Bourbon V.B.M.

 It's wet and windy, work is on the way and I was wondering what would I do? How many 'w's can I get into alliteration? Should I beware of the dog, doggo or doglet? What is the circumference of a moose? (It's Douglas Adams with his face in a pie multiplied by Michael Palin squared) And so it was that I wended my way to a can of Very Big Moose by Fierce that I got delivered back in Lockdown from the Crafty One - I had two delivered because one was part of the cost of a bike from a friend - and I really must do a post about the amazing things done by the Crafty One soon.

However, right now, it's about an imperial stout aged in American Oak barrels that formerly held bourbon and so would you like to know more?

This took a bit of choosing - I was going to go for a stout, I knew that, but I wanted something worth it and big because it is the last chance I'll get for a while to drink beer going back to work. The trouble is, there are some excellent examples of big stouts that I have been building up, as evidenced by the post on the You're Not You When You're Thirsty (which, apparently, ran into copyright issues because now it's called The One We Can't Talk About and I've got one of those in too...). You see, the Crafty One is a bit too good at getting great stouts in and I'm not good enough at getting them drunk. After a few false starts I settled on this one for... well, I don't know why, but the fact is I opened it and poured.

And what a pour! It came out black and dark, with a biscuit coloured head and an actually noticeable fizz. I don't know what I was expecting from a big stout, it's 12.5%, but a fizz wasn't really it. Instant hit of the aroma in the air, pungent and thick, as one would expect. The can claims that there are vanillin flavours and I don't know what that word means, but I suspect it is vanilla-based from the oak like what Innis & Gunn do with their ales, but that's not the nose of this at all. No, the nose is deep and pungent, thick, dark and... a bit like a whiskey if it had been blended into a milkshake? Yes, milkshake, but with whiskey, that's it.

Willow commented that the can made her think it should be either mint or pistachio, and I can see where she is coming from, but I had no such expectations as I took a sip. Instantly, there's a hit of the alcohol on the tongue, very reminiscent of my limited experience with whiskey. My friend from Carlisle who knows about such things (well, I should clarify, there are two who take their whiskey seriously and several who, although serious, are not in the same league) would sometimes try to ply me with whiskey and get me to understand its complexities and tastes. The feeling on the opening of this is similar to what I got then - strong and whiskey. This is followed by the fizz, yes fizz in a stout (and it is surprisingly not incongruous, it's like finding out that Sandy Toksvig replaced Stephen Fry fronting QI, it shouldn't work. But then you watch it and it sort of does and you understand why it was done, even if you think QI has kinda moved far beyond its original charm), and then a calming velvety chocolate at the end settles over the remains of the mouthful. The sides are awash in the usual thick maltiness and the overall impression is one of potential conflict.

Now, I can see the case for the vanilla stylings, it is subtle but it rests on the chocolate malt and the fire of the whiskey remaining from the barrels and super-charged by the 12.5% ABV. It draws the experience together because it hits at the same time as the fire of the alcohol, suffuses the bashing waves of chocolate at the end and laps gently at the edges of the texture. When the aftertaste kicks in it is with the memory of the fire from the whiskey barrels and the calming shroud of the fog of vanilla from the oak in the barrels. It's hard to properly explain, but this is a very big moose of a stout, meaning the name is fitting, and there is a feeling that one is in the Canadian wilderness awaiting the approach of a large shaggy animal from the depths of a frozen forest. Luckily, the taste is enough to keep one warm and fuzzy. Or maybe it's the strength. I don't know. One thing is certain, it is as surprising as the lyrics to I'm a Lumberjack by Monty Python, but not in anything like the same way.

One thing is clear: it is a sipper of an ale. I wouldn't recommend taking anything other than sips. It sits well in the glass, it works well at room temperature. It is indulgent, luxurious. Willow said it was exactly like the 72% cocoa Peruvian single origin chocolate that Moser Roth used to do through Aldi (I like to be topical, and beer and Aldi are topical on Twitter right now, right?) in that she expected it to be minty (and, indeed, was convinced it was for a good year) and yet it wasn't all because of the green in the packaging. The can has a lot of green, it is true. However, I cannot speak to that. I do not detect any mint (or pistachio) but I do detect the whiskey. I detect the malt. It should be a milkshake. It is not, it is a stout. And the day is wet and miserable, so the strength and the fire is perfect and welcome. Even the feeling that the alcohol is trying to escape through my nostrils (another feature of the ill-fated attempt to explain whiskey to me) is not off-putting. It feels very much like this stout is just a delivery system to inject the whiskey, sorry, bourbon into my system.

Like the vast and foreboding wilderness of the conifer forests of Canada or the Taiga in northern Russia, the still blackness of the stout drowns all sound to be left with an enveloping and plush silence, fat with the potential of life and imagination, ready for the cold reflected light of the moon to illuminate in monochrome. But not to drain the world of colour, rather to cast it in a new and artistic light. That is the overall feeling of this ale, surprising and inconstant but welcoming in its eccentricity and comforting in its darkness with the edge of the alcoholic strength. If you are planning on a hike to see the sun at midnight or even experience perpetual night then this is the ale I would recommend taking with you to have when you strike up camp and wait for the aurora borealis to begin. That might also explain the green on the can, come to think of it!

For those looking for a rating, you are maybe on the wrong beer blog, but I would rate it Very Big on the Moose scale.

Critical Temperature

Thank goodness that the weather has calmed! I mean, tropical storm, but at least it's not another heatwave. 2020 has brought many things (and I do mean to blog about some of them) but heatwaves... well, there's been rather too many of them. It seems, therefore, somewhat fitting that when I popped into The Crafty One Bar and Bottle Shop (largely because I could) that I pick up a coffee-porter by the name of Critical Temperature from Atom because, well, it is.

It's a mark of how long it's been since I have blogged that I honestly can't recall if this is the first mention of the brewery or not. Still, it's not terribly important if it is or it is not. Would you like to know more?

The style, coffee porter, rather gives a few things away from the off: it's not a stout, it's not sweet and it's not a stout. It does this because the name includes the hidden word: porter. And coffee. In fact, it rather tells you that you're not in for a dessert experience. Which is perfect, because I was attempting to recreate the experience of an annual trip to the Proms with my father and brother, which includes a decent ale on the train to London. The fact that it has coffee in it, in the name at least, means that it is the sort of ale that would usually feature on such a trip as a pick-me-up rather than a put-me-to-sleep. And so it proves on the pour. I shall be honest, it has not been long since I got it from the shop and I walked rather quickly back, so it was a bit fizzier than I would have liked and was a bit lively in the glass!

That said, it calms quickly and rapidly expands in aroma. It has a pleasant sort of roasted smell up close, putting me in mind of the old coffee shop on Bank Street in Carlisle that I don't even know whether or not still exists. So, making a reference to a particular smell that probably no one reading this will know. I'm a man of the people, I am, regular populist. Anyway, where was I? Oh, Carlisle, on a train. Yes, this is coffee heavy up close and as someone who isn't a huge fan of coffee you might think this was a bad thing. But it's not. It's hard and meaty, it knows what it is and it is definite and not insipid. These days, few ales are. But this is a definite aroma and, for that, it is good. Like one expects of a porter, it knows its way around, guv. Good colour, dark and swirling, and a nice head on it.

Into the taste and I was surprised. A lot of my drinking has been dessert stouts (like the amazing Desserts in a Can from Amundsen that I hope I will get round to talking about on here) and so the fact that this is not sweet is something of a change. Once I had got over my initial confusion, borne almost entirely out of expectation, then we were into the real territory. Second sip! Bit fizzy around the edges, soft and velvety in the middle, with the texture of flat cola. This is not a bad texture for a porter to have, it is smooth and gentle. The aroma plays a role, of course it does, pushing for a rougher edge that never quite appears, and the roof of the mouth plays host to the dryness of the bubbles and the coffee taste. The roast never dominates, never pushes aside, and the dryness never becomes bitter - but it remains not sweet. As it pulsates down to the back of the throat there isn't any roar of the alcohol, and it is 5.5% so it's no lightweight, and then it drains pleasingly down the throat like a cough lozenge without the sugar. What I'm saying is, it's a porter done well with coffee overtones, exactly what it says it's going to be.

As I am not, in fact, on a train; this beer works well for me. I can imagine it being the sort of ale that I would enjoy on a trip to London and the sort of size that would make for amusing tales of how I managed to find a glass/cup that would take it. It's 440ml, which appears to be something of an industry standard now. Back when I was posting more regularly such ideas were far off and bottle still dominated (was it really only two years ago?) but I have spotted a definite trend to this size. I'm not complaining, it meant that the lively head and pour was well contained by my pint glass!

And yes, it moves through the glass well. the first taste is very much a facet of the coffee, but as I get through the ale I find that it remains dry without becoming rough and brusque. It stays smokey without becoming like a BBQ sauce or paprika spice. In short, the more I drink, the clearer the balance becomes in the taste and I can't and won't complain. Unlike the very hot weather that has had me in actual shorts for a while (I know, and I call myself a northerner too! Mind you, I don't even have a big coat) this has been comfortable and pleasant. It's not an A-Team theme tune but it is a nice little drinker to have on the way to somewhere (my somewhere will have takeaway Chinese food and a Prom performance on the telly) without spoiling one's appetite or making one tipsy enough not to be able to enjoy another ale.

One thing has been pretty constant, I don't tend to have more than a single beer on any given day, because I am a. a lightweight and b. boring. Oh, and 3. me. Anyway, this is the sort of ale that, if you give enough space, you can probably risk having something else later. I like that. One final point: it does say treacle on the can, I can't detect it but that doesn't mean it's not there. I suspect that is what stops it getting too dry for me and keeps things balanced, but I honestly can't say I spotted it. Maybe it's the texture (I went with velvety rather than treacle, but the effect is much the same).

Drink best when waiting for something with anticipation. Autumn. Waiting for winter. Leaves are golden, squirrels are eating acorns and there's a band playing in the park bandstand with an accordion, drum and fiddle. Somewhere there are women singing in harmonies without instruments. There are pine trees and a bat is courting a maiden fair. Hoo-hoo, says the wise owl and you take a sip that lets the alcohol warm and the coffee keep alert. Settle, rest, sip again and close your eyes...

You're Not You When You're Thirsty

 Hmm, cobwebs. I can clear that. Oh, and some dents, they'll buff out eventually. Oh, is this thing still on? Oh, oh! It is. Sorry, stream of consciousness there, I apologise. I am just finishing off a You're Not You When You're Thirsty from S43. Obviously I picked it up from a delivery from the Crafty One (see here) because they have been amazing over the Lockdown (I mean, they're amazing generally, but offering beer deliveries since March has been amazing. Rubbish for my bank balance, but amazing for all other things).

Would you like to know more?