Dave’s Travel Blog

Note: this piece was originally composed some time back; it briefly appeared on these pages, but in an ill-advised attempt last year to sanitize the site for a more general audience — that is, for people with whom I am acquainted “in the real world” — I removed it. Bah, what foolishness! For your edification and amusement, I have restored the Stone Smoked Porter review. So push your chair nearer the fire, crack open a pint of your favorite, and enjoy!

– Dave
15 March 2010

Stone Smoked Porter – 22 oz – Saturday, 12 July, 2008. 4:30 p.m.

As a disclaimer I must state: prior to cracking open the gold-painted cap of this smoked porter from Stone Brewing Company, I have consumed, at probably too rapid a pace, a 22-oz bottle of Stone Brewing Company’s Arrogant Bastard Ale, a bitter brew which goes straight from palate to head. Hence, I find myself, in addition to being unable to type (every third word in this dispatch is requiring a minimum of three attempts to correct), in a spectacularly and uncharacteristically good mood.

This appraisal is accompanied by a small bowl of mixed baked pita chips and salted peanuts, for clearing the palate between sips.

First impression: upon carefully working loose the cap from the 22-oz bottle of Stone Smoked Porter, I was met with a faint but pleasant malt aroma. Be advised, I am recovering from a moderate cold, so my senses are not as of yet at full capacity. I suspect that under circumstances of full health this subtle malt aroma might be more pronounced, and even more agreeable.

Upon pouring, I must admit to being somewhat unimpressed by the “splashiness” of even a slow pour. I had to remind myself that this brew is a porter, not a stout, so I should not expect the viscous Valvoline pour of a heavier beer. The head foamed more than I would have expected for a slow pour down the inward side of the glass, and formed with comparatively large bubbles; it was a “foamy” head, at least as compared to the “creamy” head of a typical stout. The bubbles quickly condensed to form a denser head which dispersed fairly promptly, other than a discreet filminess around the circumference of the pint glass.

After being momentarily taken aback by the lack of stillness in the pour, I was suddenly and immediately delighted by the absolutely perfect coloration of this porter. A rich mahogany glow permeated the liquid as it drained from the bottle to coalesce in the glass in utter and absolute perfection!

How to describe the color of this beverage? Imagine the finest, sheerest silk, clinging and supple as a widow’s web, black as the velvet sky of a moonless midnight, draped over the firm, exquisite breasts of a petite, sun-bronzed Filipina beauty, fringed with antique ivory lace: that is the imagery this color, this tint, this symphony of mahogany shades created through the chemistry of steeped malted barleys, brought to mind… indeed, brings to mind, with every glance at the otherwise staid pint glass. Now the appeal of a steady pint in a dark London pub in the dead of winter becomes clear. The warmth and the strength of a dark pint runs far deeper than the flavor, the texture, or the alcohol content; rather, the warmth is that of a dream, nay, a fantasy! Through artistry in color and tint and tone, the brewmaster becomes a conjurer, promising, in form far more tangible than that of faith and scripture, a life more abundant!

Saturday, 12 July, 2008, 5:55 p.m.

I found it necessary take a few minutes respite whilst sobering up to the point where I can type again. A brief… how would one describe it… indiscretion… into the ilk of Corona beer… Corona Light, no less… a few weeks ago has left me somewhat under-equipped to handle the impact of a Real Man’s Beer. Indeed, even those stalwarts of my quiver, Newcastle Brown Ale and Guinness Extra Stout, have ill-prepared me for the imbibing of such an intricately-crafted masterpiece of the zymurgic art as tonight’s porter. In my defense, I offer that the Corona was left by an acquaintance, and I was taken in by the old adage, “beer is beer.” That, obviously and truly, is not the case, as the beverage currently before me so eloquently demonstrates.

Aroma, texture, color… and oh, what color! But what about flavor? That is, after all, the end-all of a craft beer, is it not? Does the flavor of Stone Smoked Porter differ at all from that of a mass-market spirit?

Often times I see the term “complex” when describing the flavor of a specialty beer. While in general I consider the term an “easy way out” for a reviewer when a flavor is pleasantly palatable but difficult to differentiate from other, similar beers, in the case of Stone Smoked Porter I think “complex” might apply, specifically because the flavor, at least as I perceived it, changed in character as the temperature changed.

My first thought, upon first sip, once I settled from the vivid flights of fancy inspired by the delectable coloration, was “mildly hoppy,” but otherwise underwhelming. This was when the beer was freshly chilled. As the foamy head subsided and the temperature of the liquid warmed, a more noticeable richness of flavor emerged.

Would that I could wax so eloquently about the flavor of this beer as I did the smooth, rich mahogany color! I seriously doubt, however, that any flavor could match the smoky sweet-sour of an exquisite, sultry young South Seas siren. This, alas, is mere conjecture on my part, although it ranks high on my list of Life Goals is to pursue further research on this most exquisite of topics.

As the Stone Smoked Porter warmed, the flavor became more interesting. I would say that I enjoyed it most when it was just a few degrees shy of room temperature. At that point a mellow maltiness became apparent, with a subtly sweet chocolate essence, smooth, and in keeping with the character I expected or hoped for from this brew. I savored those smooth, caramel draughts, allowing the mellow cocoa-richness to accentuate the relaxing intoxication engendered by the sufficient-to-be-felt alcohol content. A pint and a half of this porter, at a cool but not chilled temperature, offered, dare I reach so far, a sense of inspiration; indeed, of confidence; a feeling that the world is good and anything worth having is within reach.

I thought, then, back upon history, the history of porter beer, and felt that I understood the origins, the roots, of this formerly “working-class,” or even “under-class” beverage. A well-mixed, smoky-rich porter isn’t just a beverage: it’s a window to a world of possibilities. The mix of color, flavor, and intoxication hint that there is, hidden, but within reach, a key to the doorway of opportunity. Whether it be true insight or mere mirage, for an hour or two at least, a good porter serves as a portal to better things.

I allowed the last few ounces in the glass to warm to full room temperature, at which point the mellow malt gives way to a harsher, peatier flavor, more akin to a stout but without the heavier viscosity which makes the “burnt” flavor more palatable. When this beer is overly warm, the fairy tale vision, like the essence of sweet chocolate, evaporates, replaced with a hint of bitterness. The life lesson here, perhaps, is to act when inspiration strikes, to reach through the window of opportunity before bitter reality chains you once again to the now.

Stone Smoked Porter is a fascinating beer, interesting both for its physical, and its metaphysical, characteristics. In the right setting (calm, not hurried), at the right temperature (cool, neither cold nor warm), it is a beer of considerable merit, one to be thoughtfully savored and enjoyed as one of the riches of being alive.