The White Hag Barrel Aged Black Boar

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2015 | ABV: 10.2% | On The Beer Nut: October 2014

Strictly speaking, this beer hasn't been covered previously, as it's the barrel aged version, released a year after the original formed part of The White Hag's launch line-up. It's close enough for my purposes, however, and the ABV is the same. The 75cl bottle with a sealed-on cap should mean it has held up well, even after a full decade in my sub-optimal cellaring conditions. As I struggled to prise open the thick layer of wax, I hoped that the oxygen had as much trouble getting in as I did.

From the initial taste, I thought something had gone horribly wrong. There's a huge phenolic character sitting up front, all peat and seaweed. I had not noticed that the barrels it was aged in were Highland scotch, and it was clearly one of the peated varieties. There's no whisky spirit nor oaken spice, just that earthy peat. I was half way through the first glass before I could taste anything else.

The stout beneath is pristine, without a hint of oxidation, autolysis or anything else untoward. I suspect that this tastes identical to when it went into the bottle. Peat aside, it's more a beer of texture than flavour, lightly carbonated and incredibly smooth. That's easily interpreted in a less positive way, of course: the subtle coffee and caramel I noted in plain Black Boar has been drowned out by the blousy barrel, and there's no sign of evolution of extra complexity after ageing: no thinning out from in-bottle attenuation, despite bottle conditioning, and none of the vinous qualities that a little oxidation can bring to a beer like this.

This one is good for quite a few more years yet, I'd say, if you're holding a bottle. And it'll still taste mostly of peat regardless of how long it's left.

Four Provinces Láidir

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2020 | ABV: 6.2% | On The Beer Nut: May 2018

The can had warped a little, which seems to be a common issue with the canned beers in the stash, what with global warming and all. I've lost a few through explosions, but nothing of particular value. I would have been sorry if I lost this, since the brewery no longer makes it, and it being a superb beer, as I recall.

This looks to be a second generation can, with a best before date of May 2021. It still smelled fresh and chocolatey as soon as the tab was pulled. There's a tiny autolytic quality to the flavour; a smidge of Bovril beefyness that wasn't there before, but it's not very pronounced. Mostly it's still the rich coffee and cocoa that has always been Láidir's central character, very well preserved and tasty. Although fermentation seems to have been happening in the can, it hasn't thinned out much, and retains the silky smooth high-class chocolate creaminess.

While I don't think the beer has improved or disimproved during its ageing, this does make me miss Láidir as an once-accessible locally-brewed beer of very high quality. I'm pleased that Four Provinces has recently been revitalised, and that Piper and Féile are showing up on draught taps around my area of Dublin. I would love to see Láidir back, however. Big dark beers are in too short supply. On the can they called this one "robust" and, five years in, I can say it absolutely is.

BrewDog Tokyo*

Origin: UK | Date: 2017 | ABV: 16.5% | On The Beer Nut: June 2010

A caveat to the claim above: in 2010 Tokyo* was 18.2% ABV and that's the version I reviewed. The brewery since discovered that their yeast didn't like this high gravity work and so it was changed. By 2017, when BrewDog sent me this bottle, it had been reduced to 16.5% ABV. That's still pretty strong, I guess.

Seven years in the attic has brought some autolysis to the game, with more than a suggestion of soy sauce in the aroma. It's quite flat and, happily, I don't get very much of the savoury autolysis thing from its taste. Instead, it's chocolate all the way: an almost one-dimensional hit of cocoa-rich dark chocolate, with a backing of viscous caramel, a rapid shot of espresso, and a dusting of smoke on top. I said of the original that I found it mellow and soothing, and that's true here as well, but I think it may have lost some of the complexity, with no dark fruit apparent.

Still, it remains a beautiful sipping beer, dripping with a class which the brewery's marketing end never managed. While I don't think it has necessarily improved with the recipe change and the cellaring. it's still a very enjoyable, understated, high-end imperial stout.

Hopfully 12 Lovers

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2019 | ABV: 6.5% | On The Beer Nut: December 2019

Today is Baltic Porter Day. Confelicitations to all who celebrate; the rest of you, keep up. For the occasion I've dug out this one from Hopfully's contract brewing days, produced at what's now their headquarters in Waterford but back then was still Metalman Brewing. According to my contemporary review, I liked it, even though it didn't present typical Baltic porter features to any great extent. Let's see if it's become any more authentic after a spell in the stash.

It still pours well, with the head forming exactly as perfectly as when fresh. There's only a very faint dark chocolate hint in the aroma, perhaps suggesting that its dark lager nature has reasserted itself. I think it has dried out: the flavour doesn't have the chocolate and caramel I described in the original version.

Instead, it's grown-up and savoury profile: dried grape, winter spices and alcohol, somewhere between a posh mince pie and a Negroni. The finish is a tarry sort of bitterness, with some strong green herbs, al dente asparagus and a twist of black pepper. There's complexity for days, and what I've written covers merely one facet of it. It's still not quite a proper Baltic porter, however: too big and too sticky, suggesting that if they did use a lager yeast in the first place, it hasn't taken.

Nevertheless, I deem this a triumph of ageing canned beer. It was my only stashed can, so if you have one, now is great for drinking it.

Guinness Draught

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2018 | ABV: 4.2% | On The Beer Nut: n/a

In 2018, the Christmas gift from Diageo to the media people on its PR list was eight litres of Guinness Draught. A big box containing two eight-packs of 500ml cans arrived on my doorstep. It's not a beer I'm especially fond of, but over the ensuing months, well into 2019, I got through them, one by one. Coming towards the end, though I can't tell you exactly when, I thought I noticed something: was the flavour changing? Improving, even? Is there a case for including this unlikely beer in my dubious and disorganised vintage beer project? With the idea planted, there was no question of me not doing it, so the final can went into the stash.

15th August 2019 is the date on the bottom of it. It's no different on pouring to the fresh version: the widget has maintained its payload perfectly. There's a little bit of aroma, the nitrogen not killing that end of things off completely, though there's nothing special, just the typical Guinnessy mix of dark dry toast and sharper acidity.

It's in the flavour where I think we've had some evolution. It's definitely more flavoursome than when young, and I wish I had a fresh can to hand to compare. The tartness has both increased and become more rounded, adding a kind of classy balsamic vinegar effect. Conversely, that finishes on a sweeter note, with some chocolate, which is something in most stouts that I find missing in Guinness, and a little maraschino cherry. We're back to regular programming with the quick finish and minimal aftertaste. 

While it's far from a radical transformation, especially for a solid six years of ageing, equally I've reviewed canned beers on here to which less had happened. That bonus burst of complexity in the middle of the flavour makes it a worthwhile experiment. Flanders red is one of my favourite beer styles, and this seemed to be on its way to becoming one. I'm going to try the experiment again, but for longer.

Porterhouse Barrel Aged Celebration Stout

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2011 | ABV: 11% | On The Beer Nut: February 2012

This is the third version of Porterhouse Celebration Stout to feature on the blog, having already done the original 10% ABV one (twice!) and the 7% ABV regular one, now no longer in production. This is the Kilbeggan barrel-aged special that appeared briefly in the winter of 2011/12 and I don't think has been around since.

I was impressed by this when first tasted, admiring the big whiskey flavours and decadent chocolate richness, and also noticed that it was tricky getting a head to form. 12+ years later the head is a lost cause, fizzing away quickly to nothing on pouring. The aroma is fairly minimal, offering token custard-like vanilla but not much spirituous warmth. Thankfully the chocolate is still there in the flavour, and it hasn't picked up any nasty oxidation, which is always a worry with these pull-tab Porterhouse stoppers. There's whiskey too: I had thought it more bourbon-like when fresh, but age has mellowed it into the smooth and honeyish Irish whiskey I expected originally. There's no richness, however. The main thing that age has done to this is thin it out.

I can't say it has gained any extra complexity. It certainly doesn't taste like something that's been matured for over a decade. It's still very good, however, retaining much of what made it great in the first place. I'm glad this isn't my last bottle.

DOT Brew Cellar 8

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2019 | ABV: 14.4% | On The Beer Nut: December 2019

Today's beer is an interloper, having come to me recently from the stash of someone else; someone who realised that after more than four years of hoarding it that they just didn't have a use case for a double-digit, double-barrel-aged rye wine. Well on this dark and chilly evening, I certainly do.

When first released, the liquid was already two years old, a blend of amber ales aged in two different types of whiskey barrels. Now it's had even longer, a waxed cap actually making itself useful for once. The aroma still offers subtle, warming notes of dark sherry and unmistakable alcohol. It has held on to its light sparkle and there's no nasty oxidation, other than what's allowed to be there from the sherry component. No vinegary tang, either. In fact I'm not seeing much difference between this now and how I described it in 2019. Fancy chocolate, plum pudding, and a subtle whiskey warmth all still present, and absolutely nothing to complain about.

I confess that I thought the only thing that would happen here is the beer would get worse. I don't know what could have happened to improve it. As things are, I'm very happy with the serendipitous stability.