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.
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