Origin: Belgium/Netherlands | Date: 2011 | ABV: 12% | On The Beer Nut: September 2011
This imperial stout had me thinking about the role of coffee in beers. When it's used properly it's all about the freshness, giving the sensation of walking into a warm coffeehouse on a cold day. I can't imagine that coffee ages well when used in beer, even particularly robust ones. And Black Damnation II is certainly robust, constructed by blending two imperial stouts from Struise with a whisky-cask-aged one from De Molen, resulting in a 12% ABV masterpiece which I described in 2011 as tasting like an Irish coffee.
Not so much any more. Time has harshened what should be a really smooth experience. I blame the yeast: there's a substantial layer of sludge in the bottom of the small bottle and a definite autolytic twang in the flavour, a beefy Bovril taint upsetting the equilibrium. The coffee is still there but, as I suspected, it has lost its fresh oils and instead tastes burnt and bitter. There's a rusty metallic note as well and I've no idea where that might have come from -- oxidation maybe? -- but it's another bum note in a beer that already has enough of them.
I thought I had this ageing system down: that strong and dark aged beautifully indefinitely, but this is one of the strongest and darkest I've had on here and it's definitely gone to perdition.
Sunday, 5 February 2017
Sunday, 8 January 2017
Westmalle Dubbel
Origin: Belgium | Date: 2008 | ABV: 7% | On The Beer Nut: October 2007
It's a longtime favourite today. Westmalle Dubbel goes back to the very beginnings of my discovering beer, and my first drinking excursions to Belgium. Just one sip and I'm back at A L'Imaige De Nostre Dame in Brussels. But I've no idea how an aged bottle tastes. The original of the style is also the weakest I know of, and it's possible that a mere 7% ABV will not provide enough for time (eight years) to build upon. I'd better open it.
I haven't had a fresh one of these in a while, but I think it smells more pungent than they do, and an almost Pedro Ximinez level of ripe boozy raisin. There's sweet sherry in the flavour too, which is possibly just oxidation at work, but it does transform the beer in a fun and pleasant way. It hasn't become magically heavier than usual, but it has elements of the things you find in double-digit dark Belgian-style beers: the fruit, the cake, the rounded estery greasiness, though not the heat. It still remains lightly textured and easy drinking.
Seems to me like a handy way to upgrade your Westmalle Dubbel into something more complex is leave it alone for a few years.
It's a longtime favourite today. Westmalle Dubbel goes back to the very beginnings of my discovering beer, and my first drinking excursions to Belgium. Just one sip and I'm back at A L'Imaige De Nostre Dame in Brussels. But I've no idea how an aged bottle tastes. The original of the style is also the weakest I know of, and it's possible that a mere 7% ABV will not provide enough for time (eight years) to build upon. I'd better open it.
I haven't had a fresh one of these in a while, but I think it smells more pungent than they do, and an almost Pedro Ximinez level of ripe boozy raisin. There's sweet sherry in the flavour too, which is possibly just oxidation at work, but it does transform the beer in a fun and pleasant way. It hasn't become magically heavier than usual, but it has elements of the things you find in double-digit dark Belgian-style beers: the fruit, the cake, the rounded estery greasiness, though not the heat. It still remains lightly textured and easy drinking.
Seems to me like a handy way to upgrade your Westmalle Dubbel into something more complex is leave it alone for a few years.
Sunday, 4 December 2016
Bourbon County
Origin: USA | Date: 2009 | ABV: 13% | On The Beer Nut: April 2010
There was much fuss in the beer blogoshire, and further abroad, about the arrival of this one to the UK recently: just 100 bottles in the country, at £20 a pop. But before the Goose Island brewery was sold to the world's biggest mass-market brewer, its appearance was a far more casual affair. I acquired a couple of bottles of the 2009 vintage back in 2010 and this one has been sitting in the stash ever since.
Slightly worryingly, the cap is a twist-off, peeling away with just the faintest hiss. It glugs out thickly and flatly, giving off a faint beefy Bovril smell as it does so. A proper sniff moves away from that and gives me sweeter hot fudge and butterscotch sauces. The bourbon character comes out on tasting, and rather tasty it is too: sweet vanilla and bitter tar, glowering at each other but neither able to dominate. You get to take your time moving from one to the other because of the massively thick texture. There's also a very real whisky flavour, a pleasantly sweet burn, scorching the gullet and warming the innards: it's one of the truest expressions of whisky in beer I've ever encountered.
This is beautiful, classic, stuff, and completely untroubled by eight summers in my attic. Everything I wrote about it originally still rings true. If you've bought a bottle of the 2016 you probably don't need to think about opening it for a while yet.
There was much fuss in the beer blogoshire, and further abroad, about the arrival of this one to the UK recently: just 100 bottles in the country, at £20 a pop. But before the Goose Island brewery was sold to the world's biggest mass-market brewer, its appearance was a far more casual affair. I acquired a couple of bottles of the 2009 vintage back in 2010 and this one has been sitting in the stash ever since.
Slightly worryingly, the cap is a twist-off, peeling away with just the faintest hiss. It glugs out thickly and flatly, giving off a faint beefy Bovril smell as it does so. A proper sniff moves away from that and gives me sweeter hot fudge and butterscotch sauces. The bourbon character comes out on tasting, and rather tasty it is too: sweet vanilla and bitter tar, glowering at each other but neither able to dominate. You get to take your time moving from one to the other because of the massively thick texture. There's also a very real whisky flavour, a pleasantly sweet burn, scorching the gullet and warming the innards: it's one of the truest expressions of whisky in beer I've ever encountered.
This is beautiful, classic, stuff, and completely untroubled by eight summers in my attic. Everything I wrote about it originally still rings true. If you've bought a bottle of the 2016 you probably don't need to think about opening it for a while yet.
Sunday, 6 November 2016
Ola Dubh
Origin: UK | Date: 2009 | ABV: 8% | On The Beer Nut: February 2010
With the blog turning a year old tomorrow it's time to get started on a new season of Stash Killing. Harviestoun Ola Dubh is based on the brewery's classic dark ale Old Engine Oil and has been aged in barrels that previously contained Highland Park 12-year-old single malt whisky. Other versions using older casks are also available. I was a little put out by the marker pen phenols in this when I first tasted it so was interested to find out if seven years in the stash would smooth that out.
And yes, it does. What I was expecting next is the lovely rich chocolate flavours to come pouring out, spiced up with some whisky heat, but that's not what happened. While there's a distinct honey-and-vanilla whisky aroma, the flavour is very muted, verging on bland. There's a mild whisky taste at the front, and a touch of bitter tarry coffee, but the whole taste fades out very quickly. I think that's because the base beer doesn't have the body to carry it: this is startlingly thin for the strength. I guess this is why brewers tend to use bigger beers when they're doing the barrel thing.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with the beer, but it hasn't picked up any extra complexities through ageing and has quite possibly lost a few. I was surprised to see the brewery had put a mere three-year best-before on it, but perhaps this is why. Drink 'em if you've got 'em.
With the blog turning a year old tomorrow it's time to get started on a new season of Stash Killing. Harviestoun Ola Dubh is based on the brewery's classic dark ale Old Engine Oil and has been aged in barrels that previously contained Highland Park 12-year-old single malt whisky. Other versions using older casks are also available. I was a little put out by the marker pen phenols in this when I first tasted it so was interested to find out if seven years in the stash would smooth that out.
And yes, it does. What I was expecting next is the lovely rich chocolate flavours to come pouring out, spiced up with some whisky heat, but that's not what happened. While there's a distinct honey-and-vanilla whisky aroma, the flavour is very muted, verging on bland. There's a mild whisky taste at the front, and a touch of bitter tarry coffee, but the whole taste fades out very quickly. I think that's because the base beer doesn't have the body to carry it: this is startlingly thin for the strength. I guess this is why brewers tend to use bigger beers when they're doing the barrel thing.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with the beer, but it hasn't picked up any extra complexities through ageing and has quite possibly lost a few. I was surprised to see the brewery had put a mere three-year best-before on it, but perhaps this is why. Drink 'em if you've got 'em.
Sunday, 28 August 2016
Porterhouse Celebration Stout
Origin: Ireland | Date: 2006 | ABV: 10% | On The Beer Nut: October 2006
This is the oldest beer in the stash, by a good couple of years I'd say. It was released as The Porterhouse's tenth anniversary beer and I'm opening it now because I covered the twentieth anniversary one over on the other blog recently. I've also reviewed a vintage bottle of the permanent version that the brewery began producing in 2010, as well as this one at the four year mark. But enough history, on with the drinking.
There's not much of a head to see as it pours, though a thin layer of ivory foam does stay on top of the dense black body all the way down. It smells every ounce of its 10% ABV, the dark booziness accentuated by a black marker pen solvent buzz.
The flavour is amazingly complex. This was a bitter liquorice bomb when it first arrived. Now it has settled down into a smooth and luscious mix of oily coffee and Pedro Ximinez raisin fruit. For a 10%-er it's ridiculously easy drinking, the carbonation low and the texture remarkably light. The finish is pure silky dark chocolate, the only real nod towards bitterness in the whole thing.
A stunning beer, and a shining example of the benefit of letting strong dark beers age for a decade or so.
This is the oldest beer in the stash, by a good couple of years I'd say. It was released as The Porterhouse's tenth anniversary beer and I'm opening it now because I covered the twentieth anniversary one over on the other blog recently. I've also reviewed a vintage bottle of the permanent version that the brewery began producing in 2010, as well as this one at the four year mark. But enough history, on with the drinking.
There's not much of a head to see as it pours, though a thin layer of ivory foam does stay on top of the dense black body all the way down. It smells every ounce of its 10% ABV, the dark booziness accentuated by a black marker pen solvent buzz.
The flavour is amazingly complex. This was a bitter liquorice bomb when it first arrived. Now it has settled down into a smooth and luscious mix of oily coffee and Pedro Ximinez raisin fruit. For a 10%-er it's ridiculously easy drinking, the carbonation low and the texture remarkably light. The finish is pure silky dark chocolate, the only real nod towards bitterness in the whole thing.
A stunning beer, and a shining example of the benefit of letting strong dark beers age for a decade or so.
Sunday, 5 June 2016
Rosé de Gambrinus
Origin: Belgium | Date: 2009 | ABV: 5% | On The Beer Nut: March 2009
Framboise wouldn't be my favourite gueuze hack but Cantillon's version is one I always enjoy. This bottle is seven years and two days old so I expected a lot of funk and not so much by way of pink fruitiness.
There was nothing pink or fruity about the evil-looking black liquid trapped between the cap and the cork. I feared the worst but the wet mould hadn't completely saturated the cork and the end facing the beer was still rosy. More importantly, the beer hadn't spoiled.
It's a pale pinkish orange with lots of foam piled on top. The raspberry aroma is astoundingly fresh, all tart and juicy. That opens the flavour but it's fleeting, quickly squashed by fat and funky farmyard brett and then a long tail of dry sourness with just a sprinkling of white pepper sparks.
It's really quite beautiful and remarkably easy drinking. There's no acidic edge to the flavour and no heavy balsamic qualities. This bottle has gone to a better place but I'd say any other 2009s out there will be perfectly fine for a good few years yet, corks permitting.
Framboise wouldn't be my favourite gueuze hack but Cantillon's version is one I always enjoy. This bottle is seven years and two days old so I expected a lot of funk and not so much by way of pink fruitiness.
There was nothing pink or fruity about the evil-looking black liquid trapped between the cap and the cork. I feared the worst but the wet mould hadn't completely saturated the cork and the end facing the beer was still rosy. More importantly, the beer hadn't spoiled.
It's a pale pinkish orange with lots of foam piled on top. The raspberry aroma is astoundingly fresh, all tart and juicy. That opens the flavour but it's fleeting, quickly squashed by fat and funky farmyard brett and then a long tail of dry sourness with just a sprinkling of white pepper sparks.
It's really quite beautiful and remarkably easy drinking. There's no acidic edge to the flavour and no heavy balsamic qualities. This bottle has gone to a better place but I'd say any other 2009s out there will be perfectly fine for a good few years yet, corks permitting.
Sunday, 15 May 2016
I Hardcore You
Origin: UK | Date: 2010 | ABV: 9.5% | On The Beer Nut: September 2010
"A while" is how long I said I would leave my second bottle of I Hardcore You back in 2010. I really didn't intend it to be over five years.
The beer is a blend of BrewDog's Hardcore IPA with Mikkeller's I Beat yoU and is all about the hops. Or at least it was. At 9.5% ABV it's doubtless robust enough to survive the years of neglect, but would there still be any sign of the pine or elderflower notes I wrote about first time round?
Short answer: no. The beer seems darker than before, and murkier too. There's a sizeable amount of yeast built up in the bottom of the bottle. Maybe it decided that the residual sugar wasn't so unpalatable after all. It smells mostly of alcohol: white port or one of those lurid Italian aperitif liqueurs. The flavour is very sweet with an almost syrupy cough mixture vibe and just a whisper of orange pith bitterness for any semblance of balance. I tried hard to pick up some more subtle elements in the flavour but there aren't any really -- anything that hasn't rotted away gets buried under the weight of raw alcohol.
It's not awful, but is very definitely past its best -- following Alpha Dawg back in January, this is strike two for the hoppy beers. Thankfully I don't think there are any more in the stash.
"A while" is how long I said I would leave my second bottle of I Hardcore You back in 2010. I really didn't intend it to be over five years.
The beer is a blend of BrewDog's Hardcore IPA with Mikkeller's I Beat yoU and is all about the hops. Or at least it was. At 9.5% ABV it's doubtless robust enough to survive the years of neglect, but would there still be any sign of the pine or elderflower notes I wrote about first time round?
Short answer: no. The beer seems darker than before, and murkier too. There's a sizeable amount of yeast built up in the bottom of the bottle. Maybe it decided that the residual sugar wasn't so unpalatable after all. It smells mostly of alcohol: white port or one of those lurid Italian aperitif liqueurs. The flavour is very sweet with an almost syrupy cough mixture vibe and just a whisper of orange pith bitterness for any semblance of balance. I tried hard to pick up some more subtle elements in the flavour but there aren't any really -- anything that hasn't rotted away gets buried under the weight of raw alcohol.
It's not awful, but is very definitely past its best -- following Alpha Dawg back in January, this is strike two for the hoppy beers. Thankfully I don't think there are any more in the stash.
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