A Salt & Vinegar Miscellany V

 

Aw, nuts!

Out of all the non-potato chip salt & vinegar snacks, these are the best so far. Both had a solid vinegar tang to complement the starch and fats in the nuts.

Highly recommended.

THE/OWL/BEER/IS/NOT/WHAT/IT/SEEMS: Rhoades' Scholar Stout by South Shore Brewery

Despite the suggestion on the label to "Try one in place of a cup of coffee", I want to begin by declaring that I drank mine in the evening after work and not first thing in the morning before work.

The breweries of northern Wisconsin (for a discussion on how to determine if you are in northern Wisconsin, go here) don't get anywhere near the love and attention that those in the south do. It's understandable, I suppose, as they are in small media markets and usually have limited or no distribution to the Madison and Milwaukee areas. They lack trendiness as well as the cachet of a New Glarus Spotted Cow that compels countless visitors from Illinois and Minnesota to stock up on cases of the stuff before heading home.

From my austral perspective in Madison, the biggest champion of the beers of the northern part of Wisconsin is Ryan Urban, an/the editor at the Barron News-Shield. He is the former host of the Beer Run Podcast which was, as far as I can tell, the last regular news source of beer happenings up north and it ceased activity in 2017. Today he writes about beer on the odd occasion for his paper's The Urban Rural Column and tweets about it on his Twitter feed.

On one hand, I do wish that some of the boreal beers of Wisconsin were more readily available down here because there are some delicious brews to be had. On the other, I appreciate regional variety and encountering different breweries and beers while I am traveling. Now, I grant you that you will find Spotted Cow in every corner of this state but, as I experienced on a recent trip, there are plenty of breweries up north with very limited distribution that basically require you to take a trip in order to taste their suds. (Or to attend the Great Taste of the Midwest. Still, I'd bet not all of those breweries up north are there.)

While most northern Wisconsin breweries see scant distribution here in the Madison area, beer from Ashland's South Shore Brewery regularly makes its way from the shores of Lake Superior to those of Lake Monona. South Shore began life as a brewpub in 1995 and eventually became a fully-fledged brewery. It took several years but their beers did eventually make the journey south to Madison in the early 2010s, if memory serves. At some point, distribution here stopped only to begin again at another time that is equally lost in the mists of time to me. Well, that's how I recall it, anyway. (I am almost certain that the 6-pack of their Inland Sea pilsner that I had in 2015 was purchased in Foster.)

Today I see their Nut Brown Ale and Rhoades' Scholar Stout around town. Ever since noticing their return to store shelves, they've been on my to-buy list. It's just that I'd always get distracted by other beers while at the store and whisper "Next time..." to myself as I grabbed a 6-pack of something else. Recently, however, I overcame my inclination to procrastinate and bought some of that stout.

Stouts have a reputation amongst many as being these thick, dark, heavy beers. Like motor oil. And there's something to this. I recall attending a Russian Imperial stout tasting back in 1994 or thereabouts here in Madison which was held in the basement of the Italian Workingmen's Club. As best I can recall, the event was hosted by the Madison Homebrewers and Tasters Guild. It was a wonderland of potent, stygian beers made by some of Madison's finest homebrewers. Bearded libation bearers proudly poured samples for the relatively (in contrast to any beer event today) small but eager crowd. My beer palate was rather inchoate at this point so I was not particularly familiar with the style and remember looking at my first sample thinking, "It looks like motor oil." I also recall thinking that these antidotes to sobriety were quite delicious. (My memories of the event get hazy after this.)

But those were the Imperial variety and your normal, workaday stout need not be redolent of Valvoline. Indeed, South Shore tries to head off viscous concerns at the pass with the description: "It’s everything a stout should be: rich, hearty, not thick or overpowering, and with a creamy head."

Rhoades' Scholar pours a deep, dark reddish brown and comes with a lovely tan head of loose foamy goodness that lasted what I think of as being an average length of time. The stuff was so dark as to be opaque but, if I held my glass to the light and at the right angle, it appeared clear. It had a sweet aroma redolent of milk chocolate, coffee, and plum. No wonder the brewery recommends it for dessert.

The marketing division of the South Shore Brewery didn't lie: this is a rich tasting beer. Some roasted graininess and a fair amount of dark, though not particularly bitter, chocolate were most prominent. Behind them was some coffee taste and a hint of stone fruit. (Note that plum I smelled.) It had a touch of sweetness as well.

That coffee taste really came to the fore on the finish and, as the grain flavors faded, a nice herbal bitterness shone through which added a firm dryness.

The marketing division of the South Shore Brewery was also telling the truth when they said that the beer wasn't thick or overpowering. It had a medium body and its viscosity didn't approach that of bubblin' crude. I found it to be quite flavorful with a firm fizziness helping keep the richness from becoming too much and adding a mild astringency.

My notes say "Great beer" and they don't lie. This is a wonderful treat from the North. It's jam-packed full of flavor but isn't thick or cloying. While I probably wouldn't choose this beer on a hot day, it was a perfect choice on a recent fall day.

To the best of my knowledge, a stout is/was simply a strong porter. Rhoades' Scholar has the requisite flavors and is 6.3% A.B.V. which seems stronger than a porter to me.

Junk food pairing: The marketing division of the South Shore Brewery says that Rhoades' Scholar complements desserts so pair it with a bag of Peanut Butter and Chocolate Muddy Buddies.

The Corona Diaries Vol 33: A Madison Idyll

Last winter I discovered that Madison is home to a Victorian-era garden. There's nothing surprising about some folks maintaining such a thing in town but I was confounded when I learned that it is just a stone's throw from the Capitol. And so, like the Schoenstatt Shrine from a couple entries ago, investigating this garden was added to my to-do list for warmer weather. I finally got around to it on a nice morning back in August.

I didn't know what to expect of a Victorian-era garden but, since I tend to filter life through movies, I had visions of Peter Greenaway's The Draughtsman's Contract. Would it be a well-appointed greenscape dotted with mini-obelisks and privet hedges trimmed and shaped to the highest topiary standards?

It's located in the Mansion Hill district which is so named because it features many mid-19^th century homes that were built by Madison's early elite. The old governor's mansion is there and dates to roughly 1855 so it's hardly surprising that such a garden is to be found in this area. I suppose it's a bit like the SafeHouse in Milwaukee - hidden in plain sight.

Back in the days of yore as a college student, I lived a couple blocks away for a year which makes my ignorance of it even more shameful. While I've been by it many times in the decades that I have lived here, it's rarely been on foot. When I lived nearby, my perambulations usually took me away from it and towards campus. Perhaps I simply never stopped to read the sign or had simply forgotten about its existence somewhere along the way. For as long as I can recall, I've just assumed that this little patch of green belonged to a law firm or other such organization that made of one of the old mansions its home and was keen on showing off with a luscious and verdant yard.

As I have conceded previously, I am awful when it comes to identifying plants and wandering the garden I saw all kinds of wonderful flowers and shrubs but recognized only 1 or 2 varieties. Because my Frau had pointed them out to me a couple weeks before on one of our walks, I felt a small sense of pride at being able to ID the Tiger lilies.

I walked around the fountain and ran into one of the many volunteers that cares for the gardens on the opposite side. She was seated on a bench and enjoying a moment of Arcadian bliss amidst the fruits of her labors. After noticing me, we struck up a brief conversation wherein she answered my questions about a couple varieties of flowers but I think I forgot their names 5 minutes later.

You can see just how close to the Capitol Square the park is in this photo. Lake Mendota is just a couple blocks in the opposite direction.

The garden was an oasis of peace and calm as the Dane County Farmers Market raged in the distance and people were going about their day enjoying the weather and the company of others, something largely denied them at this time last year.

I had been out on my bike for a few hours at this point and was not only enchanted by all of the lovely flora, but thankful to be able to take a breather and bask in some shade.

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The weekend after my stroll through Period Garden Park, my Frau and I headed up to Manitowoc on the shores of Lake Michigan. The occasion was a concert by Son Volt, the St. Louis band I have mentioned previously in these diaries. It was a free show that was part of the town's summer music festival. Plus it would be nice to simply get out of town and be somewhere else. Joining us was our friend Arch. He was going through a spot of personal turmoil so I tried to get him out and about instead of moping at home. Plus he too is a big Son Volt fan. Thankfully, he took me up on my offer.

We rolled into town in the afternoon and immediately set out to find a late lunch. Walking towards a local brewpub, we stumbled upon an exhibit of large format prints in an alley near the hotel.

It was put on by the local branch of the University of Wisconsin System and a nearby private college.

It had been a few years since I'd last seen Son Volt perform. Plus, I think this was the first concert I'd been to since the pandemic began. The band were in fine form out touring in support of a new album that I was growing to like more and more with each listen. We were able to get up close to the stage.

The band has been around since 1994 and they played a nice set with songs from most parts of their career, although I did lament the absence of any songs from Wide Swing Tremelo. Singer/guitarist/band leader Jay Farrar – he's on the left clad in black – is generally all business live. He normally doesn't talk a whole lot to the audience beyond a "Hello" and the occasional "Thanks" but this night he was more verbose than usual and he even made a joke about bratwurst.

After the show when we were chatting about it, Arch noted a couple songs that brought tears to his eyes. Not surprising considering some of the lyrics and events that were playing out in his life.

Tears welled in my eyes when they played "Tear Stained Eye". They always do. It's from their 1^st album, Trace, released in 1995 and so I have had a 25ish year relationship with those four minutes and 21 seconds. For most of the that time, the song is a rather plaintive country shuffle. Then towards the end, Farrar sings:

Like the man said, rode hard and put away wet

Throw away the bad news, and put it to rest

If learning is living, and the truth is a state of mind

You'll find it's better at the end of the line

And a hint of hopefulness springs forth from the sadness. (But just a hint.) It's a great song that I have listened to countless times and it has seen me through a few rough patches in my life when relationships have ended. It was also part of the soundtrack of my drive home up from Louisiana after my father had died as I sped north on I55 towards St. Louis with his ashes in the back seat.

Son Volt's first album was written and recorded during a time when Farrar drove between New Orleans and Minneapolis on Highway 61 frequently. (See my entry on Dubuque.) Several of his songs reference the St. Louis area and "Tear Stained Eye" has the line "Ste. Genevieve can hold back the water". Ste. Genevieve is a town south of St. Louis (on Hwy 61!) that faced a serious threat of flooding in 1993. My understanding is that the residents were basically plugging holes in the town's dikes with their fingers as the Mississippi threatened to wash the town away.

After the more melancholy song, they followed it up with the lovely, upbeat "Windfall" with its refrain of "May the wind take your troubles away."

On a recent episode of the Political Beats podcast, one of the hosts opined that "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac had entered the Great American Songbook. Honestly, I am not qualified to debate the merits of that claim. But it was a good reminder that the Songbook isn't set in stone and that additions didn't stop in the 1950s. While, for me, "Great American Songbook" conjures up the likes of Gershwin, Ellington, and Guthrie, it should include tunes from my lifetime. I would offer that "Windfall" and "Tear Stained Eye" should be included as well, if they are not already considered a part of it by the Songbook's gatekeepers.

Many diary entries ago I recounted my trip to Manitowoc in October of last year. Not long after I got home, I realized that I had forgotten to check out the landing site of a chunk of Korabl-Sputnik 1.

Launched on 15 May 1960, Korabl-Sputnik 1 was an unmanned spacecraft that allowed the Soviets to research space flight or whatever it was they were keen on learning about. When it came time to get the part that was supposed to return to Earth on a course to terra firma, there was a malfunction and it instead went into a higher orbit. It eventually decayed and the module fell Earthwards on 6 September 1962 with the vast majority of the craft burning up in the atmosphere. However, a chunk survived reentry and landed in the middle of 8^th Street.

That piece was eventually returned to the Soviets but a couple replicas were made and here's one of them:

This momentous occasion is marked by a ring in the middle of the street just north of the intersection with Park Street.

In addition to missing the Sputnik ring last fall, I also neglected to get a photo of a silo with the Chief Oshkosh Beer logo painted on it. The silo is just north of Fond du Lac, which is about 20 miles south of Oshkosh, but across Lake Winnebago from the beer's hometown. I've read somewhere that the logo had been painted on it decades ago and that the new paint job simply replicated the old one.

Chief Oshkosh was first brewed as a non-alcoholic "near-beer" during Prohibition. When that fiasco ended, it was transformed into a real beer. It survived until the early 1970s and hasn't been brewed since but I am sure someone owns the brand copyright which means it may return someday.

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Bonus photo time. I found a Twitter feed from Chicago a few months ago that posts photographs of turrets around the city on Turret Tuesdays. I thought it was neat idea and have started taking pictures of the turrets of Madison. Here is the only pink one in town. This building is home to a Cajun restaurant and, as far as I know, it has been a restaurant or supper club since it as long as anyone can remember.

Polskee Peevo: Nostrovia Grodziskie by Wisconsin Brewing Company

As a fan of smoke beers, I implore local brewers on this very blog to make more of them because they're almost as rare as hen's teeth in these parts. Generally speaking, though, my pleading is, as the Poles say, like throwing peas onto a wall. But brewers have better things to do than read my ramblings and who can blame them?

The Poles have another saying: hope is the mother of the stupid. And so rather than sitting around with my fingers crossed as the craft beer world became overwhelmed with IPAs back in 2012, I pestered Vintage Brewing Company's brewmaster, Scott Manning, because I wanted something special to drink when the Mayan calendar ended and the world turned into a Roland Emmerich film. He eventually surrendered and brewed his Grätzer Ale. "Grätzer" is the German word for Grodziskie, a Polish beer brewed with smoked wheat. The name comes from the Polish town Grodzisk Mazowiecki which used to belong to the Prussian Empire who called it Grätz, hence Grätzer.

I emailed noted punk rock aesthete and beer historian Ron Pattinson one time asking what the Grodziskie should taste like and he kindly replied, "smoky and hoppy, very well carbonated, too." "Smoky" and "hoppy" are two words I do not usually associate with Polish beers as pale lagers and Baltic porters seem to dominate the Polish brewing enterprise. And so, my interest in the Grodziskie was piqued by Pattinson's description. While certainly allowing for variation and interpretation, I generally expect any beer labeled "Grodziskie" (or "Grätzer", for that matter) to be smoky, hoppy, and fizzy.

Scott's take on the style was, to the best of my knowledge, the last one brewed here in the Madison area until earlier this year when I heard tell of a Grodziskie made by Madison's Working Draft Brewing. Unsurprisingly, I found that it was to have limited availability and I never got myself down to the brewery to try it. Bummer. The moral here is, as the Poles like to say, when bast can be torn, then tear it. Then a couple of weeks ago I saw that Wisconsin Brewing Company was offering one called "Nostrovia Grodziskie" as a limited release only in their taproom. Not wanting to miss out on the Precious again, I heeded the words of Steve Winwood who had a saying of his own - And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl when you see a chance, take it.

It was a rainy afternoon as I drove to the brewery where I was to meet a couple of my co-workers. I was feeling a bit giddy cruising down the road because I had noticed a Trachte shed that I'd never seen before a few seconds previously when suddenly

THUMP!

My fight or flight instinct kicked in and then I noticed a streak of red had formed on the left side of my windshield. What had I hit? Investigating a bit more closely, it appeared to be rather viscous. Ketchup. Someone in a passing car had thrown their dinner at me. As Voltaire once wrote, "We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other’s folly" and so I did and laughed it off.

I arrived at the brewery and met up with my fellow IT drones. We had a couple as we commiserated and used one another as an audience for jeremiads lamenting the capricious dictates of our tyrannical boss. I ended up going home with a crowler of the Grodziskie.

Nostrovia Grodziskie is a lovely straw color that reminded me of summer rather than the falling leaves and temperatures around us now here in Wisconsin. It was hazy too which is something I expect from wheat beers. My pour produced a lovely, frothy, white head that stuck around for a little while. There were few bubbles to be seen inside my glass. "Where is all the fizz?" I quietly asked my cat, Grabby, who was sitting on the table next to me. She had no answer beyond a big yawn of indifference to the plight of humankind so I plowed on and found that the beer had a lovely smoky aroma that wasn't quite as big as you get from a Schlenkerla beer.

The beer's paucity of bubbles belied a good, firm fizzy taste. While not to be mistaken with something from Schlenkerla, there was a nice smokiness to be had. Not overwhelming but not a token flavor relegated to a supporting role either. The beer's light body had a little wheat/grain flavor that brought with it a slight sweetness while a bit of lemony citrus held everything in check.

The smoke did a long fade on the finish while some grainy sweetness lingered. That lemony tang mixed with the fizz and a bit of herbal hoppiness to produce a mild, pleasant dryness.

Why this beer didn't see a tap until autumn is a shame. It's light body, relatively gentle smoke, and a citrus/fizz combo would have made this an ideal summer brew. Plus it's easy on the alcohol at 3.6% A.B.V. Still, I am glad that it reached my lips eventually. The server at WBC said that it was brewed by Kirby himself which was nice to hear. This doesn't seem to have been a thoroughly traditional take on the style as it did not have a big hop taste. Still, I greatly enjoyed the smokiness and its overall light touch.

Junk food pairing: Poles love their honey so grab a tube of Pringles Honey Mustard crisps to go with your Nostrovia Grodziskie.

The Corona Diaries Vol 32: Botanic Man

I love flora and appreciate its role in the ecosystem. I really do. While keeping flowers alive is a skill I do not possess, I enjoy looking at them, smelling their sweet scents. Trees. I love trees! They provide shade in the summer and leaves to clog my gutters in the autumn. Although it has been a while, I have tapped maple trees and boiled their sap until it was transmogrified into a delicious syrup. I am definitely pro-plant. I'm just not very good at identifying them.

In an attempt to remedy this situation, I went on a nature walk back in August at Owen Conservation Park on Madison's west side. I have walked it before but in the early spring and late autumn so I was looking forward to seeing the place in all of its verdant aestival glory. As a treat, there would be a naturalist leading a tour who specialized in the flora.

OK. Like an old BBC period drama, I am going to give you the ending up front: I cannot recall the names of most of the plants that the guide identified for us. I need a book or a recording of her commentary and to be tested on it so I can study for the exam and commit all of that botanical knowledge to memory.

The park was formerly the summer home & farm of a University professor named – quelle surprise! - Edward T. Owen. If you wander the western part of the park near the parking lot, you'll find the farm's root cellar and the terraces Owen had constructed. Today the fields are given over to savannah and prairie restoration.

There were yellow flowers everywhere and these I do recall the name of – Rudbeckia.

We learned that there were 3 types of this flower to be seen in the park but I cannot remember which variety this is. There were brown-eyed Susan, black-eyed Susan, and sweet brown-eyed Susan, if I recall correctly. I am not impressed with whomever came up with this bit of nomenclature as it is blatantly unhelpful to the budding floriculturist in distinguishing amongst the varieties.

Our guide pointed out some Goldenrod to the side of the trail and I think I caught a couple bugs mid coitus.

In addition to lots of yellow flowers, there was purple thistle everywhere. Its proper name escapes me but wouldn't be at all surprised if it was simply "Purple Thistle".

Apparently, the park is replete with whatever plant Monarch butterflies like to dine on because our guide noted how they can be seen every once in a while during the summer and then in greater numbers in September as they are migrating south to Mexico or wherever they go where it doesn't snow and polar vortices don't bring the temperature down to -60 degrees.

We saw some off in the distance.

Our guide noted that the park would have been inundated with Monarchs in September 30-40 years ago but today, you see more like 50, if you're lucky. I was completely unaware that their population is dwindling. That's the problem with these kinds of nature walks, you always learn about how we are carelessly destroying one habitat or another and thusly killing off creatures because we can't get enough McMansions and malls. And we get into our cars afterwards and drive off in a sulk as we exacerbate global climate change.

I have to look at the city parks calendar to see what walks are coming up. There could be a walk again through Owen but with someone who knows the fauna. Or perhaps a stroll through a different park with a mycologist who will point out all of the varieties of mushrooms and tell us which ones are edible and which ones will take you on a far-out psychedelic trip, man.

Speaking of psychedelics, I have read that it is a burgeoning area of research for treatment of psychological disorders such as depression. The university has just created the UW–Madison Transdisciplinary Center for Research in Psychoactive Substance where they seek to help people with careful administration of magic mushrooms or at least the psylocibin found therein. There is also a private company in town called the Usona Institute doing the same kind of research.

Well, no doubt you will hear about my next nature walk in a future entry.

There is a new book out that is of special interest to Wisconsinites.

It is a biography of Mildred Harnack, a Cheesehead who joined the resistance against the Nazis in Germany.

She was born in Milwaukee and studied at UW-Madison where she met her husband, Arvid Harnack in the 1920s. Harnack hailed from Germany and the pair moved there. They witnessed the rise of Hitler and were appalled and brave enough to join the resistance movement. The Harnacks helped Jews escape Germany and relayed intelligence to the Allies. In 1943 they were captured and executed. Mildred must have been a big thorn in the Nazi's side as she was beheaded at the direct request of Hitler himself.

Some members of the Madison media are frustrated with as well as laughing at larger media outlets that are reviewing the book. Many of these newspapers – usually on the coasts, of course – are portraying Donner's book as dragging Mildred's story from the dustbin of history and ignoring the scholarship that has already been done here in Wisconsin.

Mildred Harnack is not a particularly well-known figure, I grant you, but Donner's book is hardly the first time someone has told her story. Wisconsin Public Television did a show about her back in 2011.

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Bonus photos – a then & now set. Not a perfect match but good enough.

You're gonna need a bigger stange: Doppelsticke Altbier by Giant Jones Brewing

It would have been really neat had Madison's favorite purveyor of pantagruelian brews, Giant Jones, labeled this a mere Sticke Altbier and let a whisper campaign form amongst drinkers that brewmaster Jessica Jones had been extra generous and that it was, in fact, a Doppelsticke. On the other hand, Giant Jones only brews their Doppelsticke Altbier infrequently – a September-only release – so at least it has that element of tradition going for it.

I am struggling remember to the history of the altbier. It's an Obergäriges Lagerbier or top fermenting lager beer auf Englisch. It has this hybrid ale-lager persona because…because…something about northern German ales running into new laws imposed by lager-loving Bavarians after Germany became a country in the late 19th century and the brewers of Düsseldorf splitting the difference. They weren't quite ready to give up on the old ale styles but had to tweak things to conform to new laws. Maybe? Ron Pattison noted that Cologne once had laws that banned the production of bottom-fermenting beer and I wonder if altbier brewers labored under the same or similar laws. Or am I conflating the two styles?

Being from Wisconsin, laws dictating the production of beer are almost incomprehensible to me. Brewers can brew ales or lagers; they can sell it on Sundays; they can put in their brews whatever additive or adjunct they care to; they can brew a beer with whatever A.B.V. they like; and the beer tax hasn't been raised in my lifetime. So, when I read that it was illegal to brew bottom-fermented beer or that beer taxes were based on the original gravity of the wort, well, my mind reels. It seems that not only did a lot of beer history transpire the way it did because of the ingredients that were at hand, but also because brewers were looking to get around the law or avoid the taxman.

Perhaps the altbier was simply a result of changing tastes where "lager" attracted drinkers the way "hazy" does today. I can't recall.

Regardless, Düsseldorf got its altbier. Brewers are merely human like the rest of us and sometimes they deviate from the script. When they mismeasured their ingredients and ended up with a stronger than normal altbier, regulars would strike up a whisper campaign that the new batch was an even more potent potable. "Sticke" comes from "stickum", a word in a local dialect that means "whispering" and so these bigger altbiers became known as Sticke Altbiers.

The Doppelsticke is a double/imperial version of the Sticke Alt. I do see that one of the OG altbier brewers in Düsseldorf, Uerige, brews one but it is for the American market. (I love how Google's English translation of its description is "the yummy droplet".) I've never tasted it but I presume that it's über-malty with a very generous dose of hops.

Giant Jones (my progressive rock-addled brain keeps wanting me to type "Gentle Giant") brewed their Doppelsticke Altbier for the first time last summer for an episode of Wisconsin Foodie but it has since become an annual release in September.

My bottle was dated 9-22-21 so it was good'n fresh.

Most American altbiers that I've encountered seem to have been brown or amber ales that I suspect simply had a new label slapped on them and had never seen the inside of a lagering vessel. Not for long, anyway. Still, I had faith in Gentle Giant Jones and, this being a special occasion, it merited the use of an altbier glass.

My pour looked rather nice with some loose, just off-white head that sat atop the copper liquid. Thankfully the head had some staying power and I was actually able to get a photograph showing it off a bit. The beer was slightly hazy and the odd bubble could be seen here and there. Caramel was prominent on the nose but I also sniffed out some stone fruit which was cherry-like. Plus there was just a hint of smokiness.

Considering the paucity of bubbles I saw in the glass, the beer had a nice, firm fizziness to it. There was the requisite malt sweetness but it wasn't as big or overpowering as I thought it may be considering the "doppel" and the "sticke" parts of the name. Yeah, there was a lot of malt taste here but the sweetness was balanced with dryness and some astringency. Presumably the hops, which didn't have a strong taste at this point, countered some of the sweet flavors as did that fizz. I also tasted some roasty grain flavor and a touch of that cherry that I had smelled.

On the finish, I was able to taste the spicy, Nobley hops and their bitterness was allowed to come to the fore. Like the malt, you couldn't miss the hops here but they didn't overwhelm. The bitterness gave way to dryness which mixed with the booze – it's 9.6%. I caught a trace of malty sweetness but that faded rather quickly.

This was a very tasty beer. The best part of it for me was how the fizz and hops played against all of that malt. They did their job perfectly. The beer had a rich malt taste but also a nice dryness which laid the sweetness to rest at just the right point.

Junk food pairing: With a beer fit for Gargantua himself, grab yourself one of those giant pretzels that's equivalent to a couple loaves of bread and apply nacho cheese food sauce liberally.