Jester King Brewery – Encendia

NOW THIS is an uncommon treat. Already known for their thoughtful sourcing of ingredients and patience (“We have no secrets, but if we were to, one would be time,” says co-founder Jeffrey Stuffings), Jester King’s Encendia is a beer with a particularly laborious history. It’s a fully 11% American wild ale brewed in collaboration with Kristina Bozic of West Lakeview Liquors, who helped Jester King to source the mezcal barrels in which the beer aged for 11 months. That already would have made for a lengthy gestation, but the brewery was forced to wait another full year before releasing in Chicago due to their use of an uncommon Mexican spice, epazote. Evidently the TTB was skeptical of the ingredient, which purportedly has a distinctly tangy and herbal taste, and in large doses can be poisonous and/or hallucinogenic. Hence the holdup. Fortunately, Jester King’s brews are well-suited to cellaring, so by the time the TTB got over their huff (or performed their due diligence, depending on your perspective) the beer’s two-year maturation had become a point of interest instead of a liability. Thus the limited supply of bottles released yesterday at West Lakeview Liquors sold out within hours, pulled straight from the box, bypassing the shelves, and landing in eager hands two at a time. And with good reason, for Encendia is a remarkable specimen.

Using a bit of roasted barley, the beer pours a hazy mid-amber, no doubt also taking some color from its time in mezcal barrels. A wide-laced whitish head forms briefly but settles into a thin film fairly quickly. The aroma is not overpowering but still deeply layered, invoking an unmistakably south-of-the-border sweet/spicy interplay of desert fruit, pepper, slightly musty pepper, characteristic Jester King funk, a whiff of musty yeast (really quite clean despite the age, though), and a touch of specialty malt. Jeffrey admits that the finished beer may not even show that much epazote character (as if we laypeople could tell), but certainly the other adjuncts of agave nectar and ancho chile come through readily in the initial flavor, enlivening the lips and the back of the tongue with a prickle that stops short of heat. Speaking of, neither is there much alcohol warmth or boozy slickness, despite the beer’s 11% ABV; presumably its two years to develop have smoothed those edges, leaving it a little creamy from the lactobacillus but still quite dry and tongue-gripping. Sourness is present but not overpowering, and that inevitable wild edge kicks in especially towards the finish in a layered aftertaste, eventually spreading from the center of the embouchure out towards the side and back of the cheeks, filtering in between the pinpoints of spice to leave the palate coated but not saturated. It would have been preferable to try the beer fresh for the sake of comparison, but there’s no sense of lost character in this aged specimen. Nor really even regret that it took so long to come to us. Since after all, time is the secret–isn’t it?

Served: 750 ml bottle (West Lakeview Liquors)

Rating: 92

 

Drie Fonteinen – Oude Geuze

ASIDE FROM the exclusivity inherent to its limited production, the bellwether Oude Geuze produced by Armand Debelder of 3 Fonteinen is the rare beer that develops into excellence not just as it warms, but also as it is exposed to oxygen. All beers’ flavors change once introduced to the elements, of course, but few open up and benefit as dramatically as does 3 Fonteinen’s. Fans of more robust, dry, and slatey champagnes will delight in the beer’s razor-edge refinement, uplifting brilliance of aroma and texture, almost bracing acidity, and exquisite, small-bubbled effervescence.

It pours with a copious pillow of white head, a slightly hazy color between deep gold and amber, and a light body readily apparent from its agile flow into the glass. Lemon, peach pit, green apple skin, nickel, wildflower honey, and a little Brett yeast tang bloom in the aroma and across the tongue, settling delicately into a lengthy and luxurious finish as it interacts with air. This is also the rare beer to gain confidence and character as one samples more of it, whereas in most cases each subsequent sip is a vain chase after the thrill of the first impression. 3 Fonteinen rather gains in strength, becoming clearer, crisper, more laser-like in its focus and revitalization of the palate. The interplay of robust but refined sensations (lemon tartness against lactic creaminess) also caters marvelously to food, from simple balsamic-tossed salad to paprika-laced goulash.

In 2009, a severe mishap in production obliged Armand to depend almost exclusively upon other producers (e.g. Girardin) for several years, but all throughout his blends deservedly retained their distinction and reputation. As of last year 3 Fonteinen is back to making its own beer to scale. Yet one more reason among many to raise a Geuze in recognition.

Served: 750 ml bottled Jan 17, 2013

Rating: 94

Upland Brewery – Persimmon Lambic

UPLAND’S FRUITED lambics must be among the Midwest’s most unanimously respected beer series. With ingredients familiar (strawberry, cherry) and foreign (kiwi, paw paw), these carefully-crafted and patiently-aged sour ales have a deservedly devoted following. Powerfully fruity yet still traditionally dry and undeniably tart, they make the most of boldly experimental American adjuncts while still incorporating the complex texture and flavors of Belgium’s brewing wilderness.

Despite its unusual choice of fruit addition, this Persimmon lambic falls more towards the conservative end of the series’ spectrum. Its aroma is bright, zesty, and moderately sour, showing substantially lemon and slight sour cream notes of lactic acid without revealing very much fruit. Oak character from the barrel-aging aging is subdued, mostly contributing smoothing vanilla in the background. Persimmon does contribute a broadly fruity tang (somewhere between melon, apricot, peach, and citrus), but does not leap out with a single, defining flavor—unlike, for instance, the Blackberry or Kiwi versions.

Instead the Persimmon lambic is akin to the still-experimental Paw Paw variety: cagily fruity but still letting the wild yeasts lead the way, drying out the body almost completely and delivering pronounced acidity and strong effervescence that lands lightly upon the tongue and dissipates evenly throughout the mouth, leaving it slightly scoured and refreshed. Altogether it’s less singular a concoction than some of Upland’s other lambics, but one’s hard-pressed to call it much worse. Contrary to expectations, this unconventional adjunct actually resulted in a flavor profile more appealing to fans of traditional lambic, so neatly is it framed alongside the robust tang of Brett and other wild beasts.

Served: 750 ml bottle

Rating: 90

Breckenridge Brewery – Barrel-Aged Small Batch 471 IPA

CLEARLY A ROBUST and powerful pale ale, this double IPA fills its snifter with lambent grace, throwing a large frothy white head of tiny bubbles and positively radiating amber transparency. This is the virgin French (from Limousin) oak-aged version, and thus has no bourbon, port, sherry, or rum notes to color the beer or its still-verdant hop character. Instead the barreling helps support and neatly couch the beer’s already generous malt body—dense and sticky without overemphasizing any single aspect, and altogether a thick but neutral template. The aroma contains some peach or nectarine, likely based in Cascade with tweaks from Simcoe and the barrel-aging. The further combination of caramel sweetness, pine, and some Chinook intensity results in an earthy, slightly prickly sensation that invokes ginger more readily than most common hop characteristics. Perhaps the Fuggle’s latent touch? This latter element layers neatly into the finish and imparts a faint holiday characteristic, but again no single element comes to dominate the experience.

Some vanilla comes through late along with a touch of woody grains near the finish, but for the most part this is still a fresh, citric, slightly spicy, and hoppy beer. Only 70 IBUs, though, it’s among the less bitter imperial-strength IPAs on the market, relying on Chinook’s assertiveness in the finish and Cascade and Simcoe’s floral/piny/citric triple-threat to enliven its bouquet and keep the midpalate from being too thick. Alcohol is nearly 10%, but doesn’t show in either the aroma (no matter the temperature) nor the flavor; its presence fills out the body, though, and leaves the mouthfeel decidedly robust. Effervescence is virtually transparent yet still highly efficient, ensuring an even dispensation of flavors and keeping the malt density in check without ever becoming a conspicuous part of the flavor profile. Overall it is one of the more balanced American double IPAs on the market, equally at home on fireside evenings with a bourbon nightcap as at the bar served alongside a deep dish pizza with mushrooms and oregano. A rare instance of the style that reasonably appeals to malt and hop fans alike.

Served: On tap (World of Beer, Naperville)

Rating: 88

O’So Brewing – Winds of Change

CHANGE, IS IT? Of what sort, O’So? Take your pick: 1. Deciding to focus more on their barrel program 2. Starting to brew sour ales 3. Hiring a new head brewer. Each alone would have been a stiff breeze—all three at once seems more like a tempest. Whatever its magnitude, the first gust of these changes arrives in this Brett-soured hoppy pale ale, golden-hued with light haze, around 6% ABV and 45 IBUs. It’s a 50/50 blend: half pale ale inoculated with Brett in secondary and barrel-aged for six months, half a primary Brett fermentation that spent the same time in stainless.

The aroma is initially quite appealing, blooming creamily with Brett Brux’s lactic acid, a bit of lemon, some oaky vanilla and just enough yeasty funk to cue the mouth towards salivation. More than just a Brett beer, though, Winds of Change is also substantially hopped with West Coast cultivars, giving it some extra citric and herbal snap in both aroma and flavor. It’s also dry-hopped with German Tettnanger (a pound per barrel) to enhance its earthy bouquet.

After that promising first pass, though, Winds of Change starts to tail. Six months of aging is substantial enough for many beers but rarely suffices with wild yeasts. Brettanomyces in particular needs time to work its slow magic, paring back that off-medium body while producing more effervescence and the complex flavors that only come with patience. On the other hand, higher carbonation might have further imbalanced the bitterly herbal hops and mildly astringent oak tannins of the finish. Overall this blend is a fair idea—signifying to O’So fans that the brewers had something new in mind but weren’t about to abandon their roots—but a less heavy hand with the hops and more patience before bottling would have provided a much stronger tailwind.

Served: 750 ml bottle

Rating: 74

 

Schmaltz Brewing – He’Brew R.I.P.A. On Rye

HE’BREW RECENTLY collaborated with Cathedral Square Brewery of St. Louis to produce St. Lenny’s, a Belgian-yeast fermented version of He’Brew’s formidable Bittersweet Lenny’s R.I.P.A. It was a startling effort and powerfully composed, considering how many threads it tried to draw together. Less surprising, though, when weighed against He’Brew’s precedent in supercharging Lenny’s with other bold flavors. To wit, their fourth batch of R.I.P.A. on Rye, which doubling down on the rye kick of this imperial IPA by aging it in Redemption Rye whiskey barrels.

The beer pours a tawny pour with decent head formation, a touch less robust than the St. Lenny’s plume but still generously formed from divers grain proteins and high-AA hops. With the base beer as a starting point this version’s aroma is naturally more distinguished by caramel and vanilla notes from the Redemption Rye barrel-aging. The panoply of hops is still there, this time even further diversified with Saaz, though no longer making the first impression on either nose or tongue. Rye is prominent in both, meanwhile, more conspicuously spicy and peppery on the tongue than was St. Lenny’s, and trading out bready sweetness for the corn-driven kick of bourbon booze. The rye remains strong enough to almost lend a sourness near the midsection before the remaining malts of the full body start to reassert a modest caramel sweetness. Hops contribute a citric fruity tang and underscore the rye’s spice.

The finish combines alcohol slickness (showing all of its 10% ABV), moderate barrel char, and again the rye tingle in a complex if slightly coarse interplay. Fans of bourbon-forward barrel-aged stouts like Goose Island’s BCS (don’t overlook Central Waters Bourbon Barrel) may be intrigued by this beer’s integration of stout’s robust features. But its first impression may also be its best—spending more time with R.I.P.A. on Rye will begin to draw out those slightly ragged edges. Best to share around a table in smaller doses.

Served: 750 ml bottled 1/7/14

Rating: 89

Anderson Valley Brewing Company – Wild Turkey Bourbon Barrel Stout

BEERS WITH THIS long a name usually have a little more going for them. Anderson Valley do deserve credit for attempting a sessionable beer (6.9% ABV) in a category swarmed by behemoths in the teens, and this effort is far from poorly made. But such sizeable doses of alcohol do more than just go to one’s head—they can also deepen a drink’s complexity and bear up its flavors. And that’s precisely what’s missing here.

The beer’s nose leads with corn, thankfully derived from the bourbon and not brewing adjuncts, and a touch of charred oak crackle. From there it settles down, revealing the qualities of the baseline beer—oatmeal, a bit of cream, smooth chocolate from the roasted barley—that blend well with the milder barrel notes of vanilla and a little smoke. Though the beer spends several months in those Wild Turkey barrels, they don’t leave an especially pronounced impression, imparting more of the sour mash than bourbon residuals. (As an aside, Anderson Valley’s own site gets muddled over the value of Wild Turkey, attributing the bourbon’s quality both to high-proof and low-proof distillation techniques.)

Bitterness overall is understated (14 IBUs), with some earthiness from Mt. Hood hops late. More on this front would have been welcome to give the latter half of the beer some extra force, especially given the limited role of alcohol in the finish. Carbonation is fairly elevated for the style while the body is slightly lower—still full, to be sure, but not exactly like biting off a mouthful of bread.

This is a reasonable debut for a barrel-aging program, but Anderson Valley will have to do more if they intend to keep up in the business. Tweaking their baseline recipe would be a place to start, for one—perhaps by increasing the roasted barley component of the grist and stepping up the Columbus hops for a more robust baseline product. But as of now it almost takes more time to pronounce this beer’s name than to digest it.

Served: 22 oz bottle

Rating: 82

Goose Island – Sofie

SEVERAL OF GOOSE ISLAND’S Vintage Ales reveal themselves coyly, like a mademoiselle entertaining an array of suitors while committing to none. Not so Sofie. Fresh from the bottle this beer makes an unabashed statement of tropical sweet fruits that verges upon a carbonated piña colada. Thankfully, the rest of her profile proves to be more layered and over the course of a glass she earns a place alongside her sophisticated sisters. After settling into the glass, Sofie’s dense sweetness of slightly cooked pineapple and minneola oranges opens up to reveal subtler accents of green grapes and vanilla—the product of white wine barrel-aging. Meanwhile, Amarillo was used exclusively for hopping, light on bittering (20 IBUs) and relatively freely in late kettle additions to boost the pineapple in the nose. A bit of extra warmth also broadens the bouquet to introduce elements of farmhouse funk and the 6.5% ABV poking out around the edges.

Sofie’s appearance is light golden and rather clearer than anticipated for a farmhouse ale, but after the first taste this makes sense. Its wild yeasts suggest a rather fuller body than it likely has (along with bits of lemon sherbet), perhaps via lactic acid. Leaving much more lees in the bottle might have made mouthfeel too creamy.

On the palate Sofie’s distinct ingredients—fruit additions, yeast, and hops—are perfectly blended; it’s almost impossible to determine the divisions between them until the ingredients are laid out in the recipe. The malt bill is quite light (2-Row, pilsner, and wheat) and allows the yellow fruits to lead the way, as is fitting, for a strong grain presence here would have defeated its aura of a tropical vacation. Wheat remains noticeable in the texture of the finish, though, and in some light midpalate spiciness. A touch more would have given the midsection a slightly firmer character for contrast and aided in head retention (rather poor for this sample despite copious initial plumage).

There is a delicate sprinkling of wild yeast tartness and tingle in the finish, hardly distinguishable from the minerality of the water. Sofie returns to coyness here with a capricious bitterness, sometimes present just on the cusp of the swallow, sometimes entirely absent. The fruitiness remains potent throughout, though, making the beer less flexible for food pairings than Matilda. In the right circumstances (e.g. lighter seafood, soft spreads like brie and hummus, or preserve desserts) it could still be stupendous.

Altogether Sofie is another worthy effort in this exemplary series: available year-round, consistently well-made, distinctive but balanced, and always affordable. That’s also to say nothing of the trailblazing role these beers have played in reeducating Americans about beer’s potential with food. Indeed, Goose Island’s Vintage Ales are one of the best things to happen in American craft beer throughout its modern rebirth. Are we taking them for granted?

Served: 750 ml bottled Nov 5, 2013

Rating: 90

Goose Island – Bourbon County Brand Barleywine Ale (2013)

JUST AS GOOSE ISLAND developed a luxury mini-brand with their Vintage Ales, so, too, have they finally done with Bourbon County Brand Stout. Though first brewed in 1992 (long before Matilda, et al) it’s only relatively recently that BCBS branched off into new permutations—cherry, rye, coffee, even coconut—and now, more than 20 years after its creation, a different style entirely: barleywine.

Perhaps the idea of a ‘Bourbon Country Brand Stout Barleywine’ seems a little contradictory, but the connections are justified. Not only is barleywine a natural cousin to imperial stout, but Goose Island’s interpretation was also aged in BCBS barrels, thus entwining the two literally as well as figuratively.

This deep mahogany ale is far from just a rebranding exercise, though, and proves itself a welcome contrast to the thoroughly blackened complexions of the remaining lineup. One might even argue that Goose Island’s barleywine is a more suitable candidate for bourbon barrels than their stouts, as its dense toffee maltiness, caramel-rich body, and dried berry flavors match seamlessly with the sweet corn crackle of bourbon and complex barrel notes of vanilla, tannins, and a little leather and charcoal, too.

Aside from the obviously American stamp of bourbon, this barleywine’s overall impression is more distinctly English than the typically sucrose or lactose-heavy American interpretations of dessert-style beers. The 12.4% ABV, though still clobbering, is also relatively modest when compared to other BCBS ales. This allows a slightly larger head to develop and leaves a creamy residue on the glass. The alcohol sensation on the throat is also more warming like a port than crackling like a whiskey, as befits this beer’s rounder, more velvety flavors than, say, the aggressive spikes of the Coffee stout. All share IBUs of 60, and in this case contribute some moderate bitterness and a bit of herb.

            Dark chocolate malts appear mostly later in the flavor, and their slight grit and roasted notes help sop up the accumulation of caramel and fruity sugars. These also speed the transition towards the finish and its swirl of barrel notes, which overall are more cleanly of oak and wood grain than char. Carbonation approaches medium in the early going, rather higher than expected, before tapering steadily to allow the finish to settle in slowly, slowly. The aftertaste is set well back on the tongue, vaguely fruity, with a touch of minerals. Assuredly this beer will develop further with some cellaring, but already its balance of textures and flavors seems mature. And though less immediately striking than some other American indulgences of comparable rarity, it is no less worthy. To the contrary, it’s better than most and a royal successor to King Henry. Long may it live.

Served: 12 oz bottled 9/17/13

Rating: 95

The Bruery – Chocolate Rain (2013)

AN OUTRAGEOUS RIFF upon the already bombastic Black Tuesday imperial stout, The Bruery’s Chocolate Rain deserves a spotlighted podium in the museum of modern brewing. Beyond being 1) an imperial stout 2) bourbon barrel-aged 3) for a year-plus 4) with vanilla beans 5) and cocoa nibs, Chocolate Rain comes in at a gobsmacking 18+% ABV, depending on the vintage. Is now the right time to say ‘It never rains but it pours’?

The beer literally does pour like motor oil—massively viscous, a minimal oily head, impenetrable to light (100+ SRM)—and shows visible legs when swirled even gently. Its aroma is vastly luscious, packed with anise, molasses, dark chocolate (fudge, really), black roasted malt, and vanilla and coffee bean so powerfully fused as to be a single sensation. The barrel-aging is also potent with heavy lashes of oak, barrel char, bourbon corn crackle, and booze. Lots of booze, actually: enough for its fumes to begin to clear out the sinuses a touch and overwhelm the subtler flavors if inhaled too deeply.

All of these aromas manifest into flavors in a torrent, with each only emerging once the palate acclimates to the massively warm body and barrel-crackling finish. Carbonation is sufficient to keep the beer from sticking to the esophagus, but hardly enters into conscious thought and is a minimal factor in the mouthfeel and texture. Lightly piney hops can sometimes be picked out, along with more isolated vanilla smoothness, though clouds of dark chocolate still reign (rain?) over all.

Some argue that this beer is more about excess than excellence, and to some degree that complaint might be fair. Even hours after sampling Chocolate Rain remains heavy on the mind, palate, and stomach. But to unleash such a massive beer and have it be any kind of palatable—not least for its alcohol content—is an achievement of patience if nothing else. And considering all the superlatives dropped in these preceding paragraphs, a snifter of Chocolate Rain is deceptively easy to reach for repeatedly. Yet each encounter still furrows the brow, stuns the taste buds, and commands an involuntary, faintly incredulous ‘Wow’. From there drinkers’ opinions will diverge into adulation, antipathy, or perhaps even a little of both*. But all must admit that Chocolate Rain is a not just a beer in a bottle—it’s an event. An epoch, even, unlikely to be forgotten.

Yes, The Bruery has rocketed to the top of hyped new names with some truly wild recipes commanding equally extravagant prices. Some drinkers are understandably perturbed by that meteoric rise. But that ostensibly sudden traction did not grow overnight, nor from nothing. Rather, it comes only with discipline (they reportedly cellar more beer than they sell) and years patiently spent behind closed doors, in tasting rooms and aging cellars where the brewers concocted and cultivated these brews long before they became instant legends. Somehow The Bruery has managed to slow-play their hand in one of the fastest-moving industries around. And so far it looks like they’re winning.

Served: 750 ml bottled 3/4/13)

Rating: 94

* Note – The rating here reflects this continued ambivalence. On the one hand the beer is a brilliant stunner, 100 without a doubt. On the other it is hugely oversaturated and imprudent, but still a memorable rarity worth around 88. We’ll split the difference, but never settle it.