If y'all recall, we did the best beer swap in the history of beer swaps right about five years ago. I still have one . . . at least, for a few minutes. Because, when this mofo is gone, I got the feeling it's gone for good and forever.
First, let me apologize to who sent this. I've long since lost the paperwork and cannot find the thread on the forum (not that I've looked very much). You send me three versions of your barleywine, if I recall, and I finally have opened up the "6" tonight. I recall that this one was spiked with vanilla, and that is one of the reason I let it sit in the back of the bottom shelf of my fridge for five years. I might be smart, that way, but I bet I'm just lucky to have this well-crafted beer in my glass that is in my hand.
Caramel and vanilla explode in the aroma, but so do ripe plum, ripe date, and ripe fig. Dried fruit notes do show a bit, but only in the background. The most prominent aroma is the vanilla, followed closely by ripe date. As might be expected of a beer that could go to kindergarten, the hops are all gone. Don't care. Don't need 'em. There's plenty of roasted pecan to stand in its stead.
Wow! Take a sip of this baby, and it is like roasted pecan syrup! I don't mean that in a bad way at all, because, even though the finish is about as long as Princess Di's wedding dress train, it's also about only a shadow less dry as Charles's romantic overture. To be more precise, this beer is the best Fig Newton anyone could ever eat, topped off with the perfect chocolate fudge and washed down with a port that should make some King Philip cry in his hands like a baby. It's not sweet, though--just flavorful. Loads and loads, and layers and layers of flavor. You get vanilla, then fig, then date, then vanilla, then a bit of malt, then more fig and vanilla (and a hell of a lot more fig, date, and vanilla, with some graham cracker malt). Get the picture?. I dare you to come and take this away from me.
Mouthfeel is quite full, but not underattenuated at all. Thick, but no marbles in the mouth. In fact, some astringency lingers to this day. Makes me shudder a bit to think about how this might have played a few years ago, but nobody gives a damn about how many folks love watching "Raising Arizona," these days. It may not have been the bees' knees when she was born, but she sure as hell is now, and that's what counts.
All jokes aside, I sincerely wish I could remember or find the paper that would make me remember your name, dear brewer. I meant to. I put this beer in the back of my fridge for a reason, and I kept that paper you sent on the counter right across from it for a reason. Things happen, and the paper went away. For other (obvious) reasons, I was not able to dig up the thread. You sent me three beers, and I've made it to this on schedule, or a few weeks late.
Bottom line: I've tasted better, but not many.
More seriously, the vanilla takes it out pure barleywine, but who in their right mind could give a damn? Guidelines, schimidelines. Be damned with any guidelines. I am sitting here, drinking and loving this beer, and many folks will testify what I typically think of vanilla beers.
This damned thing is beautiful. You should be mighty proud. The only thing that keeps me finishing it so quickly is the thought that I never will have another.
No, I am not getting soft in my old age. Ask anyone. I'm Dixie Cup Coordinator, again, so I'm as cynical and bitter as hell. This is one beautiful baby
Do it again, put it on the shelf for five years, and send a LOT to me, dude.
TL
First, let me apologize to who sent this. I've long since lost the paperwork and cannot find the thread on the forum (not that I've looked very much). You send me three versions of your barleywine, if I recall, and I finally have opened up the "6" tonight. I recall that this one was spiked with vanilla, and that is one of the reason I let it sit in the back of the bottom shelf of my fridge for five years. I might be smart, that way, but I bet I'm just lucky to have this well-crafted beer in my glass that is in my hand.
Caramel and vanilla explode in the aroma, but so do ripe plum, ripe date, and ripe fig. Dried fruit notes do show a bit, but only in the background. The most prominent aroma is the vanilla, followed closely by ripe date. As might be expected of a beer that could go to kindergarten, the hops are all gone. Don't care. Don't need 'em. There's plenty of roasted pecan to stand in its stead.
Wow! Take a sip of this baby, and it is like roasted pecan syrup! I don't mean that in a bad way at all, because, even though the finish is about as long as Princess Di's wedding dress train, it's also about only a shadow less dry as Charles's romantic overture. To be more precise, this beer is the best Fig Newton anyone could ever eat, topped off with the perfect chocolate fudge and washed down with a port that should make some King Philip cry in his hands like a baby. It's not sweet, though--just flavorful. Loads and loads, and layers and layers of flavor. You get vanilla, then fig, then date, then vanilla, then a bit of malt, then more fig and vanilla (and a hell of a lot more fig, date, and vanilla, with some graham cracker malt). Get the picture?. I dare you to come and take this away from me.
Mouthfeel is quite full, but not underattenuated at all. Thick, but no marbles in the mouth. In fact, some astringency lingers to this day. Makes me shudder a bit to think about how this might have played a few years ago, but nobody gives a damn about how many folks love watching "Raising Arizona," these days. It may not have been the bees' knees when she was born, but she sure as hell is now, and that's what counts.
All jokes aside, I sincerely wish I could remember or find the paper that would make me remember your name, dear brewer. I meant to. I put this beer in the back of my fridge for a reason, and I kept that paper you sent on the counter right across from it for a reason. Things happen, and the paper went away. For other (obvious) reasons, I was not able to dig up the thread. You sent me three beers, and I've made it to this on schedule, or a few weeks late.
Bottom line: I've tasted better, but not many.
More seriously, the vanilla takes it out pure barleywine, but who in their right mind could give a damn? Guidelines, schimidelines. Be damned with any guidelines. I am sitting here, drinking and loving this beer, and many folks will testify what I typically think of vanilla beers. This damned thing is beautiful. You should be mighty proud. The only thing that keeps me finishing it so quickly is the thought that I never will have another.
No, I am not getting soft in my old age. Ask anyone. I'm Dixie Cup Coordinator, again, so I'm as cynical and bitter as hell. This is one beautiful baby
Do it again, put it on the shelf for five years, and send a LOT to me, dude.
TL
