Porterhouse Celebration Stout

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2006 & 2016 | ABV: 10% & 6.5% | On The Beer Nut: October 2006 & August 2016

I noted on the main blog recently that The Porterhouse celebrated thirty years as a Temple Bar pub and associated beer brand with a red ale, whereas normally these anniversaries are marked with a stout. It seems like an appropriate occasion to get out a bottle each of said stouts and see how they're faring.

This is my only bottle of the 2016 Celebration Stout, the last and weakest beer to bear the name: down at 6.5% ABV from the original's 10% and the intervening versions' 7.5% and 7%. I have no faith in the pull-tab bottle cap's ability to keep oxygen out, hence didn't keep a substantial number of these. Still, it doesn't smell off, having a lovely vinous port aroma with overtones of dark chocolate and cork: proper vintage stout vapours. The chocolate is at the centre of the flavour, and is more prominent than the hard liquorice bitterness with which it led when fresh. Still no unpleasant oxidation in the taste, though there's a growing meaty quality, suggesting some autolysis may have occurred. It remains good clean fun, however, with a seriousness that belies its modest strength. Boozy fortified wine follows the chocolate, and there's a vegetal old-world hop bite too. Assertive bitterness was rare in stouts then, and it's rarer still today, so I really enjoyed finding one that does it properly. I will look doubly hard to see if I have a further bottle of this buried somewhere in the stash, because I think it will keep a little longer yet.

It's only four years since I last opened a bottle of the 2006 tenth anniversary stout, the full 10% ABV one, in the half-litre bottle. It also made an appearance for its own tenth birthday in 2016. In 2022 I deemed it probably past its best, so wasn't expecting much from this. Certainly, the appearance was disappointing, with no more than a desultory effort at a head. There's a strong hint of cardboard and sherry in the aroma, suggesting oxidation is fully under way, though I got some residual chocolate and burnt caramel as well. So the flavour was a surprise. It's very mellow, with no sharp edges or any strong bitterness. A wisp of bonfire smoke is as severe as it gets, but there's a surprise fruity element: the cherry and raisin of a dense and chewy Christmas cake. Behind it, a metallic mineral rasp where the hops are refusing to age out gracefully, plus a spark of firework or incense spices. This has taken an upturn in complexity and overall pleasantness since I last had it. Maybe there's something to this beer-ageing nonsense after all. I think there was just one bottle left in the box, and I won't be in a hurry to open it.

I'll go out on a limb and suggest that it's because these were classically well-constructed stouts from a brewery that knows its way around the style backwards, that they're still both very good drinking, a decade or two after bottling. The Porterhouse doesn't make its own stouts any more, nor are any of its beers bottled and, as we've seen, it was a red ale for the 30th anniversary. That serves to make this pair extra precious. I'm glad they weren't disasters.

Beoir#1

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2014 | ABV: 9% 
On The Beer Nut: April 2014 | On Stash Killer!: September 2017

Over on the other blog I write daft puns and oblique references for the post titles. Here, I don't do that (it's exhausting) but if I did, this one would be called "To The Faithful Departed". I have reviewed Beoir#1 here before, but a few years after that I inherited a couple of extra bottles from Andrew Moore, the man who orchestrated the beer's creation and distribution but didn't live to drink all of his own allocation. This is one of those.

By way of background, it was created on foot of a crowd-funding project by Black's of Kinsale and had been an attempt to make Ireland's first double IPA, though was beaten to the punch by Galway Bay's now legendary Of Foam & Fury. Though the fresh hops were long gone by 2017, it was still good drinking. And now, almost nine years after that?

At first I thought all the carbonation was gone, but it's a viscous creature, and though it began by pouring flat, a head did form. It has got darker, presumably from oxidation, and has passed out of amber and into deep garnet or even brown. There's still a trace of the port aroma from last time out, but it has deepened further, into chocolate and toffee. It smells beautiful, though.

Amazingly, the first thing that hits on tasting is the hops: still bitter after all these years, presenting a very English mix of metals and minerals. After that there's a rush of tannin, something which had been a feature from the get-go but is now the central character, by a long way. Where there used to be port-like grape and musky spices there's only old leather and raw tea leaves. Its smoothness and relatively gentle alcoholic heat prevent it from turning harsh, which is good. I still think it's past its best, though. The complexity is gone. A winey nose and starkly dry flavour are all you really get.

Still, it hasn't spoiled, and although I'm sure that evil oxygen has been getting busy in it, it hasn't quite turned to cardboard. My advice is to drink it now anyway, unless the sentimental value of the liquid is what matters.

Cheers Andrew.

YellowBelly The Last Stand

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2019 | ABV: 8.2% | On The Beer Nut: December 2019

Poignancy is rare on this blog, but today's beer is something of a nostalgia bomb. It's one of the final releases from YellowBelly, the most fun brewery of the late lamented Irish beer boom. This one ended the last of their annual runs of exclusive beers for club subscribers.

I see from my 2019 review that it was brown. It seems to have brightened up over the years, because this glass of it was distinctly red, in a mahogany or teak way. There's a fresh raspberry zing in the aroma, alongside wine-like cork and a hint of toffee. Still, the sweet malt is its main feature, and there was never any fresh hop character to lose. But while the various elements were easily pulled apart for analysis while fresh, age appears to have mellowed and melded its flavours.

Doing my best anyway, I find smooth and runny toffee hitting against brightly tart raspberry and strawberry. There's a distinct background of tannin, suggesting the beer has dried out in the can as it aged. I get a spice element as well -- part clove and part pepper -- which I'm reasonably sure wasn't there when it was fresh.

It's lovely. With all the cans up in the stash these years, I was beginning to fear that beer doesn't actually mature in them, just occasionally explodes. This one indicates that fun stuff still happens under the aluminium blanket. No oxidation, no infection, just a clearly agéd barley wine, smoothed out and highly enjoyable with it.

There is still YellowBelly beer out there, contract brewed and occasionally rebadged as pub house beers. I buy them when I see them. Poignant.

The White Hag Yule

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2017 | ABV: 7.2% | On The Beer Nut: December 2014

Picking a time to drink beers from the stash is this blog's biggest (only?) challenge. Well, it's almost Christmas, and there were a few bottles of specifically Christmassy beer, so what better time to tackle the 2017 edition of The White Hag's bourbon-aged cinnamon and ginger ale? The label even specifies "it's the perfect accompaniment to the longest night of the year."

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.

Exploding can special

I don't know why I even had these. It certainly wasn't with the intention of seeing if they improved with age: the styles involved aren't really built for that. This summer's warm weather resulted in some warped cans, and I lost a few which ruptured, so I took that as a signal to try these out before they explode completely.

Eight Degrees Orange Ball

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2019 | ABV: 3.9% | On The Beer Nut: August 2019

I guess it was the orange, passionfruit and guava that are responsible for the gas build-up in this. Any freshness from the tropical fruit has departed, though there's still a pithy orange aroma, driven by plenty of fizz. My original review noted tea-like tannins, and that's the main feature of the flavour. The citrus is less apparent, leaving just an oily residue in the finish. It's not unpleasant, even if it's very much not as the brewer intended. The only downsides are an unwelcome sour staleness and a slightly metallic tang. I'm wondering if that's an inherent problem with old canned beers, especially pale ones. We'll see how that pans out in the others. It seems that some residue from the orange had clumped together and that was waiting at the bottom of the glass, increasing the intensity of the orange effect as I neared the end.

I wouldn't recommend cellaring this beer, and obviously it hasn't improved with age. It's still drinkable, however, so if you happen across some, no need to drain pour it, before you taste it anyway.

Eight Degrees Seisíun

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2018 | ABV: 4.5% | On The Beer Nut: July 2016

Took me a while to find my original review of this. It was called "Summer Days" at launch, then renamed for year-round drinking.

There shouldn't have been any rogue fermentables in this one, but the can warped anyway, though it didn't gush. Inside, the beer was a normal-looking hazy amber colour. There's an aroma of grapefruit which is pleasant, even if it's not exactly overwhelming with freshness. Unsurprisingly, the flavour is all about the bitterness rather than any fruity top notes, and yes, there's that metallic tang again.

Regardless, I think this one may have actually developed some positive complexity from the ageing. Along with the pithy orange bitterness, there's a coconut thread running through the middle of it, and a light cinnamon spicing too. That makes it all a bit Christmassy, which is fun, and not something I expected from a core-range session IPA.

The White Hag Unfinished Business

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2019 | ABV: 4.5% | On The Beer Nut: December 2019

An all-Mosaic lager can't possibly have improved. This was another gusher, with barely enough condition left after pouring to form a head. Again it's a pithy aroma to start with, harsh and bitter, with none of the tropicality from when it was fresh. I think the metallic tang is here in the flavour but if so it's very muted. There's a hard-water mineral quality: intensely clean thanks to the cool fermentation. The hops sit on top of this, bringing unsubtle marmalade and jaffa peel. It definitely seems like the tropical flavour compounds have broken down, but the residual citrus is ensuring this beer remains worthwhile, six years after packaging. Even though the hops aren't fresh, I liked how the lager element is still pristine, lacking any off flavours or staleness.

For the most part, these were better than I expected. While of course I don't recommend that anyone age pale ales or hoppy lagers in the hope of improving them, not least because of the risk of explosion, it seems it takes a lot to properly ruin a beer once it's in its aluminium jacket. There are some more up there. If they start showing signs of internal disturbance, I'll get them blogged here too.

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.

Franciscan Well Jameson Stout

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2012 | ABV: 7.8% | On The Beer Nut: December 2012

This is my second and final bottle of this beer in the stash. When I reviewed it here in 2017, I remarked that it hadn't changed much, but may be on the cusp of either greatness or ruin. Today we find out.

The carbonation seems to have been a victim in the intervening years and it really doesn't want to form a head at all. And if gas has been getting out then presumably gas has been getting in. It certainly seems drier, and a little papery, but is far from ruined by oxidation, I'm happy to say. With that newfound extra dryness, the chocolate element has been relegated to the background. The honeyed whiskey is completely gone.

It's actually all rather plain. The one new feature is a mild tangy sourness. Combined with the simplistic dry roast, it ends up tasting a bit like Draught Guinness, and it definitely didn't used to. The big and smooth texture is still there and is something of a redeeming feature, but this is well past its best.

It's still OK to drink, enjoyable even, but if you're still holding on to some, get it drank before something worse happens to it. I would be very surprised if it suddenly took a turn for the better. For the reason I'm opening this particular bottle now, see the main blog.

Metalman Decade

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2021 | ABV: 5.2% | On The Beer Nut: July 2021

New stash rule: if a beer looks explodey, it gets opened immediately. This tart porter with cherries certainly did, though the can seamer has proved fit for the task of keeping it all in. It was put away only two years ago, though is already of historical interest as Metalman has since folded. It's quite poignant that Decade was created to mark ten years in business when they had so few left.

The can was just shy of a year past its best-before and poured extremely fizzily, unsurprisingly, though in fairness it didn't gush out. It still smells properly roasty, and rich with it, in a way I don't think this beer did when fresh. Dryness is still a core feature, but it tastes mellow, not sharp: chocolate and mocha, rather than pure coffee beans. I also get more of the cherry than I did before, representing as a sweet jelly or jam, right on the finish. Amazingly, the fizz doesn't get in the way and it doesn't feel over attenuated.

I think this beer has rounded out nicely over the two years. All the benefits are preserved and what were once subtleties of flavour are more pronounced. That it doesn't taste drier than I remember it seems to be in defiance of science, but it's far more likely that my memory is at fault. Either way, if you have surviving cans of this and they don't look about to blow, they're worth drinking, or possibly even ageing further.

Hertog Jan Grand Prestige

Origin: Netherlands | Date: 2017 | ABV: 10% | On The Beer Nut: February 2009

If memory serves, it was literally the last day of 2017 when I picked this up in a supermarket in The Hague. The 2018s had already started appearing on the shelves so this was a last chance to get a 2017 into the stash. It's a mass-market beer from the world's biggest producer so I wasn't planning to age it long-term. Five and a bit years seems like a fair amount of time to check in with it.

Looking back on my review of a fresh one in 2009, it seemed quite a busy affair, all acetone and forest fruits. So it was a surprise that there's basically no aroma here, only minor hints of chocolate and raisins. The texture is very smooth, yet there's no heat, which is surprise given the strength.

If there were spiky higher-alcohol edges on this to begin with, they have all been planed off by time. The end result is a beautifully integrated palate of port and dark chocolate with flecks of vanilla, black cherry and cocoa. Black Forest gateau comes to mind. While it's not hot, it does have a warmth which I thoroughly enjoyed on this cold winter evening. It made me want to light the fire and sip slowly in front of it.

I genuinely expected this to be a mess so I'm delighted how it turned out. This is exactly what the stashing project was meant to bring out and I'll be buying more than one bottle of the next vintage I have the opportunity to collect.

Eight Degrees The Oak King

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2017 | ABV: 6.5% | On The Beer Nut: December 2017

Around this time every year the Eight Degrees press parcel would arrive: a box of bottles, cans and merch involving whatever special winter seasonal they had on the go at the time. I couldn't tell you if this bottle of their 2017 Brettanomyces-fermented barrel-aged pale ale came in one of those. I loved it on its release so it's entirely possible that I bought it. I notice from my notes at the time that the complexity of the bottled version outstripped that of the draught one. So how would it be after five years of maturation?

It looks pretty much the same as fresh: clear and coppery. It seems like nobody makes beer that looks like this any more. The wine barrel is still apparent in the aroma; the soft white grape sitting next to a promise of spicy Brett fireworks. That's not what materialises on tasting, however. The main feature is a rather dull and earthy farmyard funk, dusted with old-lady perfume of lavender and lilac. It's fine, but it's not what I thought five years of deathless Brett maturation would bring.

I guess what's happened is the same thing that happens to Orval: it dries out as the Brett keeps chomping. The result is subtle, but very much lacks the fun, fresh and fruity characteristics of the original. Your mileage may vary, but aged isn't how I best enjoy beers like this, given a preference.

BrewDog Jet Black Heart

Origin: UK | Date: 2017 | ABV: 4.7% | On The Beer Nut: April 2016

In 2017 I was lucky enough to win a prize in BrewDog's short-lived Beer Geek Awards. It included a box of beers which had some good stuff in it, but otherwise seemed to be assembled hastily from whatever was to hand in the office. Among them was today's beer, Jet Black Heart. BrewDog wasn't doing much in cans yet and this one is marked "Nitro Test D" on the bottom, becoming the first canned beer to go into the stash.

The nitro testing went well because, following the instruction to invert the can and pour hard, I got a lasting whipped-cream head on the stout. There's a little bit of staleness or oxidation in the aroma which isn't ideal for a sweet milk stout. The flavour is spot on, though: the chocolate and vanilla tasting as fresh as the day it was canned. There's a little hop bittering in the finish as well. I don't remember exactly how Jet Black Heart is supposed to taste but I'd be surprised if this isn't it.

I have a feeling that I'll get less value out of this blog as it makes the inevitable switch to canned beers. The evidence so far is that canning does too good a job of preserving a beer exactly as it was. Maybe I just need to leave them longer. We'll see.

Bosteels Pauwel Kwak

Origin: Belgium | Date: 2017 | ABV: 8.4% | On The Beer Nut: May 2007

We were transiting through Brussels airport, Dr John and I. At the emporium of boozy delights he acquired a Kwak giftpack for a friend who, he assured me, was only interested in the glass. So the beer was spare and he gave me two of them. One was cheekily necked in the departures area, but I saved the other for future use on my vintage beer blog. That was five years ago, which I deem long enough to find out if Kwak changes any over time. As a strong and dark Belgian ale, it feels like it should, though it doesn't get the vintage treatment in the same way the Trappists do.

It probably doesn't help things that I haven't had any Kwak since that evening in the airport but I have a reasonably strong impression of how it tastes: a big and heavy sweet-banana driven ale, especially high in esters, even for Belgium.

After five years, the first thing I notice is that the lees have settled in big lumps to the bottom of the bottle, suggesting it's been busy in there and should therefore be somewhat protected from oxidation. The aroma is muddy and bready, smelling like kvass, more than anything. Certainly not sweet. And the flavour has dried out considerably, dropping the banoffee in favour of raisins, nuts and dark sherry, with a backing of strong tea and a little toffee liqueur.

I think it's an improvement on fresh, and isn't a million miles from what happens to Orval over a similar timeframe. I never would have thought of ageing Kwak had I not acquired a spare bottle by sheer happenstance, but I'm glad I did.

Porterhouse Celebration Stout

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2006 | ABV: 10% | On The Beer Nut: October 2006

It's been another five years since this guy last appeared on this blog. I wanted to see how Ireland's seemingly indestructible first imperial stout of the craft era was getting on.

The brewery's branding has moved along so the glass is different but the beer still looked the same: a cola brownish black with a thin skim of beige foam on top. The aroma still has a slightly phenolic hit of TCP and marker pens, something I noted last time out so I'm not especially worried about it here.

With several more years of imperial stouts under my belt, what impresses me most is how dry it is: burnt toast and dry grass; not how anyone makes this sort of thing now. Secondly it's still pretty much totally devoid of off-flavours, with no more than a hint of sherry oxidation. That's kind of it, though. Looking back on my 2016 review I was awestruck by the complexity. This doesn't have that. It hasn't gone bad, but I think its peak may have passed. We've been left with a pint of earthy bogwater which is clean, but by no means a supreme imperial stout. Sic transit, etc.

I have a couple of bottles left, and with luck I'll get to them in due course, but I think this one's place as a special-occasion celebration beer is now lost, unless something else changes in it next.

YellowBelly Mashtun Millionaires

Origin: Ireland | Date: 2021 | ABV: 7.4% | On The Beer Nut: March 2021

It's about a year since I drank Mashtun Millionaires, one of a pair of beers which represented the final new releases from YellowBelly brewery, though we didn't know it at the time. The brewery had been doing everything right in terms of having a reliable core range, geek-pitched one-offs, two tied pubs and an overall plethora of good will. I guess it just wasn't enough. There's talk of a revival and I hope it works out.

Meanwhile, in Molloy's off licence recently, I spotted two bottles of Mashtun Millionaire in the expiring beer discount zone. First off, it's dated June 2022 so should be fine; secondly it's a strong Brett-fermented ale in an armoured Belgian bottle so should be absolutely fine; and thirdly it was priced at €2.50 a bottle so I bought both of the ones displayed. As it happened I had stashed a bottle that I acquired from the brewery last year for €6, so what better excuse to get it open?

Brett perfume is the first impression, mostly lavender and violet, with a greasy but enticing rotten funk in the background. The flavour takes that fermenting-flowers sweetness and adds in an incense spicing with some oaky vanilla. While all funky and farmyard to begin, the finish is pure and clean, with crisp white lemonade and sparkling dry cava.

In my original assessment I found it dirty and tough going to drink. I'm confident now that it has cleaned itself up and begun to fulfil its potential. I suspect it still has a way to go so don't crack your spare bottle just yet. Me, I'm very glad I have two more still in the stash.