"stout" news and stories

"Is that one of those bacon beers?" my girlfriend asked, sneaking a sip of my dark-brown potion. "You know I'm a vegetarian."

"There's no meat in the beer," I said. "It's smoked malt."

"I don't like that," she said.

"Well, I do," I replied, grabbing my glass back and taking a greedy gulp.

When done poorly, you see, smoked beers -- that is, brews made with malts roasted over peat, beechwood or maybe mesquite -- can recall drinking liquified BBQ. (The German brews dubbed rauchbiers can sometimes be oppressively smoky.) But when done right, smoked beers are divine, with the campfire character complementing flavors such as chocolate.

That's why I so love the beer swirling around my glass: the Saint Petersburg Imperial Russian Stout, hailing from the U.K.'s brilliant Thornbridge Brewery. Instead of focusing on wan British milds and bitters, the brewery instead offers the sort of full-flavored, prodigiously hopped beers typically favored stateside. Thornbridge's winning lineup includes the tangy, tropical and citric Jaipur IPA; fresh-hopped Halcyon IPA; rich, malty Bracia strong ale; and, most deliciously, the Saint Petersburg.

Earlier this year, I shared a cup of coffee with Greg Hall, the brewmaster at Chicago's Goose Island. And he gave me news so incredible I nearly dropped my cup. "We're releasing special versions of Bourbon County Stout," said Hall. I think I may have yelped with glee. Here's why:

When Bourbon County was first released in 1992, the imperial stout -- which spends months marinating in oak barrels that once held Heaven Hill bourbon -- helped usher in America's delicious era of barrel-aged beers. BCS has long been my dessert drink of choice, the perfect potion to pair with chocolate cake, or just savor with close friends.

To build on the decades-long success of BCS, Hall explained, Goose Island would start rolling out special versions of the brewery's standout stout. A coffee version would be infused with Intelligentsia Black Cat espresso. Another riff would soak in 23-year-old Pappy Van Winkle bourbon barrels. And lastly, a BCS dosed with vanilla beans.

I used to imagine that brewers and winemakers got along as well as cats and dogs -- two breeds with drastically incompatible temperaments.

But then I heard the tale of Paso Robles, California's Firestone Walker Brewing Co. In honor of its tenth anniversary, in 2006, the Firestone team decided to concoct a singular brew blended from different barrel-aged beers. Firestone brewer Matt Brynildson enlisted a crew of winemakers who lent their expertise in formulating what became known as 10 -- a lush, layered elixir worthy of a wine glass.

The project was such a success that Brynildson and Firestone have replicated it each year, creating the fingerprint-unique 11, 12, 13 and, finally 14. "Our contribution to the extreme side of craft brewing has been to bring winemakers into the process," brewmaster Brynildson explained. "It's a fantastic education for us to use the incredible palates of these winemakers to learn about our own beer."

A few months ago, I had reason to consult a doctor. But this particularly doc didn't specialize in curing aches and illnesses. Instead, "Dr." Bill Sysak focused on beer, especially the art of cellaring suds.

Over the past several decades, Sysak has become one of America's most renowned beer-aging experts, and his insights proved invaluable to my recent cellaring article in Imbibe magazine. We discussed the beauty of aging Belgian strong ales, barley wines and stouts. "Bell's Expedition Stout is one of my favorite beers to age," said Sysak, currently the the beverage supervisor and certified Cicerone at Stone Brewing World Bistro & Gardens.

Expedition Stout? I've long been a fan of Michigan-based Bell's brews, including the aromatic Two Hearted Ale and summery Oberon. Yet I'd never tried Expedition. A word of advice: Don't make that same mistake.

Now that fall is here (and my landlord has not yet turned on the heat in my apartment), I like to start my mornings with a steaming bowl of oatmeal. In the cold heart of night, I also indulge in a little oatmeal -- in my beer.

When added to a stout, oats make a beer as smooth as a straight-razor shave and add a measure of sweetness. Oatmeal stouts are a refreshing contrast to the standard stouts, which can be bitter and roasty to a fault -- especially in supercharged imperial stouts.

But can oatmeal tame even the gnarliest, burliest Russian imperial stout? After meeting B.O.R.I.S., I'm inclined to answer yes. Hailing from Akron, Ohio's Hoppin' Frog Brewery, B.O.R.I.S. is also known as a Bodacious Oatmeal Russian Imperial Stout. He's one of Hoppin' Frog's numerous boldly flavored brews, such as the Frog's Hollow Double Pumpkin Beer and the Hop Dam Triple IPA -- high-ABV beers meant for sharing, not sipping by your lonesome.