By Ryan Martinson

I’ve actually had this tasting in notepad form for a couple of weeks now and have finally had a chance amidst the jetsetting life of a RadioShack sales associate and being swept away into the suspended disbelief of nerddom, i.e., video games and movies, to write it down. I’ll preface this review with a bit of history as to how this particular beer came to be, and if I do say so myself, it’s rather intriguing and heartwarming.

Collaboration beers aren’t really anything new in the craft beer community; in fact breweries tend to enjoy “keeping it all in the family” when trying to come up with interesting concoctions. Dogfish Head and Sierra Nevada aren’t strangers to this practice and have mixed it up with countless other breweries to create some truly unique brews. That being said, their Life and Limb series, consisting of two beers so far, definitely succeeds in making a truly wonderful beer.

The story behind the creation of the first Life and Limb beer is rather warm and fuzzy. Both breweries are family-owned and operated and have an extended family of coworkers that share the same closeness despite their lack of blood relation. The two breweries wanted to celebrate their shared familial beer bonds with the world by creating a beer that would represent those very special connections and show their appreciation for the breweries and the beer enthusiasts that make up the craft beer family tree. The beer was so popular that it sold out in two weeks, so they decided to release it again with the same recipe but a different package to rejoice the fact that craft beer is still alive and kicking. From their website they describe what the two words Life and Limb mean when it comes to the ingredients of this delicious alcoholic potion.

Life: This beer is naturally carbonated to enhance complexity, refinement, and shelf-life; the family of yeast cells in every bottle working in vibrant unison.

Limb: The two syrups used in making this beer (maple and birch) contribute to its unique and earthy flavor and symbolize the collaboration between Sierra Nevada and Dogfish Head.

All the ways this beer was made illuminate the importance of family and friends and how those networks help to create some truly amazing things. Now with the history of this beer behind us, we move on to the tasting, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Pouring the color of maple syrup, this beer is absolutely gorgeous with a small yet retentive head, and as it hits the glass my nose is treated to hints of that maple and birch syrup marriage. Robust malts drift into the nostrils as roasted coffee rounds out an intriguing mixture of smells. The taste mirrors its scent-sense compatriot as taste buds will undoubtedly pick up that sweet syrup flavor and coffee aftertaste. This beer is incredibly complex though surprisingly easy to drink, and given its 10.2 ABV it’ll leave you feeling light on your feet.

It comes in a 750 ml bottle, so I was overjoyed in knowing I had another glass of it left to drink. In the second tasting the robustness is more pronounced and the flavors are more intense as candied sugars imbue already overloaded taste buds with more sweetness. This is definitely a beer to be enjoyed and patiently sipped because of its changing flavors and enjoyably complex taste. I definitely enjoyed this beer, and I recommend it to anyone looking for something different that exhibits a variety of delights for the senses. I don’t know if I have the power to give it a score, but if I did I’d give it 4 bottle caps out of 5! Drink happily, my friends!

But the city could use a nickname. Turns out it does mean “hidden” in Spanish, but even so, the city popped right up on my Google home detective kit. Plus they’re slapping the name on beer bottles now. This place could have been a haven for ninjas, but no, they just had to start bragging about how hidden they are.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. Stone’s 15th Anniversary Escondidian Imperial Black IPA.

Stats:
Brewery: Stone Brewing Company
Style: Imperial Black IPA
ABV: 10.8%
IBU: 100
Glassware: You’re looking at it.
Serving Temp: 50 degrees
Price Range: About 6 bucks for a bomber.
Food Pairing: I didn’t try anything with it. Probably a rich, chocolaty dessert.

Review:

In the store, the bottle catches my eye immediately. Stone’s gargoyle is printed on it, issuing a winged-demon salute with its mug held high. Not sure why that sold me, but it did.

The beer itself pours like liquid obsidian. Cappuccino-colored bubbles rise up in an effervescent oil fire. As the foam settles into a creamy cap, it leaves a sticky honeycomb on the glass. This beer is gorgeous — but in the same way as pictures of black holes. There’s something potent and dangerous about just the sight of it.

It smells like an imperial IPA crossed with an imperial stout: Piny hop oils are prominent but balanced by sharp licorice and, as the beer warms, coffee. The intense division between the styles is instantly obvious, but even the potency of the smell can’t touch the taste.

Stout flavors come through first: dark cherries, licorice, and a bit of port wine. Somewhere along the line, serious hoppy bitterness creeps in, blending sweet with bitter like a genetic hybrid of grapefruit and pine cone.  I also taste dark chocolate and smoky, roasted malt. The flavors are delicious, and more than enough to mask the high ABV, but as it warms they become so intense it almost gets hard to drink. Almost. I didn’t have trouble finishing it or anything.

Escondidian is a fantastic beer, one of the most flavorful I’ve ever drunk; however, it isn’t exactly the most drinkable brew on Earth, so it’s best saved for nights of revelry and celebration. Fortunately, beers of this caliber can be their own reason for celebration.

Can’t say I blame you. Some of my recent reviews have been a bit confusing. I mean, look at this one. Seems pretty normal until you get to the end, at which point Godzilla delivers the final “score” with a sassy one-liner.

Again, I understand if you’re confused. Even I have questions. First, what makes a 300-foot-tall radioactive gorilla-whale qualified to review beer? How does he write without continually smashing typewriters? Is his resume just a single sheet of paper stamped with “INCINERATES BUILDINGS” and “MAKES PEASANTS FLEE” in size 72 font? New readers must have felt completely bamboozled. And then they probably fled. At least Godzilla was honest about that part.

Confusion aside, the title of this article (mostly) came from the name of the beer I’m reviewing: Epic Brewing Company’s Brainless Belgian-Style Golden Ale. For some reason, it seemed like the perfect beer for reintroducing my five-bottle-cap scoring system, last seen here.

Stats:
Brewery: Epic Brewing Company
Style: Belgian-style strong pale ale
ABV: 8.3%
Glassware: Snifter or tulip if you got ‘em.
Serving Temp: 55 degrees
Price Range: I paid $5.99 for a 22-ounce bomber.
Food Pairing: It’d go well with fish or a light appetizer.

Review:

This ale is definitely golden, but it also has a peachy cast that makes it seem to glow. The white, foamy head rises almost as quickly as it dissolves, but it doesn’t go away entirely, sticking here and there to the sides of my glass. Looking at this beer is enjoyable all on its own; you may feel torn between drinking it and just staring respectfully.

Totally kidding. There’s no way I’m not drinking this.

I can smell something tropical like passion fruit buried beneath earthy hops and spicy Belgian yeast. It’s a clean, fresh, natural scent, even if it isn’t terribly potent. But the taste makes up for that, hitting my palate with the same sweet, spicy flavor implied by the smell, albeit adding a bitter edge. A tingling bite also emerges, as if the beer were brewed with cloves and peppercorns. The mouthfeel is a bit viscous and syrupy, but the spiciness and carbonation even out the texture. Somehow both easygoing and flavorful, Brainless is a fun beer to drink — although the aftertaste, which has a bit too much hoppy bitterness for the style, unbalances things a bit.

Epic’s ale is a solid interpretation of the style. It doesn’t quite compare to most Belgian originals or even the best American reinventions of Belgian styles, such as Three Philosophers or Allagash Curieux, but it’s still a tasty beer I’d sample again for a reasonable price.

… huh.

But I haven’t answered the only question that really matters: Do I like the beer itself?

Stats:
Brewery: Boston Beer Company (Sam Adams)/Weihenstephan
Style: Bière de Champagne?
ABV: 10.3%
IBU: I think I’ll delete this section after this review. The brewery rarely provides this info, probably because most people don’t care. Besides, you get a better idea of how bitter a beer is from the review itself.
Glassware: Flute, I guess.
Serving Temp: 45 degrees
Price Range: $20 per 750 millimeter bottle
Food Pairing: Perhaps butterscotch? Light whitefish might work.

REVIEW:

Before I talk about the taste, something must be said about the bottle. It’s gorgeous. I rarely discuss packaging in my reviews, but it’s worth mentioning here because Infinium has serious curb appeal. Looking at its antiqued lettering and shapely glass sends excitement skittering along my synapses. It makes me think of speakeasies, of blind tigers filled with dapper drinkers. Through the smoke and evaporated sweat, you can see the wall behind the bar, which is lined with shelves of filigreed mahogany. On them rest bottles of the best in the house. On them rest bottles like Infinium’s.

So basically, the bottle is frakin’ awesome, and it makes me want to drink this beer.

I remove the tin and wire and cap and cork and steal a sniff at the neck. All butterscotch so far. As the golden ale pours, foam shoots up and almost overflows. Bubbles roll endlessly beneath it. Another inhalation reveals flowers, tropical fruit, white wine, and clean, sharp alcohol — each nestled behind the butterscotch. Time for a taste.

More butterscotch. I expected it, but wow. Other flavors emerge: apples, citrus, grapes, and soft caramel; dry hop bitterness and an unabashedly boozy backbone. The first sip made me recoil a bit; its mouthfeel was too syrupy, its carbonation too light after watching the effervescent fireworks encased in glass — but I warm to the flavors as I drink.

Still, something blunt beneath those waves of butterscotch seems wrong. It’s too pronounced, too dull, too makes-me-wanna-spit-it.

Let’s call Infinium a grand experiment that failed, as so many do. But failure is often worth experiencing. In this case, I got to sample an early collaboration between two great brewing nations. Hopefully it’s a sign of more to come. Other than that, however, I enjoyed waiting to drink Infinium more than I actually enjoyed drinking it. Perhaps I was expecting something more crisp and tart because it was marketed like champagne despite tasting like a pale, buttery barleywine.

Who knows? Maybe they did create a new style after all. Too bad I don’t feel like drinking it again.

Anchor Brewing Company helped transform the American beer industry. That’s after Fritz Maytag bought it in 1965, anyway — before ‘65 it had a rather substandard reputation, which led to it nearly going out of business. When Maytag bought it, learned to brew, and began producing Anchor Steam in the early ‘70s, however, he triggered the eventual resurgence of craft beer in America.

Then, in 1975, he decided Christmas deserved its own beer, one dedicated to “joy and celebration of the newness of life.” For each of the ensuing 35 years, he’s made 35 unique beers. And 2010′s effort brings me near to tears — damn it, I’m rhyming again. Drinking this beer simply fills me with that much Christmas spirit. Also, alcohol.

Stats:
Brewery: Anchor Brewing Company
Style: Winter Warmer
ABV: 5.5%
IBU: I’m thinkin’ 40 or so, but Anchor is quite secretive about this recipe.
Glassware: Pint glass
Serving Temp: 50 degrees
Price Range: $7-9 per six-pack
Food Pairing: Gingerbread might be nice.

REVIEW:

This ale pours like liquid tree bark. A beige head froths up and then recedes reluctantly, leaving behind thick rings of lace. The foam smells of gingerbread, pine and spruce needles, peppermint, and winter spices such as nutmeg and cinnamon. Underneath those aromas, herbaceous, floral hops mesh perfectly with malty dark fruit. This beer was crafted by careful hands, precise hands that would’ve lent themselves to, say, clockmaking, had their owners not fallen hostage to such inebriating hobbies.

My thirst pulls on the rim of the glass. Everything in the first sip matches that balanced, complex nose precisely — the only difference is subtle, smoky chocolate that emerges as you drink. I can also taste something spicy and familiar that reminds me of Belgian yeast and counterweights the piny, herbal flavors. After a bit, the beer settles into a creamy, medium-carb smoothness. Drinkable yet satisfying. A delicious fireside sippin’ beer.

For me, Anchor’s Christmas Ale appearing on store shelves heralds the holiday season. And this year’s offering might be their best yet (out of the handful of iterations I’ve tried, anyway — this beer is sorta older than I am, after all). It’s at least better than 2009’s, which was good but not outstanding. The flavors of pine and gingerbread are perfectly balanced between spicy, herbal hops and bitter, roasted malt — and as it warms, dark fruit creeps to the forefront, pushing the chocolate into the aftertaste and lending a syrupy smoothness to the mouthfeel. I suggest you follow my example and buy as much of 2010′s batch as possible before it disappears forever.

And now, my new scoring system. After listening to reader feedback, I decided to break down my scores into different categories and then let Beerzilla deliver a final recommendation. I welcome feedback. Next week, I’ll probably review the beer event I’m going to this weekend.

Stats:
Brewery: Minhas Craft Brewery
Style: Adjunct Lager
ABV: 6.2%
IBU: Who cares?
Glassware: Pint glass. The can works too.
Serving Temp: 35 degrees
Price Range: $2.99 per six-pack
Food Pairing: Pizza. Wings. You know … “beer food.”

REVIEW:

Opening the can, I feel expectant yet unsure. Will this be an average American adjunct lager or something else entirely? Minhas does call itself a craft brewery, after all, and I have sampled some solid craft-brewed pilsners.

Simpler Times pours like any adjunct lager: clear, bubbly, golden. Its white foam head sticks around for a half a minute or so, which impresses me — until it deflates and settles as a film at the top. The nose is thin and sweet with grassy malts, a weak hop backbone, and slight corn undertones. Pretty unremarkable and similar to many pale lagers.

First sip hits me with unexpected sweetness. Hints of apples, nuts, and cereal grains. There’s a slight metallic aftertaste, but it isn’t bad; it contributes to the dry finish and mingles with the alcohol to create a warm tingle on the tongue. Overall the flavors are surprisingly intense for this type of beer.

Simpler Times is an adequate example of a style that isn’t one of my favorites. Nonetheless, good luck finding an American adjunct lager with more flavor for $2.99 a six-pack. And, if you’re buying it for the reason many people buy cheap lagers, you’ll get a bit more bang for your buck at 6.2% ABV.

Birthday Beer No. 3: Downtown Brown (Lost Coast)

From: Ben Rice, fellow beer geek

After tasting Lost Coast’s Great White witbier, I stopped buying their beers. This wasn’t a conscious decision; at the time, witbiers were my favorite style, and Great White simply didn’t sink its teeth in and drag me to a watery grave (in a good way), so my brain added “Lost Coast” to the list of labels it subconsciously ignores on sight. This is a bad habit for a beer geek. Every time I bypassed this beer, I was unwittingly dismissing a fantastic session brown.

The Picasso-man on the bottle hides a surprisingly dark ale, which leaps into the glass like melted chocolate (the dark kind) and builds a beige head that deflates almost before I can smell it. (Almost!) Unleashing aromas of nuts, raisins, and chocolate, this beer bears its unabashedly sweet and malty nose like a merit badge. Those nutty malts — mostly hazelnut and peanut — dominate the brew, but hints of caramel, roasted coffee, and some evasive dark fruits emerge over time.

Lost Coast has crafted a smooth, sweet beer that would provide a superb gateway into bigger brown ales, such as Rogue’s Hazelnut Brown Nectar. But forget those “big” beers; there’s nothing wrong with modest, simple brews, and I could drink this one every night. In fact, thanks to Ben, I did for almost a full week. He bought me an entire six-pack!

Birthday Beer No. 4: Bran Reserva (Birrificio Montegioco)

From: Alex and Dave, friends of a beer geek (but picked out by me, the beer geek)

With gift card securely pocketed (and triple-checked), I drove to Plaza Liquors, the best beer store in Tucson. Something about this store entrances me; I always spend at least an hour wandering around gazing at all the glossy bottles. Eventually, I unsheathed 17 bucks worth of gift card and bought Bran Reserva. No, that isn’t the name of the world’s most expensive high-fiber beer-muffin; it’s a tart ale from Italy. The Italian brewing industry has bloomed during recent years, moving onto the world beer stage as more than a producer of light pilsners. Bran Reserva is one of the remarkable beers with which they’re doing it.

Pouring oily, inky black and stirring up only hints of a head, Bran Reserva immediately reminds me of a high-ABV stout. What little foam there is dissipates quickly, settling around the edges. Scents of sour grapes and cherries float up from my glass, and now I start reminiscing about all the Belgian sours I’ve ever drunk. Smells just like one.

Unsurprisingly, it tastes like one too! Tamer than many sour ales but also better balanced, Bran Reserva is neither too sour nor too sweet — the tart cherries mix with the stout-like chocolate and smoke, and I detect red wine in there, too, nestled within the dark fruits and dry finish. As it warms, the flavors harmonize further, turning each mouthful into a tart, vinous symphony.

I really enjoyed this one (clearly — come on, I’m using symphony metaphors), and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who doesn’t mind spending extra for exotic beers. After drinking this one, I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on Italy.

Birthday Beer No. 5: Imperial Russian Stout (Stone)

From: Alex and Dave, hopefully still friends of a beer geek after hanging out with him while he drank this

This was the second beer I bought at Plaza. Actually, I bought many beers that day, but this will be the last review in this birthday series because these were the two I drank first, and let’s be honest, I’m not going to review 20 more beers for this article. As much as I love you guys, I have other stuff to do. Like sleeping.

After talking stouts with a knowledgeable Plaza employee, I had to go with Stone’s Russian Imperial. Apparently, this year’s batch has aged particularly well, and since Plaza had already done all the aging for me, the decision was an easy one.

I drank the Imperial Russian at a bar earlier this year, so I already knew it would pour midnight black with a dark mocha head. I was not, however, expecting the smell: Before, this ale knocked me on my ass with bitter, roasted aromas. Now, it’s all sweet chocolate and hot alcohol. After a sip or two, those extra months in the cooler really start to speak. The voice still talks about smokiness, but briefly this time, in  a whisper; the chocolate and malt are doing the screaming now. Drinking this beer reminds me of the conversations I’ve had with Great Divide’s Yeti. And, as stouts go, few beers have more to say than Yeti. But consider Stone’s Russian Imperial added to the few.

Thanks again to all of my super generous friends and readers!

As for the more immediate reason, I must refer back to a two-week-old article: My shameless request for birthday beer was mostly a joke — I didn’t think anyone would be kind enough to do it, but several of you did! I was nearly overwhelmed with gushy feelings of good will toward men and similar nonsense (but then I had to drive on a freeway during rush hour and things returned to normal). My good friend Ryan — from the guest review — brought beer to my birthday dinner; out-of-state ally Ben put in an order for a six-pack plus one at his local Bevmo (which I then picked up at mine); and my super-generous pals Alex and Dave gave me a gift card for my favorite beer store. Finally, my wonderful wife, Erin, bought me a kickass Stone goblet. As in, a goblet from Stone brewery. It’s made of glass.

Birthday Beer No. 1: Fuller’s Vintage Ale

From: Ryan Martinson, fellow beer geek

Ryan also gave me a bottle of La Trappe Dubbel, but after drinking Fuller’s Vintage Ale, I apparently couldn’t be bothered to write more tasting notes. I vaguely remember the dubbel being good, though.

If you remember my Fuller’s ESB review, you know that I love this brewery. They make classic British beers, and they do it well. Thus, I knew when I saw this beer that the brewery wouldn’t let me down; the fancy box makes it look like a miniaturized bottle of scotch (you know, the pricey stuff behind the glass).

Fuller’s Vintage Ale pours an iridescent shade of brown — when the light hits, it looks like caramel. The head seems a bit average in comparison, but its aromas make up for that: grapes, raisins, awesome, and honey. Its flavors mostly follow suit, but additions include licorice and hints of chocolate. It makes for a smooth, rich, velvety beer that I enjoyed thoroughly. In fact, the beer reminds me of Fuller’s ESB mixed with another favorite, Old Chub. I definitely recommend this one. Thanks, Ryan!

Birthday Beer No. 2: Saison du BUFF (Stone/Dogfish Head/Victory)

From: Ben Rice, fellow beer geek

Now this one sounds promising. A saison — which I recently added to my list of favorite styles — made by an all-star team of craft breweries: Stone, Dogfish Head, and Victory. How can it go wrong? Well, saisons are often delicate beers, and American breweries, despite all their lovable qualities, are sometimes known for their ham-handed interpretations of Belgian styles (with several noteworthy exceptions, of course), so I suppose a lot could go wrong. I’ll just go ahead and try it.

This beer looks crisp in my glass (my new goblet!); it’s golden orange with a thin, bubbly head — which firms up after a minute or two and refuses to budge. Weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen foam change from fizzy to creamy so fast. Anyway, despite those three names on the bottle, this smells like a saison by Stone. Floral, citric hops dominate the nose, which is unusual for this style (but not for Stone beers). To be fair, I also detect some fresh, herby scents that balance it out a bit.

On the first sip, it kicks you in the teeth with bitter, medicinal citrus, along with something sweet that blends with the bitter and makes it taste like tonic water. Stone’s hand is definitely felt heaviest on this one: I can taste traces of the style’s typical spicy fruitiness, and these flavors emerge more as the beer warms (I think they tried to boost it by adding rosemary, thyme, and other herbs, which I can definitely taste), but overall this seems like a saison injected with hop-infused steroids. It isn’t bad — hell, I finished my glass without hesitation or assistance — but personally, I thought the style was just fine the way it was. Perhaps my expectations would’ve been different if this had been marketed as a saison-IPA hybrid, because that’s kinda what it tastes like. Thanks nonetheless, Ben! I always love trying odd new beers, even if such experiments don’t always succeed on every level. Plus, it gave Erin a chance to snap that rad photo of the bottle.

Given the fact that I am a guest writer for this blog, I thought it fitting to at least give a brief biography of myself, more specifically the history behind my newfound passion for that sudsy, refreshing and intoxicating liquid that is beer. When I first started drinking it wasn’t for the taste, rather it was for the fact that it made my head feel funny and I liked it. But it was because of that limited scope that I didn’t have any idea of the ocean that awaited my taste buds. I first began to branch out from the college beer staple of Budweiser after I met an Olympic shot-putter when I was employed at Home Depot (yes this is a true story).  It was through him that I tried Rogue’s XS Imperial Porter and was delighted and in awe of its unique taste; after that I went to my first beer festival and from then on the rest is history.  Now my best friend and beer brother  Scott and I enjoy countless brews that give us that starry-eyed feeling as well as leave us wondering what some people were thinking (I’m looking at you, Chelada!) We’ve gained a considerable amount of experience and knowledge about this wonderful world of malts and hops, as many of you can tell from his amazing blog (I promise I’m not brown-nosing), and that world is our oyster … or drink … or beerster? Either way there’s a lot more drinking to be done.

With that history lesson behind us, it is time to delve into my first review of a beer, and I must say it’s a very delectable one — the beer I mean.  It’s Alaskan Brewing Company’s Baltic Porter, and it’s arguably one of the better porters I have had in a long time.

Baltic Porters have a reputation of being higher in ABV than other porters; this is due to the fact that it had to be shipped across the North Sea, so naturally a more robust version had to be created to withstand the long trip.  It was dubbed the “Baltic” Porter because it was brewed in Eastern Europe in countries such as Latvia and Lithuania, but it is said that it was also introduced by Britain in the 18th century, which leads to a bit of confusion as to what its origin actually are. It was a top-fermenting ale when it was first introduced, but by the 19th century, when breweries began to brew more beers with lager yeast, the porter was made through bottom-fermentation.  It wasn’t until the late 20th century that German breweries relaunched the Baltic Porter, which had faded from existence because of World War II, as a response to an import porter renaissance of sorts.  Either way it is thanks to our friends in Europe and all of their brothers and sisters that we are blessed with this very complex, unusually drinkable beer that enraptures the senses and is generally easy on the wallet.

On to the tasting!

I managed to procure a bottle of this amazing porter at the local Total Wine which by most accounts is a beertopia, if you’ll excuse the hyperbole.  It cost me about $7 which isn’t too bad for a bomber of porter, and then it was taken home and put into my refrigerator because unfortunately it wasn’t time to drink until a couple of days later.  But let me tell you it was definitely worth the wait! The first thing Scott and I noticed was the color as it poured into our glasses; it was like black coffee.  Although common with porters, this particular variety had dark, reddish mahogany edges, which when held in front of a light source is surprisingly beautiful.  It had a very peculiar head in that it wasn’t long-lasting, but it persisted as a dark brown film that floated on the beer.  Next was the smell, which was multifaceted.  Beginning with breaths of licorice and intense cherries, the smell flowed into my nostrils followed by brown sugar and  robust molasses. Although some of its aroma was similar to other porters I’ve tried, it was unusually sweet, which added to its uniqueness. The taste was exceedingly more complex than most in that its first touch to the tongue greeted us with cherries, candied sugars and licorice, which together provided a very drinkable beer and, given its ABV, that is definitely hard to find. What we noticed next was a very prevalent oakiness that gives it a smoky aftertaste, which then coupled with a smooth vanilla and the familiar malty punch of a porter. As it warmed it remained as sweet as it was on the first taste, but the cherries became more pronounced; it’s almost like drinking a maraschino porter, which is pretty amazing in itself! The sweetness was offset by an earthiness that was very subtle at first but became more noticeable as it had a chance to sit.

Altogether Alaskan Brewing Company’s Baltic Porter is an extremely enjoyable craft beer that will excite lovers of the style and grab newcomers as well.  It is a juxtaposition because it succeeds in being sweet and tough at the same time, almost like a body builder with a heart tattooed on his shoulder.  I’m sure there are better and more profound analogies, but to put it plainly, it’s just a damn good beer.

And thus ends my first foray into the agony and ecstasy of beer reviewing. I hope that there is more in store because the world of brews is constantly changing, and I intend to change with it!

Well, almost everything. A few weeks ago, I heard about a new pizzeria in my area called Mellow Mushroom Pizza Bakery. My informant said they had every Rogue beer on tap. Now, I’ve been to Rogue’s brewpub in Newport, and their beer menu is a huge wall-mounted whiteboard filled edge to edge with lists of beers, so I had my doubts about that claim. But curiosity dragged me to the Mellow Mushroom anyway.

The selection was indeed impressive: They have about ten Rogue beers on tap, plus twenty or so from other breweries. I started with Old Crustacean and Hazelnut Brown Nectar — two old favorites. Then I saw “Morimoto Imperial Pilsner” printed on the menu. I’ve always wanted to try this beer, but it’s $17 a bottle. At Mellow Mushroom it was cheaper, so I ordered a small glass.

It smelled nice. Sweet and floral like any pilsner, only amplified. Then I took a sip. An odd mix of perfumey sweetness and strained hop bitterness flooded my mouth, creating something so cloyingly sweet and obnoxiously bitter that it can really only be described as urinal cake flavor. I hate to say it (because I really do love Rogue), but after that night, I made a vow to avoid this lager as if it really were a urinal cake.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop throwing money at Rogue for their other beers. Keep reading to find out why.

Stats:
Brewery: Rogue Brewery
Style:  Porter
ABV: 8.2%
IBU: 78
Glassware: Pint Glass, Mug
Serving Temp: 45°F
Price Range: $10-13 per 750 ml bottle
Food Pairing: Chocolaty Desserts, Barbecued Beef

REVIEW:

First, let’s discuss the bottle. It’s painted. I love this. Paint keeps out light, and light skunks beer. Plus it just looks snazzy. It shows the time and effort these brewers put into their beer. And, for a bottle this size, the price ain’t bad. Remember, 750 milliliters is the standard size for wine bottles, and getting a world-class wine for 10 bucks is a great deal.

But you’ll forget all about the bottle as soon as it lets loose its pitch-black ale. Mocha foam bubbles up and stays there. This porter looks fantastic. The choco-coffee aromas aren’t terribly strong for a beer with “double mocha” in the title, but I do detect roasted malt; alcohol; and hints of bitter coffee. Despite the subtlety of the smell, I definitely want to drink whatever’s making it.

At first all I taste is sharp, bitter roasted barley, but then other sensations emerge. Coffee and chocolate dominate all else (of course), but I also uncover some rich, dark, earthy flavors, especially in the aftertaste. These linger on the tongue for quite some time. As it warms, alcohol battles with the bitter earth and brings out some truly bombastic flavors. It reminds me a bit of Great Divide’s Espresso Oak Aged Yeti, but with a personality all its own thanks to the smooth, sweet flavors of the Pacman yeast.

Like most Rogue beers, this ale is more than full-bodied; it just tastes full. You get the feeling you’re imbibing something with substance, something that’s drinkable yet nourishing. I enjoyed this beer so much that I actually grabbed another bottle a week or two later, and if I see it again, I’ll buy it again (if I have the cash). This is unlike me, because I’m almost always snootily searching for new beers to try, but Rogue’s Double Mocha Porter has earned a permanent spot in my regular rotation.