"beer of the week" news and stories

It was one of those nights when I drank too much, too quickly, too early. "Maybe you should get a glass of water?" my girlfriend suggested, as I deposited myself at the kitchen table.

Hers was a smart suggestion, but I'd long abandoned common sense. I wanted a nightcap beer, but what to drink? My fridge was stuffed with 22-ouncers of imperial stouts, double IPAs and other strong beers that, in a pinch, could double as rocket fuel. One of those, and I'd be spun like a top into tomorrow's hangover.

But hidden in back I found an aluminum can adorned with an ape astronaut: Bitter American, the seasonal pale ale from San Francisco's 21st Amendment. Through fuzzy eyes I read that Bitter American boasted a respectable 42 IBUs and just 4.4 percent ABV -- session-beer country.

I cracked the tab and was met with a floral bouquet of citrus and subdued caramel (it's dry-hopped with Centennial and Simcoe hops). BA smelled like an IPA but drank far crisper, with a nice biscuity body and enough bitterness to appease my inner hop head. I finished the beer on the double, then fell asleep even faster.

"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.

It was an arctic winter night and snow was tumbling down, as fluffy as freshly grated Parmesan. There was no way I was slogging to my local bar for a nightcap. I reached into my fridge. "It's time for a stomach warmer," I said to myself, retrieving a Smuttynose Wheat Wine.

Ever since I could legally order a beer, I've been savoring brews from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, brewery Smuttynose. They're an East Coast stalwart, makers of lip-smackers such as the English-influenced Shoals Pale Ale and the citrusy Finestkind IPA. But the brewers really let their hair down in the Big Beer Series, devising burly beauties like the S'Muttonator Doppelbock, Belgian-style Farmhouse Ale and Wheat Wine Ale.

When the hybrid brew -- it's like a potent barley wine with a large percentage of wheat, which adds a softer, richer mouthfeel -- was released in 2005, it was the first commerically bottled take on the style. Accolades were almost instant: Wheat Wine Ale won a gold at that year's Great American Beer Festival.

Suds. Brewski. Barley pop. There are dozens of synonyms for beer, but I'll bet you a buck you've never heard this 16th-century Flemish phrase: De Dochter Van De Korenaar, translated into English as "the daughter of the corn ear."

It's not a phrase consigned to a dusty history book. Instead, it's the moniker for one of Belgium's newest, smallest and best breweries. In 2007, brewmaster and owner Ronald Mengerink (who has brewed since he was a teenager) opened the taps at De Dochter and soon garnered fans of his genre-bending brews.

"With every beer he creates, he's looking to invent something new," says Brian Ewing, owner of importer 12 Percent. "His beers tend to be more of hybrids -- things that blur the lines between multiple styles."

For starters, Noblesse is a 5.5 percent ABV Belgian pale ale that drinks as crisp and desert-dry as a saison, with citric flavors, slightly sour nose and heady bitterness. Courage is a potent wheat ale (8 percent ABV) with flavors recalling star anise or perhaps fennel. The Embrasse strong ale (9 percent ABV) earns its complex notes of coffee, cocoa, toffee and a touch of smoke from a blend of eight malts.

This year, a new breed of India pale ales burst onto the beer scene displaying a tint typically associated with stouts and porters: black.

While those tarmac-hued brews weigh on your tongue like a sack of marbles, black IPAs remain remarkably light. They balance an IPA's bitterness with a darker beer's roasted, chocolaty character, creating a lip-smacking mash-up. (Since a black India pale ale may seem oxymoronic, some brewers and bloggers dub this style a Cascadian dark ale. It references the Pacific Northwest's Cascades range, where many breweries are located. I like black IPA myself, but whatever floats your boat.)

The current avalanche of black IPAs includes Deschutes' Hop in the Dark; Laughing Dog's Dogzilla; and, fresh off the bottling line from Oregon's Full Sail Brewing Company, Bump in the Night (proudly called a Cascadian Dark Ale on the label, FYI). "As a small, independent craft brewer, we have the freedom to be creative and explore new beer styles," said Full Sail CEO and founder Irene Firmat.

As expected, Bump (6.5 percent ABV) pours a smidgen lighter than a lump of Christmas coal. Then the trickery begins: The beer's nose is floral, full of citrus and tropical notes and a touch chocolate, while the fruity, moderately bitter (65 IBUs) flavor is cut with toast and roast.

For this bitter beer, going to the dark side is a very good thing.

Any black IPAs or, err, CDAs that tickle your taste buds? Spill it in the comments.