I Just Wanted the Best Beer in the World

I didn't know it was the Best Beer in the World, and the truth is that I wasn't really that interested. When I planned on heading over to Monk's this week for Russian River Monday Madness, I had Temptation and Supplication in mind. I figured that maybe, if I felt like it afterward, I'd try the much lauded Pliny the Younger and see what all the hoopla was about. As it turns out, I was terribly deluded.

Why? Well, because every other beer geek from within a few hundred miles had the same idea. The hype over Vinnie Cilurzo's monster triple IPA has apparently whipped the craft beer community into a hop-doped frenzy, and Monk's was completely mobbed the minute they opened the doors at 11:30.

But...but...I wanted the funky, barrel aged stuff. I don't really care about an 11%abv hop-infused cluster bomb with the potential to blow my face clean off. I wanted the impossibly complex, sour, woody, winey wonders that Russian River is the master of. These beers cost about $30 a bottle, are difficult to get ahold of, and I was really looking forward to just a single glass of each of these wonders.

If I sound like a big baby now, you should have seen me at the bar when I realized all that was left on tap were the two IPAs available year-round: Blind Pig and Pliny the Elder. Then you should have seen my pout get deeper when the bartender informed me they were even out of bottles of the good stuff (I had decided to bite the bullet and pony up the big dollars). I grudgingly ordered a pint of Pliny the Elder and sulked. I sulked! I sat at one of the best beer bars in the country (world?), drinking one of the finest American IPAs currently brewed while rare March sunshine poured in through the front window, in the company of good friends, and I sulked like a spoiled eight-year-old.

If you have not tasted beers aged with the funky yeast beast Brettanomyces Bruxellensis, then I heartily encourage you to seek some out. American breweries Jolly Pumpkin, Lost Abbey, and Russian River are doing amazing things with wild/open fermentation and barrel aging with Brett (as well as Pediococcus and Lactobacillus bacteria). The Belgian Trappist brew Orval is delicious and fairly easy to find and--if you find yourself wishing to test the limits of your threshold of sourness in a beer--Kriek beers and Lambics by Brasserie Cantillon await.

My story gets less pathetic here. The bar started to clear out, my friends and I had a little more elbow room, and the pint I was drinking started lightening my mood. We found out that the bar did have some other bottles available: Consecration and Salvation. So, we did the only sensible thing and ordered them both.

The Consecration was tart, sweet and complex. We sat and inhaled the amazing aromas issuing from our tulip glasses and grinned like morons. The smell is beguiling, like super ripe fruit in a bath of balsalmic vinegar and vanilla. It grips you deep in your jawbones and sets your mouth salivating. Tart, vinous flavors yield to a sweet and lingering finish. Awesome.

Salvation is a deep amber ale in the style of a Belgian Strong Dark Ale. Incredible concentrations of various dried fruit flavors unfold on the tongue and evoke fig Newtons, prunes and even...Tootsie Rolls. Luscious mouthfeel, and a balanced sweetness. It could easily stand in for dessert.

Well, didn't the fog of my disappointment clear in a hurry? How silly of me.