I smell dark roasted barley, and oak.

I taste bittersweet hops well balanced with a golden roasted barley.  I taste the oak, too, and I’m not really sure if it adds anything.  Maybe a distant whiskey note, very subtle, and not actually necessary — as in, it doesn’t seem to add to the flavor.  To me the flavor actually takes a hit because of it.

Groovy.

I mean, it’s still groovy.  As in, that’s how it tastes.

Um.  But not quite Holy.  It doesn’t make the scale.

I shouldn’t write these things after drinking so many of them.  But you know, there’s nothing like a big, cold, strong ale when you’re stressed.  It’s good medicine for the soul.  Much better than those uber annoying Chicken Soup books that make you boo hoo and sends the snot running out your nose.

How does that help, really?

Now beer, or in this case, ale, it makes you feel good, it relaxes you, it fills your body with antioxidants and boosts your levels of vitamin B6.  As long as you don’t suffer from gout and you’re not behind a wheel, it’s a good thing.

I’ve got to go finish this big old bottle in a quiet place.  And, um, contemplate existence or something.

Peace out. 

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I don’t know what the heck possessed me, but I added a significant amount of Left Hand Milk Stout to my eggs as I was beating them for my omelette this morning.

It looked horrible, and didn’t smell that good either.

But it was delicious.

And, by the way, Left Hand Milk Stout makes the perfect breakfast beer.  It tastes like coffee.

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Immort Ale.  Imortale.  Imortal.  Get it? 

N’yuk n’yuk! 

Hello?  Hello, is this microphone on? 

Wow, you’re a tough crowd.  Maybe Dogfish Head should just stick to beer.

Moving right along, I pop the top of this little brown bottle and take that obligatory sniff.  It smells like sugar infused malt and hops.  It smells good.  It’s making my mouth water.

I put the bottle to my lips and tip it up.  It tastes sweet, thick, malty — like Malt-o-Meal malty — it’s fairly smooth but, not beautiful-woman-backside smooth.  Just smooth.  Smooth and hoppy, with nice tangy citrus overtones.  It leaves with a lip-smacking maple finish.

It’s too sweet to be Holy.  But, it’s plenty sweet enough to be groovy, and with 11% alcohol, it’s strong enough too.

It’s also gone already.

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“Handcrafted Ancient Ale, with barley, honey, white Muscat grapes and saffron.”

Dogfish Head claims to have recreated the earliest known fermented beverage in the world, crafted from evidence found in none other than the tomb of King Midas.

This may be the Holy Beer.

I have to admit, I’m rather excited, and just a little nervous.  What if I do find the Holy Beer?  Does that mean I’m done?  This website gets shut down?

Fin?

We’ll see.  I pop the top.  Take a sniff.

Oh, man, the roast barley smells wonderful.  There’s an undercurrent of saffron and just a hint of grapes.  Very interesting, and it has my mouth watering.  So, without further ado, I put the bottle to my lips and tip her back.

Okay, it’s … weird.  Like a beer/wine cocktail.   Not bad, not fantastic.  Can’t tell yet if it’s Holy.  I have to sip this nectar and ponder the meaning of life for a bit.

Halfway through the bottle, and I have this odd feeling that my breath is flammable.  It’s not that high an alcohol content, though — a respectable 9% but still, that’s not enough to flame my lips, though for some reason it feels like I could.

The tastes are subtle and delicious.  This isn’t one of those over-the-top bang-on-the-head fantastic brews, but it’s fantastic in its own quiet way.  The honey sweetness is a perfect counterpoint to the barley and saffron.  There’s a bready, biscuity undertone that is quite pleasant.

This may not be the Holy Beer, but it’s definitely a contender.  I’ll rate it a… um…

Wait.  Hold on.  Is this really a beer?  I mean, the more I sip, the more it tastes like I’m drinking Champagne.  But they’re calling it an ale.

A quandary!  I seriously don’t know what to make of it.  Indecision has cost it some points.  I hereby bestow upon it a respectable 6.7 on the Holy Grail Scale, and proclaim it to be groovy.

And now pardon me while I go look in a mirror to make sure my tongue hasn’t turned to gold.

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