Beer O'Clock: Vintages

A couple of things are happening here that are uncommon for The Brown Knowser.

Number One: I'm writing a beer blog on a Monday, instead of a Thursday.

Number Two: this post isn't really about the beer.

Number Three: I was (am) quite drunk when I wrote this post. Not only did I consume several bottles of beer with a high alcohol content, but also some 21-year-old rum and some orange-cream-flavoured vodka.

I don't drink to excess often, nor do I recommend it. And I won't do it any time soon.

(I'm going to re-read this post on Monday, after it's published, because I closed my eyes a lot while typing.)

In mid to late 2020, I purchased several bottles of vintage ale from a pub in Toronto. It was the initial height of the pandemic, when most stores, bars, and restaurants closed up their doors. This particular pub, which specialized in rare and hard-to-find brews, was looking to sell off various beer that it was in excess of, and was offering vintage ales for a generous price.

I purchased eight bottles of vintage ale, from 2008 to 2016, and stashed them in my basement until I could find a good time to consume them. Because they were vintage ales—brews with higher alcohol content, designed to be storable for many years—I knew that they would be fine in my basement, as long as they were stored in a place with a constant temperature.

There's a corner of my basement that is perfect for storing beer and wine.

I promised an old and very dear friend, Marc, that I would share this beer with him and his wonderful wife, Bee, when we could get together. Today is a holiday in Ontario and is also Marc's birthday (have a great one, my BFAM!), so yesterday—Sunday—was a perfect day to crack them open.

Eight bottles, from 2008 to 2016, minus 2014.

In many ways, a vintage ale is much like barley wine, a beer that is brewed with a higher alcohol level and good hops that will age well, generally 10 years or longer. One of the kings of a vintage ale is South London brewery, Fuller's, which goes back all the way to 1845, and has been producing this style of beer since 1997. (I've also loved their London Pride and London Porter.)

I'm not going to get into details about each sample of these bottles. But let's just say that each was similar in that they had a caramel aroma, mixed with aged wood—sometimes, the aroma was of an oak barrel; other times, cedar. In the 2011, I detected a bouquet of concord grape juice: in the 2012, a slight flaw of acetone, which was discernable but didn't ruin the ale.

Another held distinct flavours of plums and figs, and I could have consumed all day.

The final two bottles, from 2015 and 2016, could have lain in my basement for a few more years but were simple and uncomplicated.

(Can I open my eyes now? Are there any typos?)

The 2008 bottle contained no fizz but still had good structure and flavours. The 2016 was effervescent yet somewhat closed. There wasn't a truly bad bottle in the bunch.

At 8.5 percent ABV per bottle, these ales were profoundly felt. I'm fortunate that Marc, Bee, and DW were there to help me get through them. Yet, while these ales were hot, it didn't help that Marc shared a 21-year-old rum and some flavoured cream vodka (which I loved and must seek out more).

So here I sit, a few hours after consuming far more alcohol in one sitting than I should have, but spending time with friends who I love deeply. Writing a beer post on a day that is not a Thursday. Talking about beer that is not easily accessible.

Forgive me?

Thanks to Bee and Marc for a perfectly wonderful afternoon. Though, the next time we get together, let's stick to only one or two drinks, shall we?

Happy Monday! And Happy Birthday, Marc!