Holy Beer Contenders

“Not your dad’s 30 weight!” – from the label.

I have a soft spot in my heart for old beat-up pickup trucks, especially those so old that they’re made from cold-rolled steel and have a clutch.  I used to have this old 1960 green Chevy that you could have run into a wall and only scratch the fender.  It was a great truck to learn to drive in.  Indestructible.  That is, unless you’re an idiot kid like I was who didn’t know you’re supposed to put oil in the engine.

I remember driving home from work on I-5 in Stockton California, and suddenly the truck sped up, like the engine got this strange sudden power boost, and it got really quiet for about 15 seconds.

Then things took a turn for the worst.

The truck started shuddering, lightly at first but getting stronger, until it felt like the whole thing would disintegrate.  Red lights flashed across the dash.  The engine, once a vital and reliable bundle of horsepower, turned into a molten slab of solid metal.  I ended up stranded on the meridian and don’t remember how I got home.

Kids:  Check the oil in your car engine regularly.  Don’t trust the lights on the dash.  Lights burn out.

Okay, let’s see if I can somehow tie this in with the beer review.  I was going to quote the wacky and rambling oil-inspired text on the label but, no, I’ve rambled enough.  But I do have to say Port Brewing is not off-base when they compare this to the old black oil you’d find in the bottom of a old rusty pickup truck. 

Not in taste, mind you!  Just in looks and consistency.

Popping the top of this big bottle, it smells sweet and … geeze, what is that?  It smells good but I’m having a hard time pinning it down.  In fact I’ve been sniffing so much that I’m light headed.  It smells a bit like a delicious BBQ sauce!  WTF?

First sip:  It’s not as thick initially as the label would have you believe.  However, the initial aftertaste has an oily quality about it – though I’m not sure if that’s psychological in nature or not.  Taste?  Well – good, but let me swig again to pin it down.

I taste:  Oak.  Chocolate.  Molasses.  Bitter oiliness (that sounds unpleasant but in this case it’s not – it’s good).  There’s a bit of burnt barley toast bloom right at the end, and lots going on in between.

This brew is definitely complex and instantly one of my new favorites.  I hereby proclaim it groovy and bestow upon it a solidly respectable 7.6 on the Holy Grail Scale.

Oh, whatever happened to the pickup?  My dad simply dropped a new engine in it, and it was back to life.

Old pickup trucks rock.

It’s been one of those Fridays.

Usually a Friday is better than a Monday, right?  Well, I’m not saying this Friday was worse than a Monday, but it wasn’t significantly better.  Let’s just say I was really ready for a good, strong barley wine when I got home, and when I finally did get home, I didn’t hesitate.  I dove for the fridge.

This baby smells like molasses, brown sugar, bread and honey.

Taste?  Very complex and yummy.

It starts out as a kind of dark sweet bread, then there’s a wave of liquor-oak, then a wave of dark chocolate which morphs into milk chocolate, which then morphs into a buttery burnt caramel.  After that fades, it leaves you with a nice hoppy bitterness – inviting you to run through it all over again.

It’s kind of like going on a short, fun ride at an amusement park on a day when there’s hardly anyone else there, and there’s no line to speak of, so the moment  you get off the ride you can run around and get back on it again.

This was recommended to me by one of the beer wizards at Binny’s in Glen Ellyn and I’m glad it was – I like it.  I like it a lot.  It’s definitely making the list as a Holy Beer contender and I’m bestowing upon it a very respectable 8.3 on the Holy Grail Scale.

Needless to say it’s a very groovy brew, and I wish it didn’t cost so much or I would have bought a whole lot more of them.

And it’s brought a decent end to a rather hectic and tiring week.

It smells of molasses, yeast, and honey.

It tastes of WOW-holy-jeeze-this-is-freaking-GOOD.  Blurted out all at once.  My brain has problems separating and processing the flavor.  It’s complex and it comes at you in a rush. 

Other beers will have a wave of this, a rising of that, a hint of so-and-so.  Not this one.  It’s like Flying Dog loaded all the flavors into a shotgun shell and blasted it into your mouth.

Let me take another sip and try it again…

First impression is sweet.  Then molasses, then hops brown sugar medium malt…

I lost it.  Another try…

There’s a nuttiness in there somewhere.  Not walnut or pecan, more like a hazelnut.  Just a hint, a ghost.  Here and gone in an instant.

Another try yields nothing.  It tastes like what it is:  Flying Dog’s take on a Barley Wine style ale.  And it’s absolutely awesome.

This isn’t my first try of it.  I must admit, I’ve been drinking it for about two months now.  It always disappears before I have a chance to review it.  This is my last bottle.

That’s why I’m reviewing it, now, before it’s gone and … I have no idea if I can get more.  These specialty beers come and go.  You have to make the best of them while they’re around.

To summarize, I have to proclaim this as a Holy Beer Contender  and rank it rather high, 9.7 even, on the Holy Grail Scale.  It’s just behind the other premium Flying Dog brew I’ve fallen in love with:  their Gonzo Imperial Porter.

“D.O.R.I.S.” stands for “Double Oatmeal Russian Imperial Stout.”  According to the bottle, its stated purpose is to “overwhelm, satisfy, and destroy your taste buds.”

That’s a pretty bold statement coming from a “hoppin’ frog.”  Let’s put it to the test.

I pop the top of this bad boy.  It’s a tall bottle, 1 Pint & 6 oz., and I decide to pour it into a mug instead of imbibing it directly from the bottle.  But first I take a sniff to see what we’re dealing with here.

It smells like hops and dark roasted malt, and it pours like well-used motor oil.  I’m not kidding.  This brew is thick, viscous, and absolutely black, with a dark brown head.  (I don’t remember ever seeing a head this dark.)  I have no choice but to wonder: What the hell am I getting myself into? 

It’s either going to be outrageously good, or abysmal.

First sip.  Initial taste is sweet black coffee.  Smooth, heavy, and rich.  Sting of hops, quickly pummeled by the taste of oatmeal with brown sugar.  That reigns for a good long while until it fades under a layer of burnt toast, and then finally the resurgence of a strong wash of hoppy bitterness.

Not only is this a groovy brew, it’s a very groovy brew, and I grant it a outrageously high 9 (nine!) on the Holy Grail scale.

I also have to rate it as a OMFG beer.  “Oatmeal freaking good,” of course.  Heh.

Consider me destroyed.  After downing this entire bottle of 10.6% (roughly 21 Proof) ale, I can no longer feel my face.

I’m renting this wonderful little place on a corner lot … on an island.  Think about that for a second.  A corner lot on an island.  It’s where the beach turns a corner.

On the very corner of this island is another little island, just big enough for a medium sized tree and a hammock.  I am on that hammock.

There are no big waves on this side.  If there were, it might take me out.  But it’s nice and calm, and instead of booming and hissing, the water here is calm and makes little wet lapping sounds.  In the distant there’s the occasional cry of a seagull, about once every 92 seconds, like clockwork.

Popping off the cap with the opener on my key chain, I relax here, taking in this calm Zen moment in the whirlwind of my life, and take a deep sniff of the Green Flash Barleywine.

Nothing.  I can hardly smell anything.  I don’t know if that’s because of this brew, or if it has something to do with the functioning of my nose at this moment.  (Or should I say, non-functioning?)

I take a deep breath, clear my mind, and raise the heavy bottle to my lips.  The first sip is wonderfully malty – it tastes of toasty malt, very much like a biscuit, all swallowed up in a wave of tingly bubbles.  Next is a passage of a vodka, alcohol taste, something to let me know this brew means serious business.  Then again, this is barleywine – if it didn’t have a serious alcohol punch, there’d be something wrong with it.

After that, it finishes with a nice rising tide of hoppy bitterness.  Very good.  Indeed, it’s delicious.  And it’s perfect for enjoying on a hammock on the sea shore.

I’d give this a decent 6 on the Holy Grail scale and proclaim it an official groovy brew.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.

I can swear there’s a freaking werewolf howling outside. It’s a long drawn out, deep, full blown howl, like out of a monster movie. It’s so unnerving that I actually poked my head outside to see if I can tell how far away it was.

The moment I open the back door, the one that faces the woods, the howling stops. There is, of course, a full moon above. It’s bright enough to see the wooden porch and a ways into the forest, but beyond that the forest has become a tangle of dim light and a million dark shadows. Above, in the big old oak that towers over my place, an owl hoots. Not a friendly hoot, either — it sounds like it’s telling me off.

I duck back inside, shut and locked the door (like locking it makes me safer from a werewolf) and … you guessed it … the howling starts again.

Okay. Fine. Howl away, damn werewolf. I’m getting a beer.

I root around the fridge and pull out this Utenos Porter. Fitting, somehow. Sounds like the perfect name for a beer to drink while there’s a werewolf outside.

Remember, beware the moors.

I pop the top and give this bad boy a sniff. It smells strongly of sweet dark malt and molasses.

I raise the bottle to my lips, tip it back for that first sip. It’s both milder, and thinner, than I’d expected. The taste of the alcohol is strong. There’s a good balance between sweet and dark bread. And, somewhere, there seems to be some hops thrown into the mix.

Very good. Not outstanding, but good. A solid, yummy brew.

Outside the howling has stopped again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not — I’m half expecting to hear it right outside my window.

Beware the moors!

I’ll give this a 4.4 on the Holy Grail scale and proclaim it to be a groovy brew. As I sit here and finish it, I’ll be thinking about the fact that I have no gun in the house, let alone any silver bullets.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.