Doc: After enjoying two other Sprecher ales, I had high hopes for this scotch ale, which incidentally, is one of my favourite styles. (That was not a spelling error, my bearded friend; my language has not been corrupted by Daniel Webster.). This was one of the most expensive single bottles I have purchased recently at $17, but the beer and wine storekeep assured me that it was worth my hard-earned shillings. Mind you, this was the same man who could not identify a Flemish sour ale for me despite six packs of Rodenbach perched right there on the shelf in front of him.
The beer poured from the large Grolsch-style bottle a promising deep ruby amber colour. It had a light head, but things did not begin to go wonky until I took the first sniff. It had a heady spirit aroma which presumably told the tale of whiskey barrel aging. (On another justifiably pedantic note, the Yanks have the spelling of this word correct, unlike the Scottish, who, because of their rain-addled brains forget the 'e' in whiskey.). There was also a distinctly peaty smoky smell; not all bad at this point, but in hindsight, the writing was on the wall.
The first sip brought an immediate overwhelming surge of whiskey, smoke, and that crusty sugar of old honey. It was too sweet, and the sugar was an unpleasant sickly, glucose-y, type. And then, instead of warming on the palate, the sugar stuck to the tongue leaving little else but a whiff of smoke.
I'm afraid that five or six sips were all I could manage before the rest went down the sink; my beer calories are too valuable for this kind of a kerfuffle.
As I mentioned, this was a huge disappointment, not just because I had enjoyed other Sprecher beers and had shelled out $17, but because I love Scotch Ales.
My rating: 78
Consider, instead, the wonderful Old Chub by Oskar Blues: drinking this is like wrapping yourself in a thick feather duvet. It has incredible dark chocolate, toasted nuts, coffee, even brown bread malts, and is thick and viscose; as it slides down your gullet it clings to the sides and warms your very innards. In fact, I think I'll have one now and settle down for an episode of Downton Abbey. And now I think of it, Old Chub is like Mr. Bates the valet: just seeing him makes you relax, feel warm and safe, and know that you are not going to be disappointed.
Schoolie: Where to begin? Should it be at the Mr. Bates of Downton Abbey reference or on the beer itself. It seems to me like the enjoyment of a nice beer may have more to do with the surroundings, the atmosphere, and the mood than the beer itself. My shilling packing friend and I had just returned from a overly crowded kids play zone and were a bit rattled as we looked forward to this nice looking (and expensive) beer. It was an 8.2% as I recall and was full of the whiskey flavors that were mentioned (and misspelled) above. But the mood was not right. We went to a Dogfish Head Immort Ale after the Sprechsr's, and it didn't seem right either, and the Immort Ale had been a tried and true friend in the past. We stepped back a few percentage points and went back to the Immort a little later, and it was delicious. Perhaps we should have done the same with the Scotch Ale. In any case, it didn't work for me either, and I will give it low marks as well, but I can't help but wonder that I may rate it much higher in a different setting and with a better lead up. So if Old Chub is like Mr. Bates, this beer is more like Lady Mary: pretty on the outside, but a bit hard to live with.
My Rating: 75 ... for now
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