Listen, Deschutes: it didn't have to be this way. You could have had all the glory for yourself. But you had to go and get all "technical" with me when I asked for a black & tan. Yeah, your brewmasters might have their hang-ups about liquid densities and the feasibility of layering a Mirror Pond Pale and an Obsidian Stout, but I just wanted a beer; not a science lesson. That means that you drove me to this. You made me take this folly on at home where it became even more likely that I'd make a mess out of trying to layer your booze in a pint glass. I still wanted a black & tan better than some old Guinness & Harp; I wanted a domestic black & tan to be proud of.
So, Deschutes, last weekend I pitted the black & tan you wouldn't make for me up against two other West coast breweries in a battle royale of mixed beers. I dragged A along to Belmont Station to select the contenders (though, I suppose it isn't so much dragging when she could easily spend as much time browsing their British food as I could their bomber selection) . I already had Deschutes in the first slot and figured that two other breweries would be enough for comparison without laying us both out in the process. The second brewery was an easy choice as well: Anderson Valley, which has to be one of my favorite breweries in the country, happens to make both an excellent stout and a great amber. That left the third glass empty. When we asked one of the staff if he had any ideas, he scoffed at the idea of a black & tan and said that if we were mixing beers, we'd be better off going for interesting flavors. That led us to North Coast Brewing, from which we selected two high-ABV beers bound to create a strange brew.
How it went down:
First of all, pouring a black & tan is a lot harder than it seems. You fill your pint glass halfway with an ale, then slowly pour the stout over the back of a spoon so that it doesn't break the surface, but just lies on top as a distinct layer. Ha. So maybe Deschutes was correct and the densities of American beers are just too hard to layer. Or maybe it has something to do with the American spirit that blends diversity into a cohesive whole or some b.s. like that. In any case, I ended up with some dark, blended pints instead of pretty pousse-cafe beers.
Round One: I kicked things off with the Deschutes, giving them the benefit of starting off on a fresh palate. On its own, the Mirror Pond Pale Ale is medium-bodied and very wheat-y. It has a taste of untoasted bread and a big, hoppy punch for a pale. When you take a whiff of the Obsidian Stout, you get a really strong coffee aroma, but the flavor is all roasted nuts and seeds. The Obsidian, too, was fairly hoppy for its class, which just cements my belief that Portland breweries love making hop-bombs.
Mirror Pond + Obsidian = The M.O.
When I blended the two Deschutes' brews, I have to say it kind of improved on the harsher aspects of both beers. The coffee tones of the Obsidian were bumped way up and sharpened with the Mirror Pond's acidity, to give it the character of an African coffee.
Round Two: These might be two of my favorite beers on their own. While I love the Portland hop-addiction, Anderson Valley makes really well-balanced, smooth beers that belie their complexity. The Boont Amber Ale is very malty and has a much rounder flavor than the Mirror Pond. As for the Oatmeal Stout, it leans much more towards the chocolate end of the stout spectrum, reminding me of Hershey's syrup with a caramelly richness.
Amber Ale + Oatmeal Stout = Amber Waves of Grain
Blending these two didn't noticeably improve upon either of the beers, perhaps because they were so good to begin with. Taken together, it was a very full bodied drink and nicely balanced. In a lot of ways, it had a bourbon-like flavor.
Round Three: At this point, A and I were both pretty glad that I'd gone for the 12 oz. bottles, rather than the 22 oz. bombers I'd wanted to get. Judging was certainly getting more difficult and well, you can just forget about my "layering" craft. Our choices from North Coast weren't going to make this any easier - we'd selected two strange, strong beers. For our "light" beer, we chose the Pranqster Belgian-style ale, a yeasty, heavy, ripe-tasting brew. To balance it, we went for an equally imposing stout, the Old Rasputin Russian Imperial. On its own, this stout has a funky sweetness like burnt sugar, and an alcoholic edge with a lightly smokey flavor.
Pranqster + Old Rasputin = Old Russian Joke
This was the wild-card blend of the night. It ended up tasting a lot like a barleywine - it had that classic sweetness with a hot, alcoholic kick. Our last black & tan ended up being the weirdest of the bunch, but it had its own, heady appeal.
Lessons learned? I'm still not going to listen to the pros, but I may need to practice pouring a black & tan sometime when I'm not drinking a black & tan. The two do not mix well, but the beers certainly do.
