Winter will be your season of discontent only if you can’t stand strong beers. Cold temperatures really call out for big flavors and a certain amount of alcohol. It’s no wonder that the English term for them is winter warmers. These days, there is no shortage of beers that suit that term. It’s great to see the excitement around seasonal beers in general, and especially a bit of frenzy around the special releases for the holidays.
While a Midwestern winter is normally nothing to get too excited about, I sometimes find that I am actually looking forward to a little chill in the air. As I stockpile strong, cellar-worthy beers through the year, they sit on the shelf until the appropriate season comes along, as they’re kind of a waste in warmer months, I think. So, come on snow, sleet, ice. Old Man Winter, do your worst. I’ve got beer to drink.
The church is near, but the road is icy; the pub is far, but we will walk carefully.
— Russian proverb
People have been making a fuss over Christmas since way before it was Christmas. The winter solstice that occurs at that time of the year is a big deal. Without some celebration, we would all be plunged into an interminable cold, dark future — a dread we northerners know all too well around the end of February. A little strong beer is a great way to take the chill off and celebrate the renewal of spring even though it’s down the road a ways.
As these antique Scandinavian labels show, there is a long and charming tradition of special holiday beers in the chilly North.
While our predecessors undoubtedly drank less small beer and more full-strength beer in the winter, there is not a lot of evidence for winter-specific and holiday beers until around the second half of the twentieth century. Our ever-changing, variety-mad craft beer marketplace is a very recent thing in the long history of beer. Most people had very limited choices.
People in earlier times did like to spice up their drinking with special compounded beverages based on beer, with spices, sugar, wine, or spirits and enhancers such as cream or eggs. To help warm everyone’s cockles, many of them were heated, sometimes in a copper “ale boot,” a shoe-shaped vessel whose toe could be pushed into the coals at the edge of the hearth, gently warming the ale.
Flip is a hot beverage made with ale, eggs, and other flavorings caramelized with a red-hot poker, or “loggerhead.”
The beverage most associated with the winter solstice and Christmas is wassail. It serves as inspiration for many modern American spiced holiday ales despite being cider — rather than beer — based. Nevertheless, wassail’s cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and ginger, added to a strongish dark ale, is a pretty typical recipe for a holiday ale. Anchor’s Our Special Ale was the original in this vein, created in the mid-1980s. Spiced winter ales can be delightful, but a brewer needs to use a light touch with the spicing to prevent them from being overbearing and tiresome.
Probably because of the propensity of mud-colored spiced beers to overwhelm the palate, brewers have been moving toward alternatives for some time. Many are simply strong, darkish brews loosely in the English strong ale tradition. Pyramid’s Snow Cap was an early stalwart.
Sierra Nevada’s Celebration Ale takes a distinctly American tack. At 6.8% ABV, it’s a modestly strong take on the company’s house style, deep amber, packed with raisiny caramel malts and dripping with American C-hops: Cascade, Centennial, and Chinook varieties, fresh from the fall harvest.
Here are a few quick recipes for these venerable old beverages, sure to get your juices flowing.
Crambambull This is the name for an eggnog made with ale. The recipe calls for mixing up a classic eggnog base, then blending it with beer and perhaps a dash of rum, bourbon, or brandy at serving time.
Eggnog base: Separate 4 eggs, then whisk the yolks with 1/3 cup muscovado or turbinado sugar until the sugar dissolves. Add 2 cups whole milk, 1 cup heavy cream (whipped if you like an extra-fluffy texture), and 1⁄2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg — more or less to taste — and perhaps a tiny pinch of cinnamon, if you like. Then whip the egg whites to soft peaks, add 1 teaspoon regular granulated sugar, and continue whipping to stiff peak stage. Then fold into the rest of the mixture and chill.
To serve: Start with 4 ounces of your favorite holiday beer, 1⁄2 ounce of your choice of booze, and then top with 6 ounces of the nog base and enjoy.
Crambambull
Flip This an ancient hot beverage that was a cherished tradition a couple of centuries ago. After simmering the ingredients together for a short time, a red-hot poker called a loggerhead is jabbed into the mix, where it heats and caramelizes the beverage. Big holiday fun as long as you keep the kids — and everything else — away from the red-hot poker.
Combine 4 cups strong ale, 2 ounces aged rum, 1⁄4 cup muscovado or turbinado sugar, 1⁄4 teaspoon cinnamon, 2 whole cloves (or a pinch of ground), and a strip of lemon zest in a saucepan. Simmer, but don’t boil, then turn off the heat and remove the cloves and lemon peel. Beat 4 whole eggs, and then gradually add some of the warm ale mixture to the eggs, stirring constantly. Finally, add the beaten egg mixture to the rest of the ale and beat passionately until it foams a little. To be authentic, heat up a well-washed iron bar or fireplace poker to a cherry-red color, then carefully (and maybe with eye protection) plunge it into the drink, where it will bubble and fume spectacularly. You could instead just heat it a bit more on the stovetop.
The final step is a little more frothing. Flip was also known as “Yard of Flannel,” because it was frothed up by pouring from cup to cup, and accomplished mixers could do this in a pretty show-offy way, making a long tan stream from glass to glass. You can simply whip out the whisk or electric mixer and foam away. Flip was traditionally served in a large tapered glass tumbler, which was passed from person to person.
Bishop Bake an orange studded with 4 whole cloves until soft, about 30 minutes at 250°F (121°C). Quarter the orange, remove the seeds, and put the slices in a saucepan with 2 cups strong ale and 1 tablespoon raw sugar, and heat not quite to boiling. Remove from the heat and allow the drink to cool to a drinkable temperature. Serve in mugs; place a small pat of butter on top if you’d like to gild the lily.
Bishop
With the mad hubbub of the holidays and the chilly temperatures in many places, there aren’t all that many major beer events in December. But you should check your local listings, as there are lots of small events, ugly-sweater parties, charity fundraisers, and other means of lifting your holiday spirits.
(Christmas Beer Festival) A very special fest in Essen, near Antwerp, Belgium, focuses exclusively on the very characterful — and strong — Belgian Christmas beers. Six nights, five days midmonth.
Held in heated tents under an immense decorated Christmas tree in downtown Portland, Oregon, this five-day fest features winter-themed craft beers of all stripes, “from Belgians to barleywines to stouts to sours,” many of them special editions that aren’t available anywhere else. Early December.
For decades, English brewers have been making winter warmers that offer a bit more alcohol than standard bitter and pale ales, typically ranging from 5 to 8% ABV or occasionally higher, and usually with a burnished mahogany color, a dense creamy foam, and a balance hewing close to the brewery’s house character. With a really good one, your attention bounces from nutty sweetish malt to hops to toast and round and round, chasing its own tail in the most captivating way. Served on cask, a beer like this can be a feast for the senses.
The term warmer is commonly applied to rich and typically dark winter seasonal brews, although not all brewers use this term for the style. Strong ale is a common descriptor in the UK, but in the United States, the Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) does not allow terms of strength on beer labels, so a variety of other terms are used. Some English terms are regional — for example, stingo in Yorkshire.
Two for your consideration: Fuller’s Old Winter Ale (4.8% ABV), sort of a dark and malty mild in their house style, with a minimal hop presence; and Young’s Winter Warmer (5.0% ABV), brewed from Maris Otter malt seasoned with Fuggle and Golding hops, lightened up with the brewery’s “unique cane sugar mix.”
Part of the same family of strong British beers, old ale is a sometimes a carelessly applied term meaning that some or all of the beer has undergone extensive aging in oak. The wood’s porosity makes it a haven for a number of wild microbes, most notably Brettanomyces, which can add aromas reminiscent of a barnyard or pineapple candy. Historically the aged character was referred to as “stale.” Stale wasn’t a negative and didn’t mean spoiled or sour, as the old books of the period always have a chapter dedicated to remedies for that sorry condition.
In America, we have the obese, jolly, cookie- and Coke-loving Santa, but not all children have such an affable benefactor at Christmastime. In the Alps and adjacent parts of Europe, a sort of anti-Santa called Krampus seeks out wicked children, removing them to his lair for what can only be assumed to be reprogramming. Saint Nicholas has a malevolent companion in Belgium: Zwarte Piet, or “Black Pete,” a colorfully dressed reformed devil (or freed Moorish slave — whichever story you prefer), face stained black from chimney entrances. He leaves gifts in the children’s shoes, and fortunately, there might just be room in there for a special bottle of beer. Belgians celebrate December 6 and the eve before to honor him and his benefactor, Sinterklaas, their name for St. Nicholas.
Belgian brewers love to celebrate the holidays with special versions of their beers. They are usually just amped-up versions of already strong beers, sometimes a little darker in color. Be careful. Normal Belgian beers are alarmingly drinkable, and these extra-strong cuvées are doubly dangerous. Here are a few Christmas specialties that might taste great for a pre-holiday soirée. Don’t forget to leave your shoes out.
Anchor Christmas Ale Like so many things emanating from Anchor, this beer, launched in 1975, revived the tradition of special holiday beers in the United States, inspiring many others. At first it was unseasoned, but the brewery soon switched to an assertively spiced recipe that varied widely from year to year. Anchor’s tradition is to be absolutely secretive about the recipe. While not meant to age, these beers are fun to taste as a mini vertical. 5.5% ABV.
Three Floyds Alpha Klaus In keeping with the Floyd’s house style, this is an unspiced classic American porter, meaning it has a buttload of West Coast hops, building citrus and plywood notes on top of a very rich chocolaty porter lightened up a little by the use of Mexican unrefined sugar. Long, bittersweet cocoa finish. 6.0% ABV.
Samuel Smith’s Winter Welcome One of the first English winter warmers available in the United States, this widely available amber-brown beer is still a standard. With a rich, lightly creamy mouthfeel with hints of nuts and dried fruits, it is an unspiced beer in the classic tradition. 6.0% ABV.
Birrificio Del Ducato Krampus A wildly delicious Brettanomyces-inflected strongish spiced golden ale from a stellar brewery in northern Italy, it has a barnyard nose with clove and gumdrop overtones. It’s named for Santa’s avenging evil twin, appropriately enough, since this pale, dry, and very wild creation is everything most Christmas beers are not. 7.0% ABV.
Breckenridge Christmas Ale A classic American craft take on a winter warmer, with caramel and chocolate flavors balanced by loads of rich, fruity notes and some slightly citrus-peel hops. Liquid fruitcake! 7.4% ABV.
Anderson Valley Winter Solstice This long-running craft operation in the stunningly beautiful valley northeast of the Sonoma wine region has long been famous for its generously hopped beers. 7.9% ABV.
Thirsty Dog 12 Dogs of Christmas This Akron, Ohio–based brewery is a bit of a hidden treasure — unless you live in northern Ohio, of course. This dark ruby brew has a classic honeyed spice-cake nose, rich toffee and toast on the palate, and a long, fruity, bittersweet finish. 8.3% ABV.
Brasserie de la Senne Equinox/Zwarte Piet A rich, dark Belgian ale with raisiny flavors and a slightly chocolaty finish from brewer Yvan DeBaets, who is also a beer historian and author. 8% ABV.
Affligem Noël Luscious, softly chocolaty beer in the Belgian strong dark pantheon. Plenty of dark dried fruit notes: cherries, plums, and more. A little hops for balance plus brewer’s caramel sugar to give it a really deadly drinkability — in a good way, of course. 9.0% ABV.
The Bruery “12 Days of Christmas” Series Every year, the beer in this series (begun in 2008) varies widely and reflects, as much as possible, the familiar song lyrics. For example, “two turtle doves” translated to a chocolate pecan (a.k.a. Turtles candy) beer. Alcohol varies between 10 and 12% ABV.
Troeg’s Mad Elf This cherry-infused beer was rated number one in Joe Sixpack’s (Don Russell) book Christmas Beers, and this eastern Pennsylvania beer is definitely a contender. With sweet and sour cherries, lightened a bit with some local honey, it’s a gloriously festive, ruby-red mouthful that’s way too easy to drink. 11% ABV.
Schmaltz Brewing Jewbelation Ale In keeping with the importance of symbolic numbers in the Hebraic tradition, each year’s edition uses the same number of malts and hops as the anniversary year, and the alcohol content keeps pace as well. After a decade and a half, the beer is pretty big and complex, and it’s almost easier to say what’s not in it. Rich, deep, brooding, and dark, it’s sugarplums in a glass. At this point in the series, it’s 15% ABV and higher.
Alaska in January? Sure, why not. This long-running fest in Anchorage gives you plenty of reasons to stay indoors and enjoy the great beers and extra-cozy Alaskan camaraderie. A great festival with lots of side events, a mini homebrewing conference, and more, it’s also a fundraiser for the American Diabetes Association. Midmonth; coincides with Alaska Beer Week, with plenty of fun events to keep you warm.
This food-centric event in the luxury ski resort of Vail, Colorado, draws rave reviews from brewers and attendees alike. Not just a festival, but lots of tasting events, dinners, educational seminars, and more. Ski off the night’s beers on the slopes in the morning before the fun begins. Second week.
Beer Dabbler Winter Carnival, St. Paul, Minnesota]
As the gales swirl and the snow builds up, there is nothing so comforting as a snifter of really strong ale to sip by the fireplace. There are plenty of choices here, but the deepest, darkest days of winter call out for the king of all strong beers: barleywine.
While most of us enthusiasts in the United States think of it as a defined style, barleywine has never really been much more than a poetic term for any strong beer. In England, that generally meant a strong “October” beer, most famously brewed on country estates in private brewhouses. Luminously amber, loaded with hops and a complex vinous aroma due to extended aging in oak casks, these prized beers were the precursors to modern IPAs. A special brewing technique called double mashing allowed alcohol strength in some special versions to climb well over 10% ABV, definitely into wine territory.
At their best, such beers coax massive complexity out of just a few high-quality ingredients such as the heirloom Marris Otter malt and East Kent Golding hops, making them the conceptual equivalent of something like a Grand Cru Burgundy, dependent on very special ingredients and local terroir.
Barleywine was first used as a descriptor in marketing by Bass Brewery, applying the term to their massive (10% ABV) Number 1 sometime prior to 1900. Other English brewers applied it occasionally to their strong, but not necessarily mind-numbing, beers. Sometimes the term can be found on beers around 6% ABV. It’s actually fairly challenging to find a British beer that’s labeled as a barleywine, although many strong beers exist.
At any rate, the term caught the imagination of American craft brewers. Anchor, in San Francisco, was the first to release one — by a mile — launching their Old Foghorn as early as 1975. Since then, most U.S. barleywines have followed the Foghorn model: strong, rich, deeply amber, and loaded with hops, but numerous variations exist. The End. I told you it was short.
Barleywines are perfect winter beers because of their sippably strong nature. There are certainly many more examples out there, especially from American breweries, but here are a handful of classics:
J. W. Lee’s Harvest Ale A glorious beer strictly in the manner of the grand old October beers, pure and simple. Nothing but the rare heirloom malt Maris Otter, plus East Kent Goldings hops, but there’s a world of complexity in every bottle. Ages very gracefully.
Thomas Hardy’s Ale Created by Eldridge Pope in 1968, this classic was inspired by a description of a fine aged Dorchester beer in one of Hardy’s novels, The Trumpet Major. When the Eldridge Pope brewery closed in 1999, it went out of production, a symptom of the woes surrounding Britain’s heritage breweries. However, it wasn’t that long ago that Hardy’s was universally hailed as the king of all cult beers. Deep in color, complex, and very long-lived, it seems to be back on the market again. Let’s hope that this time it will stick around long enough to assemble a proper vertical tasting in future years.
Anchor Old Foghorn Still regarded as the model of the style, Foghorn has a deep reddish amber color and a complex vinous aroma from several months aging at the brewery, with plenty of burnt sugar notes and a refined hop character.
Bigfoot Barleywine This is a brash American attack on the style from Sierra Nevada. Introduced in 1983, it features a toasted toffee malt character, slathered with fresh, citrus-floral American hops. The brewery philosophy is to use whole hops rather than pelletized; they claim cleaner, softer flavors are the result. This beer certainly delivers. While founder Ken Grossman and his crew generally prefer Bigfoot as fresh and in-your-face as possible, they admit the beer ages pleasantly, drying out, picking up sherrylike aged character and undergoing a softening of the hop bite.
An infallible way to amuse one’s friends in the depths of winter is to present a vertical tasting. This refers not to the position of the tasters, but rather to a flight of beers presented in a succession of years released, going vertically back in time. This requires the type of big beers so well suited to the winter season.
Not every beer will gracefully bear aging, but some hold up remarkably well. I once tasted a beer from 1938, which was 66 years old at the time. It was a fascinating ghost, but a younger beer in the same flight had borne its 46 years very gracefully. The old English books are full of references to “nut brown” and October beers aged for a decade or more that were still breathtakingly delicious. Even their standard versions were routinely aged for at least a year before the barrel was breached. An extra-strong beer called a double ale was brewed by a unique mashing method in which the same liquid was run through two successive mashes, effectively doubling up the malt — and therefore the alcohol. Such beers were sometimes called majority ales, as they were often brewed upon the birth of a son and not tapped until he was 21.
Aging your own beers requires a similarly long view, although great results can be had in much less time. First rule: Start with big beers. With the exception of lambics and some other sour beers that play by their own weird rules, it takes a lot of malt, hops, and alcohol to withstand the ravages of time. The lower limit is about 8% ABV, and if you’re thinking decades, over 10% ABV is a good place to start. Bottle-conditioned and other unfiltered beers age better, the yeast providing some oxygen-scavenging protection and adding layers of flavor, just as in a vintage Champagne. Beer ages better if it’s alive.
In temperate climates, a cellar works fine as a resting place. Seasonal swings are fine if you can keep the cellar from becoming too warm in the summer. Around 70°F (21°C) or below is a good target. Obviously, preventing the beer from freezing in the winter is mandatory. What your sleeping beer really does not like is frequent temperature swings, as they tend to disrupt the protein structure critical for body and head retention. Do what you can to insulate your cellar to keep the temperature as constant as you can. Another major enemy of aging beer is light, so keep it dark. Those living in warmer climates will have to resort to some specialized storage; many of my California beer buddies rent wine lockers in the climate-controlled facilities that are everywhere in that oenophilic state. Refrigeration is not recommended, as it slows down the aging to a crawl.
In general, beer should not be aged on its side. The only exception would be cork-sealed beers destined for five years or more of aging. In that case, storing a beer on its side keeps the cork hydrated and the bottle sealed. Once stored, leave them be. If you are a person of weak will, store the beer at a non-drinking relative’s house where you won’t be tempted. Think like a squirrel: Stash away beers in safe places whenever you can, and try to forget about them for a while.
Over time, a number of changes occur. Hops become much more subdued, losing as much as half their aroma and bitterness in the course of a year or so. In time, yeasty fruitiness will fade, and the perception of maltiness will increase as competing flavors diminish. The body will thin out, and over time the head retention and possibly carbonation will be reduced, as caps are not an absolutely gas-tight seal. A certain pleasant oxidized flavor I think of as a bit leathery will build, along, perhaps, with some sherry- or port-like nuttiness. After a decade or so, some autolyzed, soy sauce flavors will emerge from the failing yeast, and the beer may lose all carbonation and a good deal of color as well.
It’s a fascinating trip back through time, and you’ll notice changes between every vintage. Even beers brewed from identical recipes and stored under the same conditions will age differently from each other. Minor year-to-year variations in the barley-growing conditions are magnified during storage, reminding us that beer is an agricultural product.
Drink today and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do it tomorrow; Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.
—John Fletcher
What to age? Barleywine, of course, plus any other strong ale, imperial stout, or imperial anything, really. Belgian strong dark ales and other strong specialties sometimes change in appealing ways. Traditional lambics generally have a whole community of microflora in the bottle, so they will continue to evolve in the bottle, becoming more complex, drier, and acidic over time. Beers bottled with the wild yeast Brettanomyces, such as the famous Trappist beer Orval, will develop barnyard aromas and maybe a pineapple fruitiness as they age over the course of a few years. With the possible exception of eisbocks, don’t bother with lagers, as they’re generally aged to perfection before leaving the brewery and don’t further develop after packaging.
Vertical tasting is a great group activity for obvious reasons, not the least of which is the challenge of drinking several bottles of strong beer in a single session. It is helpful to spread the cost around as well, since age-worthy beers are not cheap. A beer vertical tasting can be tremendously educational and a very special beer experience. Don’t forget to take notes.
Vertical tastings of different years are fun but require a little pre-planning.
Hosted by the Brugse Autonome Bierproevers, the Bruges, Belgium, tasters’ society, this fest features more than 70 Belgian brewers and a bewildering variety of delicious Belgian beers. Bruges is like a beer Disneyland anyway; this event turns it into a glorious paradise for a couple of days. The first weekend of February.
This stalwart craft beer bar in San Francisco hosts one of the longest-running events dedicated to these strong and luscious ales. Festgoers crowd into the cozy bar to sample more than 50 draft barleywines. It’s the one can’t-miss event of San Francisco Beer Week. Near the end of the month.
Manchester, United Kingdom (has also been celebrated in Glasgow and Burton-on-Trent). Third weekend.
Sort of like a beer festival, but really it’s the all-Italy bar and nightclub trade show, as there are a ton of booths representing Italy’s exciting new beer scene. Rimini (a beach town on the Adriatic), in February.
Winterfest, Minnesota Craft Brewers Guild, St. Paul, Minnesota; Buffalo Winter BrewFest, Buffalo, New York; International Great Beer Expo New Jersey, Secaucus, New Jersey; Rhode Island Brew Fest, Pawtucket, Rhode Island; Winter Beer Carnival, Atlanta, Georgia; Cincy Winter Beerfest, Cincinnati, Ohio; Zwickelmania (Oregon Brewers Guild presents brewery open houses), in various locations across Oregon; Philly Bierfest, German Society of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Adelaide Schuetzenfest, Australia; Elmar’s Food & Beer Festival, Perth, Australia
A worldwide (well, U.S. mostly) celebration of this ancient unhopped beer.
Champagne always seems like such a waste on New Year’s Eve. Celebratory as it is, it’s really much better as an aperitif, best served to wake up everyone’s palate at the beginning of an evening, not to cap off a night of eating and drinking. A special beer might convey the correct jubilant mood, but do it in a way that cuts through the gastronomic clutter of a long session. Here are a few of my favorites.
Méthode Champenoise Beers If you want to preserve that classic bubbly experience, these might be the ticket. There are just a few of them, and they are crazy expensive, but beers such as Bosteels Deus (Belgium) and Eisenbahn Lust (Brazil) offer a beery interpretation of the sparkling wine experience: crisp, dry, elegant, ghostly pale, and highly effervescent. And hey, it’s only once a year.
Double IPA Of course you gotta love hops, but there is no doubt that these beers will punch through anything the winter can offer. Brisk, bracing, intense, and above all bitter, these will start the year off for you with a bang. Firestone Walker’s Double Jack is very elegant; Dogfish Head 90 Minute has a touch of sweetness.
Flemish Sour Red and Brown Ales With their complex, oak-tinged aromas, crisp acidity, and slight sweetness, these beers are every bit as elegant and celebratory as Champagne. Typically blended from fresh beer mixed with a smaller amount of oak-aged sour beer, they offer luminous ruby hues and luscious yet refreshing flavors. The sourness varies from super-tangy to just a hint; some offer vinegary notes as well. Reds and browns come from slightly different regions of Flanders. The reds are perhaps a little more sharp and wine-like, while the browns are a bit more beery and creamy and maybe a bit earthier as well, but it’s all a big happy family. Delicious cherry-spiked versions are made with both types.
Kriek Lambic These Belgian classic wild/sour beers have cherries added. Classic production dictates that the cherries, pits and all, are added to the barrel and left there until the flesh melts away and the beer develops a nice cherry fruitiness with the almond/kirsch aroma of the pits. Many breweries cheat a little these days, and while those beers can be enjoyable, the classics have a lot more character. To my taste, the 3 Fonteinen Oude Schaarbeekse Kriek, with its traditional heirloom cherries, is the king of the heap. If you forget to open it on the Eve, you can always have it for brunch the next day. Yummy.
Eisbock: The Monster Lager If there’s a lager beer made just for subzero weather, this is the one. Smooth, malty, even syrupy in texture, and high in alcohol, it drinks like a liquid dessert. The term eisbock refers to a process in which the beer is frozen and the ice crystals that form are filtered out, concentrating the alcohol and everything else that’s left behind. Historically associated with the German city of Kulmback, it’s a German specialty, typically in the amber-to-brown bock style, lightly hopped, and starting at about 10% ABV but sometimes far exceeding that. The Scottish craft brewery Brew Dog pushed the style further in its battle with German brewery Scorschbräu for the title of world’s strongest beer: starting with Tactical Nuclear Penguin (32% ABV), firing back with Sink the Bismark (41% ABV), and ending on a bombshell with the appropriately named End of History (55% ABV), bottled in an extremely limited edition of taxidermy-encased bottles using the corpses of weasels, squirrels, and assorted small mammals.
Most eisbocks are much less histrionic. Look for beers such as G’frorns from Reichelbräu and the deliciously cake-like Adventinus Weizeneisbock from Schneider Weisse. Outside the occasional keg of “accidental” eisbock from a brewpub or homebrewer, there are few of them packaged in the United States, as the government considers the freeze-concentrating process to be distilling and won’t allow its use in brewing. “Ice” beers from mass-market brewers do have ice removed, but water is then added back to restore the original alcohol content, achieving little but a marketing boast.
February 14 is a sommelier’s worst nightmare: crowds of wine amateurs, advancing like zombies out of their suburban lairs, moaning, “Chocolate . . . Champagne!” In addition to wrecking the chocolate, this pairing turns a lovely and sophisticated sparkling wine into a screechy mouthful of virtual pickle juice. Beer to the rescue.
Because the malts that go into beer are kilned in ways that allow it to resemble chocolate or its natural companions — nuts, caramel, and dried fruits — it’s easy to find great matches for Cupid’s special date night. The rule about matching food and beer intensity applies here, and since chocolate is a powerful flavor on the palate, we’ll need some fairly intense beers to go with it.
The chocolate and beer ladder at right will give you a general idea of what kind of beer might go with what kind of chocolate, but this is just a starting point. There’s nothing wrong with purely chocolate flavors, but a bounty of other flavors can link specific beers with a compatible dish.
Consider a Belgian dubbel with its deep dried fruit notes served with chocolate-covered raisins or some fancier dish with similar flavors. Or maybe an English-style barleywine with its deep layers of caramel and toffee with a chocolate-bottomed pecan pie or caramel nut tart.
Don’t forget about white chocolate. It can open up to a range of delicately flavored beers such as Belgian tripels or strong amber ales that would be clobbered by dark chocolate. With this combination, it’s possible to incorporate fruits such as passion fruit or peaches, as well as lighter caramel or cooked sugar notes — think white chocolate and passion fruit crème brûlée or coconut and white chocolate cream pie.
As you move up the intensity scale on the chocolate side, you need to do the same with the beers. While pure chocolate bars are the ultimate in intense chocolate sensation, I find that because they take time to melt in your mouth, the beer is gone by then, whereas the lower melting point of chocolate truffles actually delivers a more intense chocolate blast on the palate. Of course, with truffles it’s easy to incorporate all manner of twisted additional flavors, from ground chile to curry powder to chanterelles and beyond.
If you’re an old married couple for whom Valentine’s Day no longer crackles with electricity as it once did, a couple of big glasses of a rich, creamy porter and a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies is a great relationship builder in the most comfortable way.
Customize your truffles. Take any basic truffle recipe and roll in crushed malts such as crystal, brown, or black, or in very finely sieved powdered hops pellets.
Tropical Export Stout It’s amazing that a beer can be equally at ease whether you’re frolicking on the beach in Jamaica or huddled by the fireplace, trapped by the blizzard raging outside. The style is essentially a goosed-up Irish stout, dry and espressolike, with a bit of sweetness and a long, bitter espresso finish. Guinness Foreign Extra, first brewed in 1801, is the original, but Jamaica’s Dragon Stout from Desnoes & Geddes has entrenched itself in the Caribbean over the past century. In Asia, Lion Stout occupies a similar role.
Belgian Strong Golden Ale Clean and hushed as a fresh snowfall, these deceptively strong blond beers can put Jack Frost in his place as convincingly as anything dark and heavy. Pure pilsner malt lends a clean, bright, bready flavor that’s balanced by modest hopping, made more drinkable by the addition of sugar, and elegantly aromatized by a fruity Belgian yeast. The widely available Duvel is the gold standard, but there are bunches of them on the market these days. The closely related abbey tripel style may offer a little more honeyed depth.
Dark Mild Ale While great examples are still elusive, these roasty yet light-bodied beers are getting better as well as easier to come by. They are aromatically malty and dry on the palate for superb drinkability, and I guess you could call them excellent snow-shoveling beers.
Nut Beers Maybe it’s just because my dad always had his bowl of nuts at his side, industriously cracking and picking the meats out, that I associate them with the winter holidays. Most nut beers suit the season, being strong, sweet, and indulgently rich. Rogue’s Hazelnut Brown Nectar is the widely available standard-bearer. Look for Perennial’s Black Walnut Dunkel and Lazy Magnolia’s Southern Pecan, and for a hit of the exotic, try Cervejaria Colorado’s Berthô, a Brazil nut brown ale from Brazil.
Scotch Ale These strong, sweet, and super-malty beers seemed to have originated with similar beers first made famous in Burton-on-Trent, England. Whatever the history, they are as pure and malty as beer gets, with the barest minimum of hops way in the background for balance. Try one with sticky toffee pudding, the national dessert of Scotland.
Strong Witbiers and White IPAs These two closely related styles are recent inventions of the U.S. craft beer scene. Based on classic witbier recipes with wheat-and-oats creaminess, these both ramp up the gravity and alcohol. White IPAs take the next logical step and toss in a load of hops as well.
Polish Coffee Baltic porter (the stronger the better), enlivened with coffee liqueur such as Kahlúa, topped with whipped cream. Serve cold, in small glasses.
Head-Bobber Two parts Belgian amber such as Kwak, Barbär, or Atomium, one part hard cider, plus a splash of bauern obstler (unaged apple-pear brandy) or German brandy. Garnish with a cinnamon stick and/or cubed apple pieces on a skewer. Serve cold or warm.
Hop Toddy Double IPA with a dab of bourbon, a couple of teaspoons of honey, and a squeeze of lemon, plus half a dozen barely crushed juniper berries. Gently warm, and serve with a garnish of dried apricot.
The trees have budded out. A few wretched songbirds have migrated a little too early; the snow is at its blackest and sloppiest. It does seem about this time that winter is endless. But the signs of spring are there. Eventually, things will improve.
What to drink? To continue with those dark, fruitcakey winter beers at this moment seems like an admission of defeat. Something more optimistic is called for.
Alaskan Winter Ale Okay, the name is wintery, but the flavor is anything but. Inspired by research into Alaska’s earliest brewing days and local tradition, founder Geoff Larson became intrigued by spruce tips, a nutrient-rich food resource long utilized by native peoples and occasionally incorporated into beer in pioneer days. Instead of the piney flavors expected, spruce tips add a deep dried fruit aroma with a slight spice. Plucked from the budding trees, this beer is quite literally the taste of spring.
Capital Blonde Doppelbock This well-established brewery near Madison, Wisconsin, focuses on lagers, with its most stellar products being fine seasonal bocks. This is among the strongest. Purely malty balanced with a light touch of hops, all wrapped up in the pure, clean flavors of a lager.
Ayinger Weizenbock While most in this style are a deep amber color and have a decided cake-like aroma, this one is a surprising blond color with a mellow, slightly caramelized ripe banana aroma and just a hint of spice. At 7.1% ABV, it’s sturdy enough, but not overwhelming. Drink it outside, even if you have to wear a hat.
Famous for its vast Oktoberfest, Munich hosts a lesser known and much more intimate beer festival in early spring: Starkbierfest. Stark simply means “strong” in German, so we’re talking about bock beers here, strong members of the lager family. Many Münchners consider Starkbierzeit (“strong beer time”) to be a fifth season, meant for cutting loose a little as spring approaches.
Events take place at breweries and beer halls all around Munich during the first two weeks of March, but the epicenter is the Paulaner Nockherberg Brewery, on the south side of town. With room for 2,500 revelers in its fest hall, there’s plenty of fun to be had, especially with 7.5% ABV Salvator being served in 1-liter stoneware mugs — hoo-boy! As with Oktoberfest, reservations for tables are recommended for larger groups.
A real ale festival organized by the Chicago Beer Society, the oldest beer appreciation society in the United States. The attraction is a wide range of American craft beers of all styles served on cask, most of which are unavailable in real ale form at any other time or place. Two sessions; typically the first Saturday in March.
A charity benefit event in the typical festival mode, This features local as well as international beers. Tempe, Arizona; first weekend of the month.
Extreme Beer Fest (EBF) at the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston, Massachusetts (Third weekend); New England Real Ale eXhibition (NERAX), North America’s premier celebration of real ale, Boston, Massachusetts
This Irish-American extravaganza has a reputation for being a real amateur’s day, so caution is advised. A little pubbing around can be fun, but avoid the green beer and stick to the stout.
Writer Jackson was known as the “Bard of Beer,” but this moniker barely hints at his various roles as enlightener, muse, poet, cheerleader, and steadfast friend of good beer wherever he found it. Hoist a toast with those you care about.
