It's smaller than I expected. But then again, I didn't really know what to expect, beyond the grand delusions planted in my head by half a dozen people. Walking in, it looked like a small speciality wine and beer store. Which is what it is. A small convenience store type place. Wine to the right. The register and a couple shelves of beer on the left. Directly ahead, a row of speciality beer, and behind that a chilled section.
At first, the selection of speciality beer seemed underwhelming. Stuff you might expect from brewery's familiar to the area. But then I started browsing, looking at the bottles between the bottles, and started to grow excited. A lot of great stuff from all over the world. Stuff I've never even heard of, and rare stuff from places I have.
Quickly, however, our attentions turned to the bar connected to the store through a pathway towards the back. The bar area was enormous, nearly doubling the size of the store, and featured an entire area dedicated to shelves for beer and wine clubs. We bellied right up and met Jake, barkeep extraordinaire. The bar had seven taps (a recent upgrade from four, I hear), or at least it looked like seven. Their website has only six options listed, and an incredible list of upcoming kegs.
Before we move on, a quick sidebar. I've had a long history with the Full Sail Brewery. Growing up in Utah, quality beer was a commodity, and hard to discover Not that there wasn't any at all, you just had to go to one of the few state run liquor stores to get anything above 3.2% ABV, which the state mandated was the limit for beer sold in privately owned stores. So getting a hold of a quality beer took a lot of experimenting or word of mouth from fellow beer aficionados. Enter Full Sale Pail Ale, the beer that opened me up to the world of craft beer. A friend had it at a party and had me try it, and it changed me and the way I looked at beer. Honestly, I think it's bland now, but we've all got to start somewhere. Over the past few years, I've kind of fallen off with Full Sail.
Until this trip to Enoteca, that is.
Behold, the Full Sail Top Sail Bourbon Barrel-aged Imperial Porter. Black as night and big as the moon, this porter punches your taste buds right in the face. If taste buds had faces, that is. My, that is a funny image.Anyway, according the Full Sail website, this porter sat in Kentucky bourbon casks for at least a year, bringing out the "hints of chocolate, figs, vanilla and oak." I hate to admit that my recent misgivings about Full Sail left me with somewhat lowered expectations, but this beer is a monster. It's a full figured and full flavored monster.
And that just happens to be my type.
This is the second porter in as many weeks that's left me partially to fully blown away. Perhaps it's time I completely reevaluate my stance on porters. But I suspect I'll be left wanting with the standard ones. It's all about the imperials.
Shh. Don't tell the rebel alliance.
Following the first pint, we decided to hang out for a while. No surprise. The Top Sail is top heavy, a hefty 9.5% ABV. Misty, My Indian Companion, had ordered a Bloody Mary, which Jake hand made using his own special recipe (which included Sriracha, my favorite condiment) and house made tomato juice. According to Misty, it's the best Bloody Mary she's ever had. It's certainly the best I've ever had, and that's putting lightly. She had me try it, despite my declaration that I've never cared for Bloody Marys.
Goddamn.
The Bloody Mary alone is worth the trip. Jake works Tuesdays and Saturdays, so make a day of it. Careful though. He might talk you into opening one of the speciality bottles of beer they have on hand in the bar. Not that that's a bad thing, considering the beer we had next was phenomenal.
And who doesn't want to get crazy?
Speaking of crazy, the more I think about this beer, and let the faces of my taste buds remember the assault and battery they got from it, the more I think I'd rank this near the top of my list of favorite beers. But it's a tricky line, that. I don't know that I'd say this is one of the best beer's I've had, but rather one of my favorites. There is a distinction there. It's still up there in terms of quality, but for some reason I'm allowing the simplicity of this stout make me think it's somehow 'lesser' than the more complex barrel-aged beers I've talked about in previous posts. But at the price point (a 22oz bottle retails for around 16 bucks, so I'm told), I'd find it damn near impossible not to take a bottle home any time I saw it on a shelf.
Better than the Yeti? Wow. I can't believe I find myself even questioning. But dammit, the Berserker's up there.
You know, I misspoke. I really shouldn't have said the faces of my taste buds were assaulted and battered. That sounds like it wasn't a pleasant experience. Instead, these buds, faced or non-faced, were messaged into a state of sublime serenity. They transcended this plane of reality into a pool of malted bliss. Of maple and molasses tranquility.
And now I can't believe I ever questioned the quality. Any beer that can inspire me to write those kind of analogies has got to have something special going on.
Berserker indeed. And with a name like that, maybe it is an assault and battery on the taste buds. I'm waffling! But didn't I say pancakes before?
Moving on. Following Enoteca, this happened:
After that we stopped in at Selkirk Abbey Brewing, one of the newer breweries in the inland northwest area. The tasting room has nine taps, four of which are their very own belgian style and inspired beers, and five guest taps, including (at the time of our visit) the Brett Beer from New Belgium Brewing, The Rocket Dog and the bourbon barrel-aged Dogfather Imperial Stout from Laughing Dog Brewing, the 10 Commandments from Lost Abbey Brewing, and the Duchesse de Bourgogne from Brewery Verhaeghe (Don't worry - I can't pronounce any of that either). If you're into tart beers, the Duchesse is as good as a tart gets
We tried them all:
A strong showing from Selkirk Abbey. I especially like the Infidel IPA. And it's a big fella, too. 9.2% ABV, which is huge for a standard IPA, but this one is particularly well balanced. Not too boozy. Smooth. Crisp and clean.
In other words, trouble. Trouble with a capital IPA. Which doesn't make a lick of sense.
Speaking of a lick of sense, I've been thinking more about these taste buds with faces. Perhaps they like being assaulted and battered. Perhaps that's what they're into, what get's them off. Who knew the tongue was such a kinky organ? The tongue is an organ, right? And how fucking creepy is the phrase, "kinky organ?"
Funny how after nine posts I decide I shouldn't hold back on the colorful language. This is a blog about beer, after all. I think it's safe to assume that no one but underage fuck-ups would read this shit, and they certainly don't mind a few Carlin-isms. Right?
And I'd bet George Carlin tapped a lot of glass in his day, so this glass tap's for him:
Tap that fuckin' glass, motherfucker.
I think I'm on my way to Enoteca!
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