Beer O'Clock: Chocolate Milk Peanut Butter Porter

As much as I love my classic stouts and porters, every once and a while I like to try those that have been flavoured, be it vanilla, raspberry, or pretzel. Some brewers like to add extra sweetness to make the stout or porter more like a dessert, like Souther Tier's Crème Brulée Stout (which is no longer available on their Web site) or some of the crazy flavoured brews from Rogue Brewery (again, no longer available on their Web site).

I absolutely love when a brewer adds some lactose to a stout or porter, giving it a milky creaminess that makes me think of chocolate chip cookies. Some of my favourite additions to these dark ales include vanilla, chocolate, and (lately) peanut butter.

Some time back, I reviewed a peanut butter and raspberry milkshake stout that had me wanting to try peanut butter in my stout again, and on my last visit to my friendly neighbourhood LCBO, I spied a porter that was displayed at the checkout, as I was purchasing a bottle of wine to give a friend for his birthday.

I added two cans to my purchase.

I didn't recognize the brewery and noticed that it is located in Sarnia, Ontario. As far as I can remember, I've never had beer from this Southern Ontario city before, either. So it was time to give city, brewery, and brew a try.

Chocolate Milk Peanut Butter Porter (6.2 % ABV; 30 IBUs)
Imperial City Brew House
Sarnia ON

Appearance: pours a dark walnut with a foamy taupe head that risked overflowing in the glass but eventually settled to a solid cap.

Nose: peanut butter permeates the room—you don't need to stick your nose into the glass. But when you do stick your nose in and give a sniff, you can cut through the peanut butter and capture aromas of creamy milk chocolate.

Palate: I thought that the peanut butter would lead the way but it's the chocolate that I detected first. The peanut butter comes up on the porter's flanks and carry the brew to a perfect marriage of chocolate and peanut butter. In the lengthy finish left me with the slightly bitter taste of peanut skins and made me wonder if the brewer shelled the legumes and threw both peanuts and skins into the mash. The peanut flavour seems to only give the impression of peanut butter because of the creamy lactose.

There are no nuts used in the making of this porter, nor is there even any chocolate. The ingredients list boasts both natural and artificial flavour, and as disappointing as that sounded to me, I was glad that this brew wasn't going to turn away those who had nut allergies.

Overall impression: this is a nice flavoured porter that falls squarely in the dessert category. It filled me up after lunch and left me feeling satisfied. Despite the lack of actual peanut butter or chocolate, it tastes like the real thing and the balance of both flavours makes for a satisfying bevvy. If you like flavoured ales and like the combination of milk chocolate and peanut butter (think Reese), you'll like this porter.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺 + .5

You can find Imperial City's porter in the LCBO. Pick up some while it lasts.

Cheers!

Chocolate Milk

When Hawksley Workman released his Milk album, in 2010, I thought the music was great but knew that chocolate milk is even better. When Rufus Wainwright sang about "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk," I grimaced at the thought (though I loved the song).

Ham and cheese and chocolate milk. There are no substitutes.

Over the Christmas holidays, in addition to turkey leftovers, we had several leftovers from our traditional Brownfoot Christmas-morning brunch: spiral ham, stollen, and potato pie. I cherish all three of these dishes, eat them on the following mornings for as long as we have them.

In addition to eating the ham for breakfast, I also make myself ham and cheese sandwiches, piled high with the thick-cut, maple and brown-sugar glazed goodness, fresh, leafy lettuce, and meaty slices of beefeater tomatoes.

Awesome.

To wash down this kind of sandwich, I can think of nothing better than a tall, ice-cold glass of chocolate milk. In fact, if we don't have Nestle syrup or milk in the house, I won't make this sandwich. One cannot be had without the other.

I think this combination can be traced back to my final years of high school. In my final two years of secondary education, I was working 16 hours each week at a paint and wallpaper store at the Merivale Mall. This part-time job gave me enough pocket money to pay for gas when I borrowed my parents car, allowed me to go out to movies or for pizza with my friends, and to have cash in my pocket for school lunches.

Every day, without fail, I ate the same meal for lunch: a ham-and-cheese sandwich, a small carton of chocolate milk, and two chocolate-chip cookies. The sandwich was prepared that morning: soft, whole-wheat bread, cheddar cheese, honey-glazed ham, bright-green, leafy lettuce, and a juicy, red tomato. Only a small slathering of mayonnaise was applied to the vegetable side; a sample of honey mustard to the ham.

To my teenage youth, it was perfection. I couldn't make a sandwich better. And the slightly sweet, rich chocolate milk washed it all down.

The cookies were just a bonus. If the school kitchen ran out of them, I'd still take the sandwich and drink. But run out of either one, and I'd go hungry.

And now, as I wrap up this post about ham sandwiches and chocolate milk, I can't get Rufus' song out of my head. Only, I'll substitute "cigarettes" for "sandwiches."