St. Bernardus Brewery, Watou, Belgium
11.2 fl. oz. capped bottle
10 percent ABV
Sampled: Jan. 7, 2007 in a St. Bernardus chalice
(Because the mileage from notebook to blog varies)
In a word, wonderful. Abt 12 (or Abbot 12) is quite possibly the finest quadruple-fermented ale brewed outside monastery walls. I prefer it in a corker, champagne-sized bottle (750 mL, I believe), but its finer qualities are equally apparent in a smaller vessel.
In the chalice it sits dark brown, nearly opaque with a creamy head and a sharp roasted scent. The tastes will vary as the beer warms in the glass (like most abbey ales, it's meant to be served cool, not the icy cold of American gold lagers). Most common are the coffee, chocolate, even a slight bit of toffee, along with the standard ripe, dark fruits of ales conditioned to this degree.
This is probably the "youngest" bottle of St. Bernardus I've tasted - I could have let it sit in the pantry until July 27, 2011. While further complexities have not yet had the chance to develop, what it presents in its youth is still markedly better than 99 percent of the beers on the market.
As mentioned in an earlier St. Bernardus review, the water in its beers comes from wells more than 450 feet deep, and that anyone who feels a water source changes nothing in beer should give this a taste.
This is a maelstrom of a beer that offers no attempt to shield its strength or intricacies. You have been warned.
Rating: 9.5/10 (It goes 10 for 10 if poured from a tap or a corked bottle)
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Lighter, but not lesser: St. Bernardus Pater 6
St. Bernardus Brewery, Watou, Belgium
11.2 fl. oz capped bottle
From: St. Bernardus Gift Pack
($14.99 for bottles from four styles and a goblet)
Alcohol content: 6.7 percent ABV
Sampled: Jan. 23, 2007 in a St. Bernardus goblet
Despite the lightest alcohol content among the St. Bernardus abbey ales, Pater 6 pours with a reddish-brown hue that rivals most double-fermented Belgian ales. Above the thin creamy head resides a relatively neutral, unassuming nose that offers scant preview of the tastes to come.
Though it's no challenger to Abt 12's throne, Pater 6 rushes out with a tangle of flavors - red fruits, bubbliness and effervescence that the stronger abbey ales sacrifice, a slight chocolate interruption and some roasted malt character. Some dried fruit flavors, likely figs, raisins and dates, sneak into the complex mix for a second.
None of these flavors really dominate or rise to the level of the stronger beers, which knocks Pater 6 down a few flights.
Of note with the St. Bernardus brews is the water, which its brews draw from a well at a minimum depth of 150 meters. According to the St. Bernardus website, the water it's using now dates to what fell in rainstorms during Joan of Arc's days.
Even when pouring a double abbey ale - there's definite bottle conditioning going here, given the sludgy sediment left in the bottle - that makes for a special brew.
Pater 6 leaves behind most other double abbey ales and performs admirably as a "light" alternative if Abt 12 is not available ... or you simple want a Belgian abbey ale you can drink all night.
Rating: 7/10
11.2 fl. oz capped bottle
From: St. Bernardus Gift Pack
($14.99 for bottles from four styles and a goblet)
Alcohol content: 6.7 percent ABV
Sampled: Jan. 23, 2007 in a St. Bernardus goblet
Despite the lightest alcohol content among the St. Bernardus abbey ales, Pater 6 pours with a reddish-brown hue that rivals most double-fermented Belgian ales. Above the thin creamy head resides a relatively neutral, unassuming nose that offers scant preview of the tastes to come.
Though it's no challenger to Abt 12's throne, Pater 6 rushes out with a tangle of flavors - red fruits, bubbliness and effervescence that the stronger abbey ales sacrifice, a slight chocolate interruption and some roasted malt character. Some dried fruit flavors, likely figs, raisins and dates, sneak into the complex mix for a second.
None of these flavors really dominate or rise to the level of the stronger beers, which knocks Pater 6 down a few flights.
Of note with the St. Bernardus brews is the water, which its brews draw from a well at a minimum depth of 150 meters. According to the St. Bernardus website, the water it's using now dates to what fell in rainstorms during Joan of Arc's days.
Even when pouring a double abbey ale - there's definite bottle conditioning going here, given the sludgy sediment left in the bottle - that makes for a special brew.
Pater 6 leaves behind most other double abbey ales and performs admirably as a "light" alternative if Abt 12 is not available ... or you simple want a Belgian abbey ale you can drink all night.
Rating: 7/10
Monday, January 22, 2007
Forget the text, this is wit(bier) without peer
Blanche de Namur
Brasserie du Bocq, Purnode, Belgium
750 mL bottle with champagne cork
No. 143351
Sampled: Jan. 21, 2007 in a Unibroue tulip glass
As white/blanch/wit/wheat beers from Belgium go, this handle ranks as the palest I've seen. However, from that diluted lemonade body emerges a sharp, intricate nose of orange and lemon.
Before I tread further, I must remark on Blanche de Namur's label text, which sounds as if someone new to English wrote it, beginning with "I am a bottle-fermented white beer." After I tasted it, though, the laughter stopped. The instructions on how to pour it for maximum flavor aren't for joking, either, when it gives this ale a broad yet mellow complexity.
More sparkling and bubbly than a typical Belgian white - a cork and a little shelf time heaps new dimensions on a bottle-conditioned wheat ale - the Blanche de Namur also possesses a mellow streak unlike other whites I've sampled.
Upon sampling, it comes up with a more diverse fruity bouquet, with traces of pineapple and even peach working into the flavor. I've never run into those tastes in beer beside lambics, but they work here.
White ale standards coriander and licorice (it's slight, but it rises in the finish) also figure into the mix. mind you, these flavors mingle, but they're hardly intense - that works well for me.
Too many attempt to get in the drinker's senses by overloading the ingredients. Sometimes, it's better to drop back and let it go. This white is cloudy like the others, but the orange and coriander dovetail nicely into each other.
As I finished my first bottle, I found myself wishing for a few more - this is a first-class white ale.
Two hours in the fridge before sampling drops its temperature close to the recommended 40 degrees. Shaking the bottle enough to stir the contents at the bottom is essential to these tastes; otherwise, you might as well go with whatever white you stumble upon.
Rating 9.5/10
Brasserie du Bocq, Purnode, Belgium
750 mL bottle with champagne cork
No. 143351
Sampled: Jan. 21, 2007 in a Unibroue tulip glass
As white/blanch/wit/wheat beers from Belgium go, this handle ranks as the palest I've seen. However, from that diluted lemonade body emerges a sharp, intricate nose of orange and lemon.
Before I tread further, I must remark on Blanche de Namur's label text, which sounds as if someone new to English wrote it, beginning with "I am a bottle-fermented white beer." After I tasted it, though, the laughter stopped. The instructions on how to pour it for maximum flavor aren't for joking, either, when it gives this ale a broad yet mellow complexity.
More sparkling and bubbly than a typical Belgian white - a cork and a little shelf time heaps new dimensions on a bottle-conditioned wheat ale - the Blanche de Namur also possesses a mellow streak unlike other whites I've sampled.
Upon sampling, it comes up with a more diverse fruity bouquet, with traces of pineapple and even peach working into the flavor. I've never run into those tastes in beer beside lambics, but they work here.
White ale standards coriander and licorice (it's slight, but it rises in the finish) also figure into the mix. mind you, these flavors mingle, but they're hardly intense - that works well for me.
Too many attempt to get in the drinker's senses by overloading the ingredients. Sometimes, it's better to drop back and let it go. This white is cloudy like the others, but the orange and coriander dovetail nicely into each other.
As I finished my first bottle, I found myself wishing for a few more - this is a first-class white ale.
Two hours in the fridge before sampling drops its temperature close to the recommended 40 degrees. Shaking the bottle enough to stir the contents at the bottom is essential to these tastes; otherwise, you might as well go with whatever white you stumble upon.
Rating 9.5/10
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Trader Joe's Hofbrau Bock
Trader Joe's Brewing Company, San Jose, CA
Bottled: July 11, 2006
Sampled: Jan. 20,2007
Cost: $4.99/ Six Pack exclusively at Trader Joe's
While winter has yet to prove its worth, Trader Joe's foray into the heaviest of German beer styles does. Trader Joe's sports a fine beer selection, but it keeping with its direct from the manufacturer motif, it sells a line of beers under its own name. The Hofbrau (translating to "Beer of royalty") is several shades lighter than TJ's Winterfest (a doublebock), yet a comfortable winter libation all the same.
The biggest surprise is the color and nose - being more accustomed to double bocks and their heavy molasses, licorice and chocolate flavors, I wasn't ready for reddish orange body and the subtle malty nose with ever-so-slight burnt orange hints.
Since it does weigh in at 7 percent alcohol by volume, I have to once again remember that strong beer and heavy beer do not necessarily describe the same beverage.
To taste, the orangeness works well with a slight pepperiness prior to the finish, skillfully defying my expectations. Where it hits a snag is in the finish; it closes off sourly, as if the Hallertau hops and the different malts fail to mesh completely.
Fortunately, over time the sour finish fades rather than builds (as most bad beer flourishes do).
A little sediment rings the bottle's bottom, but the Hofbrau comes off most clean and clear. Though it's a little high on the alcohol content side, TJ's Hofbrau Bock could serve well as a winter session beer - if you can get past that initial sour finish.
Rating: 6.5/10
Bottled: July 11, 2006
Sampled: Jan. 20,2007
Cost: $4.99/ Six Pack exclusively at Trader Joe's
While winter has yet to prove its worth, Trader Joe's foray into the heaviest of German beer styles does. Trader Joe's sports a fine beer selection, but it keeping with its direct from the manufacturer motif, it sells a line of beers under its own name. The Hofbrau (translating to "Beer of royalty") is several shades lighter than TJ's Winterfest (a doublebock), yet a comfortable winter libation all the same.
The biggest surprise is the color and nose - being more accustomed to double bocks and their heavy molasses, licorice and chocolate flavors, I wasn't ready for reddish orange body and the subtle malty nose with ever-so-slight burnt orange hints.
Since it does weigh in at 7 percent alcohol by volume, I have to once again remember that strong beer and heavy beer do not necessarily describe the same beverage.
To taste, the orangeness works well with a slight pepperiness prior to the finish, skillfully defying my expectations. Where it hits a snag is in the finish; it closes off sourly, as if the Hallertau hops and the different malts fail to mesh completely.
Fortunately, over time the sour finish fades rather than builds (as most bad beer flourishes do).
A little sediment rings the bottle's bottom, but the Hofbrau comes off most clean and clear. Though it's a little high on the alcohol content side, TJ's Hofbrau Bock could serve well as a winter session beer - if you can get past that initial sour finish.
Rating: 6.5/10
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Utterly undrinkable: Ed's Cave Creek Chili Beer
To give you the nuts and bolts on this beer would just demean us all. Really, some American domestic beers like any Milwaukee's Best product are pretty bad, but this is craft beer, and I give it credit by calling it awful.
Two sips and I was done; the bartender agreed. Understand, unless I'm cooked and done drinking, it's rare for me to leave a beer unfinished. I can come close with a 12-oz. stomach pain inducer like Sierra Nevada Bigfoot. But for the beer in a clear bottle (the biggest brewing no-no imaginable -- light destroys beer, which is why 99 percent of brewers use green or brown glass, ye sages of Arizona), my mouth was already on fire. The giant pepper floating in the bottle kills any beer taste whatsoever.
According to their Web site, Cave Creek's creator started shoving chili peppers in his beer after he caught too many yuppies shoving limes in it. My best guess is without the pepper, it might taste close to a Mexican lager like Corona or Pacifico - palatable, if not quite spectacular, beers. But I can only guess, since I can't actually taste the beer.
The only point for which they deserve credit is truth in advertising: it's a beer with a giant pepper in it.
But this is worst, the absolute worst. I'd rather have drink skunked Milwaukee's Best Ice for the rest of my life than to imbibe this affront to brewing again.
I no longer fear Hell, because I already know the only beer they'll have on tap for all eternity.
Two sips and I was done; the bartender agreed. Understand, unless I'm cooked and done drinking, it's rare for me to leave a beer unfinished. I can come close with a 12-oz. stomach pain inducer like Sierra Nevada Bigfoot. But for the beer in a clear bottle (the biggest brewing no-no imaginable -- light destroys beer, which is why 99 percent of brewers use green or brown glass, ye sages of Arizona), my mouth was already on fire. The giant pepper floating in the bottle kills any beer taste whatsoever.
According to their Web site, Cave Creek's creator started shoving chili peppers in his beer after he caught too many yuppies shoving limes in it. My best guess is without the pepper, it might taste close to a Mexican lager like Corona or Pacifico - palatable, if not quite spectacular, beers. But I can only guess, since I can't actually taste the beer.
The only point for which they deserve credit is truth in advertising: it's a beer with a giant pepper in it.
But this is worst, the absolute worst. I'd rather have drink skunked Milwaukee's Best Ice for the rest of my life than to imbibe this affront to brewing again.
I no longer fear Hell, because I already know the only beer they'll have on tap for all eternity.
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