to glass it was all very light and easy-going, but it only took a few minutes of warming in a kitchen in August for the booze to properly assert itself. I noticed marker pen first time out, and that's certainly still here, but it's integrated into a greater booziness -- whiskey, brandy and schnapps -- which really shows off that whopping ABV honestly. After a while, that's all that matters: the sippable beery nuance fades to irrelevance and you're dealing with a slightly fizzy liqueur. Make your peace with that.

Maybe I should have left this longer. Maybe it would have become richer and more interesting. But it's equally likely it's just going to turn into some sort of autolysed chocolate marinade. I got my buzz off it before it was ruined, and I'm happy with that. Cheers Foxy!

Lough Gill Imperial Oatmeal Coffee Cream Stout

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2017 | ABV: 11% | On The Beer Nut: February 2017

There have been cans in the stash for a while now but today is the first time I've opened one to see what's happened to it. This was the originator of Lough Gill's short-lived "Rebel Stout" series, a then-limited edition which now lives in their core range under the name Dark Majik with a much more tasteful label.

I think it's a suitable candidate for can-ageing, being a whopping 11% ABV, and it's only had four years or so. What harm? Oatmeal, coffee and cream would probably get this classified as a pastry stout these days, though the name wasn't in use at the time. It doesn't smell sweet, however, coming across dry and boozy, with a touch of sherry-like oxidation.

The creamy chocolate side is still there in the flavour, tasting as fresh as when it was new; as is the dark fruit of Bramling Cross hops. I guess cans really do seal the good stuff in well. I get maybe a faint hint of sweet dark sherry but it's heavily buried under everything else going on.

I think this beer was only just beginning to show the effects of age. I'm guessing that in time it would have dried out into something funky and leathery. After four years it's still in the first flush of easy-drinking youth. The lesson for the stash may be that cans will need more time before the interesting stuff starts happening, if it ever does.

Courage Imperial Russian Stout

Origin: UK | Date: 2012 | ABV: 10% | On The Beer Nut: February 2013

That (to me) over-hoppiness will, I feel fairly confident, die down over the next year or two, making this a beer I really, really want to come back to about May 2013, and again in 2014. And, ideally, in 2021. 

So wrote Martyn Cornell in the conclusion of his run through a series of vintages of Courage Imperial Russian Stout, composed following the release of a new version by Wells & Young. And now 2021 is upon us and it's time to find out if the beer has fared better than the Luton brewery has.

My bottle is actually a whole year younger than Martyn's, being the 2012 vintage. The hop levels never bothered me when it was fresh and I think they have stood the beer in good stead. There is still that metallic bitterness, but now it's adding a much needed dry side to something that otherwise tastes largely of chocolate syrup and dark sherry. There's a vinous, casky briskness, and just a little savoury autolysis. All the features of long-vintaged strong dark beers are here, but not extreme. You know you're drinking something old, though not spoilt; not yet anyway.

It's not a revelation, and I'm not even sure it's an improvement on the fresh version, but it is enjoyable. A new sweet side has emerged, adding a mellow richness that wasn't there before. The oxidation is a little dramatic, even if it's not ruinous. If this beer has a sweet spot, I'd say it's before the 9-year mark.