Beer O'Clock: A Glass of PP

Many years ago—decades, actually—I would walk into a Glebe pub and if one of the owners, Rose, was behind the bar, I would greet her and then say, "A pint of PP, please."

Rose knew what I meant and she'd reach for a clean pint glass and go to a tap that had a picture of a black Labrador on it. Around the picture was the proper name of the porter that flowed into the glass: Scotch-Irish Brewing Company Black Irish Porter.

But I affectionately referred to the beer as PP—Perry's Porter. Perry, the owner of the brewery and brewmaster (and very good friend of mine), came up with the nickname at its release party, at the Arrow & Loon Pub (though, when he said it, he used a bit of a French accent and made it sound like he was saying "pee-pee"). Rose and Paul, the original owners of this now-gone establishment, became friends with Perry just before he started his brewery and just before they opened the pub, and they were the first pub in Ottawa to serve Perry's beer.

They automatically put any of his releases on rotation and they always sold out.

Perry's third release was his Irish-styled porter, following on the success of his session ale and IPA, and followed by a cask-conditioned ale that was hand-drawn and served at room temperature.

And I'll never forget Perry's 2005 Imperial Stout, which he said would hold up for 10 years, assuming that people kept it that long. I wrote about it a few times: when it was six years old,  at the beginning of 2015, when the brew was still pouring well, and in December of 2015, when the beer reached its tenth anniversary, proving that Perry hadn't lied about the stout's longevity.

(I had my final bottles of Tsarina Katarina 2005 Imperial Stout a couple of years later and while there was no fizz left, the flavours were still sound.)

Perry's brewery is long-gone, having sold the business to Ottawa's Heritage Brewery, which in turn was bought up by what is now Kichesippi Beer Company. None of Perry's recipes survived the transfer and that was purely Kichesippi's loss in retiring them.

And though Perry is out of the beer industry, he has never stopped making beer, though he only makes small batches for himself, nowadays. Until this past weekend, that is.

In addition to being a great beer maker, Perry also has a great singing voice, and he has joined my other friends, DW, and me for a few karaoke nights. Last Saturday, he was out with us again at Bistro-Bar l'Original, in the Hull sector of Gatineau.

"Don't let me forget that I have some beer for you in the trunk of my car," he said as we sat down. "It's a cask-conditioned version of my porter."

I was immediately excited. I loved PP and missed it over the decades since I last had a bottle, which I had picked up at my friendly neighbourhood LCBO. It was the Irish-styled porter by which I've measured every dry porter I've come across.

And I was excited to try a cask-conditioned version.

"Just remember that there'll be sediment at the bottom of the bottle, so you won't want to pour it all out into your glass," he said, as he handed me an 8-pack at the end of the night, "unless you like pooping a lot."

I poured my first glass a couple of days ago and here are my thoughts. I hope I don't sound like I'm rubbing in the fact that this beer is not for sale anywhere, and that if I share any of it, it'll be with a special friend or my father, who also loves dark ales.

Here goes:

Cask-Conditioned Porter (5.3% ABV; 40 IBUs)
Perry Mason (formerly, Scotch-Irish Brewing Company)
Ottawa ON

Appearance: pours a dark, walnut brown with a fizzy, taupe head that quickly settles to a fine lace. Bubbles cling to the inside of the glass but dissipate, and the beer turns less fizzy to flattish by the time you reach the bottom of the glass. And when I reached the bottom of my glass, I noticed only the slightest traces of a greyish, silty sediment (I had left about a teaspoon or so of beer in the bottle when I poured, and even at that, I didn't see much sediment when I looked into the bottom of the bottle).

Nose: cocoa and a touch of prunes.

Palate: rich espresso and cocoa, paired with tobacco and prunes. There's a bit of alcohol that swirls around in the mouth but doesn't steal the show; rather, it holds everything together in a lingering finish.

Overall impression: Perry has never made a beer that I didn't like, and I don't think I'm being biased because he's a good friend. There was one time, when he invited me to join him for Volo Cask Days in Toronto, and he had submitted a firkin of a pumpkin ale. After setting up and tapping the mini keg, he poured us each a sample.

It was awful and I told him so. He agreed but suggested that we let the firkin settle, as it had just come from the car after the four-and-a-half-hour drive. We had a few hours before the event started, so we went to grab a meal and wander this Toronto neighbourhood.

When the festival started, we tried the ale again and it had completely transformed into one of the best pumpkin ales I've ever had the good fortune to try. And many people at the festival agreed, as it was voted the best pumpkin ale of the show and outpoured all other pumpkin ales by three to one.

I love a good porter and Perry makes a great one. Even though it loses its effervescence before you finish your glass, the flavours make you not care about bubbles. Everything else comes together and goes down easily.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺🍺

Cask-conditioned beer doesn't have a long shelf life so I'll likely finish the rest of Perry's porter over the next week or so. I'd like to save a couple of the bottles, to take to Toronto to share with a good friend, who I'm meeting in early May. I think the bottles should last and I'm hopeful that they handle the trip to Toronto well.

Cheers!

Beer O'Clock: Losing Sight of IPAs

I initially planned to make this rant for my Brown Knowser YouTube channel, but I didn't think anyone would want to watch a middle-aged man (almost senior) ramble on about beer without actually reviewing one. Though, I will touch on the subject in an upcoming Beer O'Clock review and I may have more to say in further reviews.

The first India Pale Ale (IPA) that I drank was in The Olde Angel Inn, in Niagara-on-the-Lake, about 25 years ago. My good friend and future brewmaster, Perry Mason, and I were enjoying some beer after a day of volunteering at a wine event—it was our mutual love of wine that brought us together, a couple of years earlier, but beer had been a passion of Perry's for decades before then. Perry ordered beer for both of us, because I knew nothing beyond the pedestrian Labatt's and Molson brews, and they are what had me turn to wine in the first place.

Perry started us off with an English bitter but we then moved on to an IPA. An IPA, Perry said, is what you drink when you don't plan to go to any other style. The bitter hops, he said, will kill your tastebuds for anything else: the same principle as drinking a meaty red shiraz after a gewürztraminer. You'd never be able to taste the fruity white wine.

Perry explained to me that an IPA was developed in the 1700s as a way to preserve a beer in order to survive the long voyage from the UK to the colonies in India. Though the colour is a deep amber or copper, it was paler than stouts and porters.

It was the hops that preserved the beer, Perry explained, and it was also the hops that gave an IPA its bitterness, and its pine and grapefruit-like flavour.

Years later, when Perry created his own microbrewery, the Scotch-Irish Brewing Company, he started with his favourite British-styled ale, a session ale, and then later made his Sgt. Major IPA. It was a huge success for the brewery and became the benchmark for all future IPAs that I've consumed.

Tasty, but not an IPA.

Fast-forward to today, when just about every hopped-up beer is tagged with the famous initials. We have West Coast IPAs; East Coast IPAs; North East IPAs; New England IPAs; session IPAs; black IPAs; milkshake IPAs.

I'm waiting for the day that someone advertises a lagered IPA, and that's when I'll lose it.

IPAs now range in colour, from the traditional, clear copper-amber to hazy, unfiltered versions. There are cloudy versions that look like orange juice. There are IPAs that, mixed with blueberries, have a purple hue. There are cola-coloured IPAs.

The 'pale' element in IPA doesn't seem to fit.

Terms like 'West Coast,' 'East Coast,' and 'New England' make me wonder how India fits into the equation.

Don't get me wrong: I love the flavour profiles of these ales. The tropical aromas and ripe fruity flavours have me craving more. I enjoy the espresso notes of the black ales. I have ordered more of these beers for home delivery, since the pandemic, than any other style of beer.

But they are not IPAs. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I'm sure that they are ales, brewed at room temperature, but the A in IPA is the only thing that these creations can boast. Depending on their colour, they can sometimes claim to be pale. Blueberry and black IPAs aren't pale.

Unfiltered, but otherwise classic.

It's getting to a point that I roll my eyes every time I see a new release from a brewery with IPA stamped on the label. A few months ago, when I ordered an IPA from a west-end brewery, I was pleasantly surprised when I poured a clear, amber ale into my glass and was met by pine and grapefruit rind. It was a classic English IPA.

I shouldn't be surprised this way. I should be surprised when I pour something that is labelled an IPA but looks and tastes like a creamsicle.

(Again, I love ales with added lactose, so I'm not bashing the brews themselves.)

I have an appeal to brewers: please stop calling your creations an IPA if it's not an IPA. Just stop.

Take the I out, at the very least. Leave India out of it. If your ale is hazy, don't call it a pale ale. Call it a 'haze ale' or 'cloud ale.' And, if your ale is black, call it 'black ale' or 'dark ale.' Black and pale are very different.

I'm not one for overregulation, but there needs to be clear distinctions in the styles of beer that we all enjoy. Germany has its clarity law. A sparkling wine cannot be called 'champagne' unless it comes from that French region.

When you make a hoppy beer and call it an IPA, it should resemble that iconic, 18th-century style. I should be able to see IPA on a can and not be surprised when I open it up and pour the contents into my glass.

Because as soon as you call everything an IPA, nothing is an IPA.

Beer O'Clock: Full Time IPA

It took me a long time to find this stuff.

Late spring, when Beau's announced that they were releasing a west-coast style IPA, I was all excited. I first discovered West-Coast IPA just over a year ago, when Mill Street launched their fruity, hoppy delight. I loved the lush, tropical-fruit flavours backing up one of my favourite styles of ale, and I couldn't get enough of it.

Since then, I've tried a handful of this trending brew and haven't been disappointed by any of them.

(Okay, one made me turn my nose up: but it was filtered crystal-clear, and I was used to seeing the cloudy, murky body from so many other brewers. It still tasted as I expected.)

So when Beau's announced that they were releasing their own version of a West-Coast IPA, I was like a boy anticipating his date at a prom^*. But could I find it? No.

I first went to my local LCBO, but they hadn't stocked it, yet. I then drove to my next-closest store, but again, they had none on their shelves. In Kanata, I found some but it was packaged with three other brews: one, a Lug Tread.

I have no use for Lug Tread.

Every other store I tried was either sold out or offered it in the four-pack. And, for a while, I gave up. If I was in an LCBO, I'd look for it. What would be, would be.

It wasn't until last week, after being away from my Barrhaven LCBO for more than a month, that I found a couple of bottles on the shelf. I snatched them up immediately.

I had my first bottle on Saturday, at a friend's 70th birthday party. I filled a pint glass for myself (it comes in a 600ml bottle) and shared the rest with my long-time friend and brewmaster extraordinaire, Perry Mason (he wasn't the guy turning 70: that friend makes some of the best wine anywhere, but that's another story).

We both enjoyed the ale (Perry's comment was, "it's not bad"), but I knew that I needed to sit down, alone, and focus on all aspects of the beer to truly review it. Which is where I'll now go.

Full Time IPA (6.7% ABV)
Beau's All Natural Brewing Company
Vankleek Hill, ON

Appearance: partially filtered, amber-orange with a creamy, off-white head that settles to a full lace.

Nose: bitter orange.

Palate: hops hit first, followed by tropical notes of mango, orange rind, and a flinty, black-pepper and pine finish.

Overall impression: while this is not my favourite west-coast style IPA, its name says it all: this is a full-time IPA that spends its part time on the west coast. It's a solid IPA for the serious IPA connoisseur, packed with all kinds of flavour to treat your palate.

Beer O'Clock rating: 4 

My friend may have said that Full Time is "not bad," but that does mean it's good. For me, it's very good, and if you like full-bodied IPAs with a kick of extra flavour or you already enjoy a good west-coast style IPA, this beer's for you.

It may have taken me all summer to find a bottle of this stuff, but Full Time IPA is worth the wait.

Cheers!


^* In my day, we didn't use the word prom—that was American. We called the end-of-high-school dance a grad.

Beer O'Clock Returns

It's my off-again, on-again blog.

I love beer. I know: it's no surprise for many of you. Ever since my friend, Perry Mason, introduced me to craft beer at The Olde Angel Inn, in Niagara-on-the-Lake, and later, at Ottawa's Arrow & Loon, and later still, when he started his own microbrewery and let me work with him at various food and beverage events.

To this day, I can't drink a new brew and wonder what Perry would think of that beer.

When I first decided to review beer, on The Brown Knowser, one of Perry's vintage imperial stouts was the first pick for a post. I reviewed it a couple more times before the ale finally breathed its last, 10 years after my friend had bottled it.

As I wrote more reviews, I made a decision to create a separate blog, Beer O'Clock. My intention was to write at least one review each week, sharing my observations and opinions on a new beer that I had tried during that week. At first, I was eager, some months writing more than one post a week: in March of 2013, I actually published 11 posts.

But as time went on, I found that Beer O'Clock became less like a fun thing to do and more like work. I was invited by local breweries to try new releases. I was invited to beer events, sometimes hired to photograph and cover them.

I enjoyed tasting the offered samples, had fun at the events. But when it came to sitting down and writing about them, I felt the pressure of giving what I thought other people wanted to read, not what I decided to say or not say.

I've taken a few breaks and have even made a decision to stop the blog, one that I changed and returned to after several months absence.

These days, my beer reviews are sporadic, popping up whenever the mood strikes me. Sometimes, I think I'm going to write a review, only to change my mind. Other times, I try a beer that gets me excited, and I think that I should review it for my blog. But I don't.

I've watched the viewership steadily dwindle at Beer O'Clock, as it should. Readers want a steady, reliable feed. I get that.

And so, today will be the last Beer O'Clock blog post. I'm wrapping up work on that blog, closing the book. But Beer O'Clock will not go away.

My readership on The Brown Knowser has exploded over the past couple of months, and I know that if I want to write a beer review, I have plenty of space here. I will try to write a review once a month, but I'm not going to keep a tight schedule. Perhaps I'll write more; perhaps, fewer.

I would like to try to do more video reviews: the post I made in January had some good feedback, but because my numbers on the blog were shrinking, it's hard to tell if that format for my reviews is a good one. Also, the video was much longer than I wanted—nearly 20 minutes—and I want to keep the videos to less than five minutes.

I'll try another one soon.

Beer O'Clock returns to The Brown Knowser in May. Cheers to that!

Photo Friday: Light Bright

I always think that historic buildings should be lit up at night. Sadly, not all of them are.

I pass this old school on Slack Road from time to time, and I often think that if I ever won millions of dollars, I might buy this building and turn it into a brewery. I'd call it Old School Brew House. I'd ask my good friend and brewer extraordinaire, Perry, to let his imagination soar.

Assuming he would be interested in working with me. (Oh, the arse jokes would fly!)

I have no idea who is using this building now, but I do feel it should be lit at night.

Until then, if I want to capture it, I'll have to rely on my car headlights. On a snowy night, they'll do in a pinch.

Happy Friday!

In Search of the Great Pumpkin Ale, Part 3

Yes, my beer review is one day late, but I decided that because it was a holiday there was a good chance that many of you wouldn't be spending your free time in front of a screen. Also, I got home too late and too tired on Sunday, after spending some time in nature, capturing the colours of the autumn leaves, and with family, stuffing our faces, to sit down and bang out a beer review.

If you get a chance, get out soon to enjoy the colours of fall. The Gatineau Hills to the north of Ottawa have exploded in vibrant colours of red, yellow, and orange. This week's Wordless Wednesday will showcase some of the images I captured this weekend.

But I also took the time to enjoy two more pumpkin ales while I absorbed the beauty of the changing leaves in the Gatineaus.

This weekend, being both the Thanksgiving weekend in Canada and with Columbus Day in the United States, I went for a Canadian offering and an American one. And in drinking these seasonal brews, I only had one regret.

That I didn't buy more.

This week's selections are Beau's All Natural Weiss O'Lantern Pumpkin Weiss and Southern Tier Imperial Pumking Beer. I started with Beau's.

Beau's, for me, is a hit-and-miss brewery. I like some of their beer; I dislike others. When Beau's creates something truly special, I want to stock up. Their Bog Water, Festivale, and Beaver River IPA come to mind. Sometimes, they seemingly try too hard (I'm thinking of Mr. Hyde) and for me, it's too much. And, I'm sorry to say, I don't like their flagship brew, Lug Tread (I respect it; I just don't appreciate it).

Their Weiss O'Lantern (LCBO: $7.85/600 ml; 5.6% ABV), I'm happy to say, firmly hits the mark for me. A golden-yellow glow with a hint of orange and a lush-white foamy head catches your eye. Like most weiss-styled wheat ales, there is the murkiness of little filtration. As a result, the light that enters the glass seems to remain captured within.

On the nose, I was immediately hit with intense banana. This is only the third time that I've noticed this fruit in a beer, and it tells me one thing: this beer is going to be good. In the nose, there are also hints of spice, which comes through more clearly on the palate.

In the mouth, I was met with warm clove spice and pumpkin flavour. This is a full-bodied, but not heavy, wheat ale. The fresh yeast comes through in the finish and leaves a beautiful, clean aftertaste.

Sadly, I only picked up two bottles on Saturday. I tend not to purchase more than two bottles of an unknown entity: I buy a second just in case there's something wrong with the first, but I don't buy more just in case I don't like the beer and am then stuck with it. And with my experience with Beau's, my opinion could have gone either way.

I'm happy to say that this seasonal is something I would be happy to drink year-round. It's flavourful, it's refreshing, and it's a hit with me. I am going to hit the liquor store in the next day or two to track down more of this excellent pumpkin ale.

The second selection for this week is a friend of mine from last year. I first experienced Southern Tier's Imperial Pumking Ale (LCBO: $8.95/650 ml; 8.6% ABV) over the Thanksgiving weekend one year ago, and it blew my mind. It was the most-intense pumpkin ale I had ever had, including Perry's Atomic Pumpkin Ale, which I had a couple of years ago at the Volo Cask Days. That cask-conditioned ale, made by my friend, Perry Mason, was pumpkin pie in a glass.

Pumking is pumpkin pie in a glass, followed by a kick in the head. It's massive, eye-opening stuff.

Rich bronze-orange and red in colour, the white foamy head dissipates rather quickly. It's clear, so filtering is well-performed.

On the nose, you are immediately hit with an intense sweetness, like honey, and a warm aroma of fresh-baked banana-nut loaf (my youngest daughter, who loves beer—particularly stouts—picked up the banana bread first; I got the nuts). Some pumpkin fruit also comes through in the nose, but the sweetness overpowers it.

On the palate, there is a big maltiness with spices, sweet honey, and pumpkin. This is not so much a beverage as it is a dessert. Someone at Southern Tier has a sweet tooth: their Crème Brulée Stout is so sweet that I have to share a bottle with at least two other people.

Pumking has a creamy finish and staying power. Hours after finishing my glass, I could still taste it. The day after, I could still recall the flavours.

When I started collecting bottles of pumpkin ale for reviewing, Pumking was at the top of my list. I wanted to have it as the star of my reviews. But as I've tried more and more of these seasonals, Pumking is facing a lot of stiff competition. After tasting the two beers this weekend, I found myself craving more of the Beau's. Perhaps that craving stemmed from the fact that I was out of it, whereas I stocked up on plenty of Pumking—enough to last me the season. But I know that this Thanksgiving, I was thankful that I drank two awesome pumpkin ales.

Beer O'Clock: In Search of the Great Pumpkin Ale, Part 2

This is so much fun.

Pumpkin ale is still coming out and I'm still collecting. And I'm loving finally getting to it, trying new ales that I never had before, becoming reacquainted with some that I haven't had since last year—this time, paying closer attention and taking notes.

This week, I looked at three ales: two from Toronto and one from the Ottawa area.

The first beer is one that I tried a couple of times: the first time, at the brewery; the second time, at this weekend's Oktoberfest Ottawa... um... fest.

Ashton Brewing Company opened only a year ago, and already they're making great brews. I first tried their brown ale at the National Capital Craft Beer Week, and since then I've tried their blueberry wheat ale, their vanilla bean stout, and now their pumpkin ale (5% ABV).

From the moment you see it, you know that this is no ordinary pumpkin ale. Bright, golden-yellow in colour with a white foamy head, this ale looks more like a summer weiss than an autumn pumpkin. The cloudiness tells you right away that it's unfiltered.

What also grabbed me when I first smelled it was the intense fruit aromas: primarily, banana, but with traces of pear. I held the pint glass to my nose for at least five minutes before I took my first sip. I would have held this pose for longer, but my friend was already tasting his pint, making sounds of approval, and looking at me to get into it.

I could drink this ale all day long. On the palate, there are wonderful tones of spice and generous flavours of fruit. I detected pineapple with the pumpkin. And the finish lingered, allowing me to savour the flavour.

Awesome stuff.

The one downside to this pumpkin ale (known as Lederhoser Pumpkin Ale at Oktoberfest Ottawa) is that it is available in very limited quantities. It is on tap at the Old Mill at Ashton English Style Pub and other pubs in Ottawa (go to Ashton Brew Company's site for more information). It sold out early at this weekend's festival, so I don't expect it to stick around in the city. You can also buy growlers at ABC.

Another great pumpkin ale gets right into the Hallowe'en spirit. Mill Street offers its Nightmare on Mill Street Pumpkin Ale (5% ABV) in a seasonal pack that also includes an Oktoberfest ale. I'm not reviewing that beer here.

Nightmare pours a clear copper brown to brick colour with a tan foam head that dissipates quickly after a lively effervescence. There were lots of large bubbles with the initial pour, but they settled down to almost nothing. I have also had the draft version of this pumpkin ale at the Mill Street Brew Pub. The carbonation is greater from the keg and the head changes to a nice lace top. There are other differences that I'll outline as I go.

On the nose, Nightmare presents toasty spices with fleshy fruit. This is pumpkin pie in a glass. In the mouth, I immediately taste caramel and true pumpkin-pie flavours. The keg version seems less sweet and more creamy, with more carbonation.

I enjoy them both. And because this ale is at the LCBO, it's readily available. For another month or so, at least.

Finally, I delved into another Toronto beer, the second pumpkin ale that I ever tried (the first was a cask-conditioned, one-off that my friend, Perry, made a couple of years ago for Volo Cask Days, and is one of the best pumpkin ales I've ever had).

The first time that I had Great Lakes Brewery Pumpkin Ale, I wasn't crazy about it. To me, the pumpkin flavours didn't taste genuine. They tasted artificial.

Last year, I tried this pumpkin ale again, and I developed a better appreciation for it. But, in truth, I did try it after I had another pumpkin ale that knocked my socks off, whose flavours overpowered my taste buds.

(I think Coors Light would have tasted decent after this other, as-yet-unnamed pumpkin ale, which I'll be reviewing in another week or two: it's probably my favourite one so far. But I still have more to try.)

So, on my third tasting of Great Lakes Pumpkin Ale, I paid closer attention, and this is what I found:

In the glass, the colour is a golden orange with a pale foam that lasts through the better half of the glass. On the nose, I found citrus scents with nice spice and a hint of honey. The nose, I found, is the best aspect of the beer.

On the palate, I tasted bold hops but not much in the way of pumpkin. Though this ale isn't particularly high in alcohol (5.5% ABV), those flavours come through in the finish. 

It's a decent pumpkin ale, but for me it's not a favourite. For me, it doesn't compare with Mill Street's and doesn't even come close to the atypical offering from Ashton.

But one thing's certain: I'm going to love October, when I review many more pumpkin ales. Cheers!

Why France Should Stick To Wine

I'm sure many of you who read my beer reviews must sometimes think to yourselves, what does this guy know about beer? What are his credentials?

Believe me: every time I try a new beer and then sit in front of my keyboard, I think the same thing.

Let me tell you a little bit about myself, and then I'll tell you why I like reviewing beer. And then, I'll give you another beer review.

While I've always liked beer, I pursued an interest in wine. It must have stemmed from house parties, where I saw everyone bring a case of beer to the party and then park themselves on it so that no one would steal a bottle. I thought that was crazy, and so I'd always show up with a bottle of red wine: I'd crack it open, pour myself a glass, and then leave the bottle in the middle of the kitchen table. No one would touch it.

When I got older, I decided that I wanted to be better educated in wine, having spent my teens and early 20s drinking nothing but B&G's Cuvée Speciale. Not that there was particularly anything wrong with it, but I wanted to branch out.

I started with a simple introductory book of wine, created by the sommelier of the Windows of the World restaurant in New York. I would research a wine region, go to my local LCBO, pick a bottle from that region, and then try it. This went on for a couple of years.

My favourite old-world wines come from France and Spain (I love Riojas); my new-world picks mostly come from Australia and Chile, though I developed a strong appreciation for Canadian wines.

In 1994, I was introduced to the Inniskillin Wine Boutique in downtown Ottawa, where I met the manager, Perry Mason. Over the course of a few years, he and I shared our interest in wine. Perry even taught a wine-appreciation course at Algonquin College, and so Lori and I signed up. The course was part of the sommelier program, itself part of the hotel and restaurant management program.

Lori and I took the first three levels of the program. Every evening of the course, we tasted at least six different wines from all over the world. We learned about the different regions and grape varieties. By the end of the third level, we could taste a wine without seeing the bottle and tell you what the grape was and what country it came from. Sometimes, we could even tell you which region it was. We could tell you if it was an old wine or a young one.

Once, while Perry was pouring a wine from a bottle that was concealed in a paper bag, I was able to tell the grape, country, region, vineyard, vintage, and winemaker. I even sketched the label. All by simply seeing the wine as it was being poured in the glass.

But that's another story.

I kept a wine journal. In the space of about two years, I had notes on more than 2,000 different wines. I knew wine. All thanks to Perry and our mutual wine friends.

But Perry's real passion was not wine, but beer. And so my education took another turn as Perry introduced me to different varieties of beer, as he was running his own microbrewery. Through Perry, I tried some fabulous ales, make by him and by other brewers. Over that time, I drank less and less wine, and more and more beer. Perry explained the brewing process and some of the techniques he used in making beer.

On my own, I've also visited many breweries and seen their beer-making processes.

And so I feel I know beer almost as well as I know wine. But one thing is certain. I know what I like.

A couple of weeks ago, I tried and reviewed a new style of beer for me, a Bière de Garde, a style that comes from northern France. I tend not to think of beer when I think of France: I think of a nice, flinty Alsatian Gewurztraminer or a full-bodied Cote du Rhone.

But this Bière de Garde was something else, and so I wanted to try some from the region than made it famous. And this pick is 3 Monts.

3 Monts Flanders Golden Ale

Fermentation Haute Speciale

Brasserie De Saint-Sylvestre, France

$5.39, 750 mL; 8.5% alc/vol

Never before, have I needed more than one tool to open a bottle: a bottle opener. To open this bottle, I needed two tools: a screwdriver and a corkscrew. The screwdriver was used to pry a giant, metal staple-like strap that held a cork in place. And of course, I needed the corkscrew to withdraw the cork.

The first thing I detected was the smell of alcohol. At 8.5 percent, it's not the highest alcohol level I've tried, but it's respectable. For this beer, it was distinct.

In the glass, the beer was a pale straw colour, which surprised me after the glowing amber of the Mill Street Bière de Garde. Clearly, they were two distinct beers. The 3Monts had a clean, white, foamy head that held for most of the life of the beer in the glass.

The nose held high aromas of alcohol in the glass, with sharp hops. There was no fruit, none of the wonderful scents I had with the Ambre de la Chaudière. It was at this point I told myself not to compare the two, but to focus on this selection.

In the mouth, the alcohol continued on its way. There were hops, but to me they seemed sour. And the aroma, as it opened, felt stale. I know that a Bière de Garde is made for storing, but to me this one seemed stored too long.

I didn't finish the bottle.

I was disappointed with this beer. It seemed to ride on its alcohol strength, but little else. While the French have perfected the art of winemaking, they have a way to go as brewers.

There is one thing that I learned from my days as a wine student: if you are trying a wine, and you can afford it, buy two. That way, if you like it, you have another to put down for a special occasion. I bought two bottles of 3 Monts. But I don't think I'll keep the second.

There's no special occasion for this one.

Wuchak: Not Bad At All

I've been missing my wife over the past week, as she's away on business in Taiwan. She left before Valentine's Day, so we didn't spend that romantic day together. Instead, I watched our kids eat chocolate.

I miss my wife's home cooking. She's a great cook with a wonderful repertoire of dishes, yet loves to experiment and try new things as well. She loves to get us to be adventurous with her.

When my wife cooks a new meal and I dig in, she'll ask, "how is it?" Unless I really don't like the meal she's prepared, I'll give a non-committal response: "It's not bad."

She's used to this response. She hears it a lot. When she does, she knows me. She knows that I didn't hate the dish but she doesn't know if I like it (if I love it, I state it loud and clear). So, with my ambiguous answer, she'll follow up with another question.

"Would you eat it again?"

She knows that I'll answer honestly, with a simple yes or no. If I give a yes, she knows she has a new addition to her repertoire.

Because she's gone, I may not be eating as well as I would with her here, but I'm an okay cook and so my girls and I are getting along all right. And just because she's gone, I'm not about to stop my weekend routine of trying new beer. (You were probably wondering when I'd get to the point, weren't you?)

This weekend, I thought I would try another local brewery; this time, one that is much closer to home than Beau's. And so I visited a brewery that I pass several times a week and picked up their seasonal brew.

That brewery is Kichesippi, and the beer is their Wuchak Black.

Wuchak Black Cascadian Dark Ale
Kichesippi Beer Company
Ottawa, ON
$11.75 + $4.00 deposit, 64 fl. oz (growler); 6.4% alc/vol

Wuchak, according to the brewery's Web site, is a First Nation's word. Unfortunately, Kichesippi's Web site doesn't say what the word means, but it does say that over time the word transformed into woodchuck. Wikipedia offers a little more information, saying the word is originally Algonquin, or possibly Narraganset, and is the word for those gopher-like animals that we in the Ottawa area affectionately know as groundhogs. So it makes sense that the brewery would release this ale on Groundhog Day.

This Black IPA is a seasonal beer that is only available at select pubs^* and restaurants in Ottawa or from the brewery directly. If you want some to take home, you'll have to buy it at the brewery, where it is only available in 64-ounce growlers. Not that that's a bad thing.

Unless you're alone, like me, and have to drink it all yourself. Not that that's a bad thing.

Wuchak Black is dark brown in colour, with only a slight trace of red—and only visible when you hold it up to bright light. The head is a creamy brown and not very thick; it dissipates quickly but leaves a thin lace on top.

On the nose, I detected dark chocolate and roasted malts, but the nose needed to open up over time. I consumed my growler in three sittings over Saturday and Sunday, and I found the nose was the strongest when I poured my fourth and final glass.

In the mouth, I was met with a rich, roasted coffee and traces of burnt walnut. The malt flavour and coffee carried through to the finish, which I felt seemed short, but clean.

For a dark ale, though, I found it a little light in body, especially with my first two pints. I expected a little more from this beer, and perhaps that was due to my anticipation with this dark ale and with the fact that Kichesippi had purchased an Ottawa brewery that had a few years ago itself purchased another local brewery.

Remember my first beer review? The 2005 Imperial Stout from Scotch-Irish Brewing Company, founded by my good friend and brewmaster, Perry Mason? Perry was the king of dark ales. He made that fabulous vintage stout that held up after six years; he also made his Black Irish Porter, perhaps one of the best porters I've ever had. Perry made a few other dark ales over the years; one of the last dark beers that Perry made, after he had sold his brewery and recipes to Heritage Brewery, was one final Imperial Stout: John By.

When Kichesippi Beer Company bought Heritage, my hopes were that they would keep and use some of Perry's old recipes. When Wuchak was released, I was very excited and had high hopes for this beer. When I visited the brewery and had the lady in the store fill a growler for me, I asked her what had happened to Perry's beer. Sadly, she told me that the line of Scotch-Irish beers had been retired.

Had Kichesippi bought Heritage to crush them? Perhaps. Who knows? Something had already been lost when Perry left Heritage and was no longer making his beer for them. Maybe the retirement of the line at this point was not as great a loss as when the master was no longer brewing.

But I had high hopes for Wuchak. Were my hopes dashed when I drank my growler? A bit, but not really. Though I was hoping for something more, in the end I did enjoy Wuchak. It's a good, easy-drinking dark ale. And though it has a somewhat high alcohol content, it's not overpowering. Wuchak drinks very well and I imagine that it will have a strong appeal to those who try it.

So, what did I think about Wuchak Black? Not bad, not bad at all.

The all-important question: would I drink it again?

Yes, definitely. While it lasts.

^* For information about pubs and restaurants that carry this beer, contact Kichesippi Beer Co.

Still Fantastic, Six Years On

If someone were to hand you a bottle of beer and say, "Enjoy... and by the way, it's six years old," would you drink it?

Probably not.

If that person were to hand you the beer and say nothing, you may open it and be in for a nasty surprise as you actually tasted the old, flat, skunky brew.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend handed me a plastic grocery bag that contained four bottles of beer, but he said nothing of what the beer was nor of its age. The labels on the bottles did all the talking, and I was thrilled by what they said.

My friend, Perry, was the owner and brewmaster of the Scotch-Irish Brewing Company, which he sold some years back to Heritage Brewing, which is now owned by Kichessippi Beer Company. In the seven or eight years that he ran his brewery, Perry made some of the best beers that I ever tasted. He single-handedly got me away from the mainstream beers and onto premium, hand-crafted microbrewery beer.

The Scotch-Irish Brewing Company was well-known in the Ottawa area, in Hamilton, and Guelph, among other Ontario cities, for flavourful ales such as Session Ale, Sgt. Major's IPA, and Black Irish Porter (affectionately known as Perry's Porter, or pee-pee). But in 2005, Perry did something really special.

Perry created a vintage Imperial Stout. It was his crowning achievements of the Scotch-Irish Brewing Company, and one of the last beers he crafted before selling his brewery to Heritage.

Named Tsarina Katarina Imperial Stout, the heady brew (at 9% alcohol) was named after Catherine the Great, of Russia, who purportedly enjoyed a good stout. It was also named after Perry's young daughter. But what made this stout particulary special was its aging potential. So much so, that Perry affixed a vintage label to the neck of the bottle. The beer was released in the autumn of 2005. Perry believed that this stout could last as long as ten years.

When I bought my case from him (at the time, it was $75 for 24), I told him that I probably couldn't hold out for ten years. The stout had a creamy head and had intense, creamy chocolate tones. Though the alcohol content was high, there was no high alcohol flavour. Sure, after two bottles you felt it, but it was a satisfying feeling.

My case lasted almost a year. I tried to limit myself to two bottles a month, but dammit, it was great beer! And, of course, when I visited Perry's home, he would have more on hand.

Which brings us to two weeks ago, when Perry gave me four more bottles of the brew as I left his dinner party. It had been at least three years since I had seen any of this stout, and I was quite excited. I wanted to see how well it had held up in the six years since Perry had first made it.

The first thing I noticed when I twisted off the cap was how tight the cap was screwed on. Using a tea towel for a safe grip, I really had to wrench that sucker off. And the second thing I noticed was the absence of the pffft! that you get when opening a carbonated beverage. It made a faint ssss, but barely.

Pouring the stout into my glass, there was a faint presence of effervescence, but only slight. By the time my glass was full, there was barely a head. But there was evidence of carbonation. Some bubbles clung to the side of the glass and rumbled at the top. Inside my now-empty bottle, some sediment. Dark, sandy dregs.

The beer was still black and inviting. No light passed through the glass. On smelling it, there were distinct notes of cedar and tobacco. No hint of alcohol in the nose, though the aroma was intoxicating.

On my first sip, I was immediately hit with flavours of burnt caramel and unsweetened dark chocolate. The cedar aromas that I had smelled carried through to the palate and down the back of the throat. As with the younger version of this beer, there was no strong flavour of alcohol.

Tsarina Katarina Imperial Stout has held up extremely well over six years. I thoroughly enjoyed drinking it. It reminded me of what a craftsman Perry truly is. Though I'm unsure how well this stout will hold up for its tenth anniversary: the carbonation is almost gone now; it may be completely gone in another year or two. And how will the flavour hold up?

I think that this stout has hit its peak. I loved it when it was young, I really liked it after six years. I'm not sure if I'll enjoy it in another four.

But Perry, if you still have some in 2015 and offer me a bottle, I'd never turn it down!