Bottled & Corked expands its scope beginning this week to include another of man’s great creations: beer. We hope you enjoy the additional coverage in one of our most popular columns.
The first sip is always the most important. Don’t doubt this. The first sip determines everything.
It’s the temperature shock when your lips first encounter the cold brew. It’s the carbonation dancing on your tongue. It’s the unexpected (or expected) dose of yeast, hops, and malt that washes over your taste buds. It’s the delayed swallow as you contemplate what just hit you. It’s that brief nanosecond when your eyes close and your senses widen. It’s the smile, the ingratiating nod of approval you pass the bartender’s way, or the audible, “Ahhhhh…” that escapes your throat.
Are you thirsty yet?
Whatever the reaction, there is an undeniable moment, however brief, of sincere enlightenment that accompanies the first sip of a truly great beer. After all, you know what they say about first impressions. Tasting a great beer for the first time is like a rite of passage. It means a lot to take that first sip.
Beer and wine lovers all have a “wish list” — a queue that continues to grow along with one’s passion for the beverages. Every time we read a slew of reviews in Wine Enthusiast or skim through user musings on BeerAdvocate.com, our wish list lengthens due to that human instinct to blurt out (either audibly or to ourselves), “I must try that,” or, “I want that.”
With the tantalizing rise in worldwide craft, micro, and home beer brewing, beer tastings have become as commonplace as wine tastings. There’s something out there for everyone. Every taste, every flavor seems to exist, especially in the beer market.
Within the world of craft brewing, there’s an intentional emphasis placed on the importance of not just the initial taste, but the entire beer-drinking experience. Risk-taking brewers have transcended the commonplace pilsners and lagers that make up the mass market of everyday brews in favor of creating niche beers for the most discerning tastes.
Experimental brewers are going to great lengths to make their beer stand out from the crowd. Organic beers (like Bison Brewing’s Organic I.P.A.), chocolate and peanut butter stouts (like Duclaw’s Sweet Baby Jesus!), specialty holiday seasonal beers (like Troegs Mad Elf or Samuel Adams Old Fezziwig Ale), renewed interest in ancient beer brewing techniques (like Dogfish Head’s Midas Touch, supposedly based on beer recipes that date back to 700 B.C.), and beers that actually have animal ingredients (like Ramsgate’s Black Pearl Oyster Stout) have surfaced to delight curious beer drinkers.
Even importers are finally taking risks on bringing in traditional and specialty brews from all corners of the world. For example, it used to be that Hoegaarden’s witbier and Stella Artois’ pale lager were the only Belgian beers found in U.S. bars (maybe you’d find the occasional specialty Trappiste brew, like Chimay Grand Reserve). Now, American drinkers are being treated to previously unavailable international beer gems; many higher-end bars are constantly rotating their stock of “what’s on tap” to keep consumers’ options plentiful.
This is a good thing. Consumers are learning about all that’s available beyond Miller, Coors, and Bud. There’s something special about the direction craft and micro brewers are taking; they’re attempting to create flavors and experiences beer drinkers have been craving, while at the same time continuing to satisfy the expectations relative to what made drinkers fall in love with beer in the first place. I don’t mean to diminish the common, everyday beer. (I mean, as I write this, I have a Yuengling Lager close at hand.) There is a comfort in the “old fall-backs” that keep us returning for more. But the human spirit is, by nature, curious, and we crave what we’ve never had.
Enter the “wish list.” It’s time to make some of those wishes a reality. Recently, I’ve been indulging in some new beers (well, new to me). A beer that I was able to strike off my wish list was De Struise Brouwer’s Sint Amatus Ootsvleteren 12. It’s no secret to those who know me best that I am an avid Belgian beer fanatic, so this brew has been on my radar for awhile.
I was able to order a bottle from a delightful purveyor of all things Belgium, so thanks to Kurt at BelgiumInABox.com, I could finally try this beer. I purchased a single 33-centiliter bottle from the 2010 vintage. (Yes, a bottle-aged beer … sounding a little like a wine? Well, it should).
Before I get to that precious first sip, here are some details about the brewery. De Struise started in 2006 and was turning out fine microbrews in Oostvleteren, Belgium, by 2009. The company brews a whole line of both traditional and experimental brews. (I’ve also tried their 2011 vintage Christmas beer called Struise Tsjeeses … out of this world and unique.)
The Sint Amatus 12 is named after a real Benedictine monk of that name. With elaborate label artwork, the Sint Amatus bottle stands out. What’s really unique and intriguing about this beer is that, while on the surface it seems just like any other traditional Belgian dark, quad ale, this one is aged in used Kentucky bourbon barrels. Most notably, Struise uses barrels from Woodford Reserve, a prominent small-batch bourbon producer in the United States.
Now, for that first sip.
Beer name: Sint Amatus Oostvleteren 12 (2010 vintage), 33-cL bottle
Type of glass: Trappiste beer chalice-style glass; I used a St. Bernardus glass
Other info: 10.5 percent alcohol by volume; misleadingly strong, should be a “sipper;” at around 300 calories, it’s filling, too — not a “lite” beer
Tasting notes: The nose was unassuming and what was expected of a strong, dark Belgian ale, especially a quad ale. The yeast and malt are prominent, even on the nose.
At first sip, the palate is overwhelmed (in a good way!) by the sweetness of candy sugar and malt, but it’s smooth. Judging by the age of the bottle, the bottle conditioning has a lot to do with the smoothness factor. It was so easy to drink.
Now, about those bourbon barrels … the flavor is there, but it is kind of hidden; it’s an afterthought on the back of the tongue. The wood taste and potency of the bourbon mixes well. It is more in the aftertaste, if anything.
After drinking nearly the entire glass, well past that excitement of the first sip and on to the sheer contentment of the whole experience, I wondered if a younger bottle (a 2013, perhaps?) would have the bourbon barrel wood more potent and up-front. Needless to say, while the beer is no longer on my wish list, it has certainly moved to my list of favorites.
Score: 4.75 out of 5