It seems the yeast have not been resting for the last eight years, and a gush of foam was my reward for their labours. It settles to dark mahogany, with quite a few chunky dregs making their way from the bottom of the bottle into the glass.
I don't remember this being a particularly vinous beer, but there's a lot of sweet and dark port character in the aroma, along with a hint of the cinnamon spicing. The bourbon waits to the flavour before making itself felt, bringing a lime citrus sourness and some woody vanilla. The spices have been quite muted under this, turning medicinal, and there's a tang of vinegar that doesn't add any seasonal goodwill for me.
This was always a surprisingly thin beer, not a heavy, syrupy job. Time has thinned it out even further and, with the extra acid tang, that's not an improvement. It's a bit of an enamel-stripper now, and while the wine-ish quality is enjoyable, the beer hasn't mellowed with time, and is now a something of a chore to drink. It's quite surprising to find that cellaring doesn't suit something of this nature.
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