Old Chimay's New Tricks

I couldn't quite make out the date on the cork, but when popped, this Chimay Grand Reserve yielded an excellent surprise - February 2005, good for five years of bottle aging. That's the limit for many bottle-aged ales, although this Chimay can go longer.

But what it displays in its fifth year makes a statement for why it doesn't need further aging.

The blue-capped Chimay ages better than almost any beer, and what its busy yeast produces after years of labor is sometimes stunningly different from young bottle. If not for a few defining beer characteristics, this specimen could have been mistaken for a tawny port (albeit one aged in glass). The nose erupts with rich, dark tones of caramel and molasses. Once the sparkling effervescence subsides, it reveals more molasses, toffee, muted coffee and ever-so-slight vanilla accents.

The 02/05 finishes neat and slightly dry with a touch of cocoa and a tiny display of hop bitterness. As with previous aged bottles, the heavy, complex flavors and thick foamy head have thinned out, but not to the beer's detriment. It doesn't sacrificing any flavor or complexity, though - all the rough edges smooth out nicely.

Part of me wants to buy a case, forget about it in the pantry and open one bottle a year for the next 12. For all my gushing, aging beer comes with a major caveat - this is only for the chronically patient.

I think Belgium has its answer to Utopias - well, one of them, St. Bernardus Abt 12 is equally luxurious after a half-decade locked away. Sam Adams 15-year-aged concoction is a grand ale, but for a tenth of the price and few years in the dark, it's hard to beat an old Chimay Grand Reserve, dean of the strong Trappist ales from Belgium.