Nobody trusts anybody now, and we're all very thirsty: Snowstorm '21 - Oat Starkbier by August Schell Brewing

Back in November I made a trek up north and stopped in at a small-town liquor store which proudly proclaimed that it had a fine selection of craft beers. Maybe the finest in all of Barron County. This seemed ideal for my purposes which were simply to find some kind of boreal beer to help keep the soreness in my legs at bay after a long and strenuous (for an office drone) hike. I don't know if those IPAs on the shelves were meant for Twin Cities/Chicago tourists and were novelties for the locals or if the folks up north are into those beers. For my part, I rolled my eyes at all the hazy juicy thingies. Just not interested.

And so Schell's latest Snowstorm was a very welcome sight. I don't see much Schell's beer down here in Madison these days so it was a bit like running into an old friend. "Snowstorm" is the name of their winter seasonal but the actual style of the beer varies from year to year. Oats seem to be the watchword of the brewery these days as last year's Snowstorm was an oat stout while this year's is an oat Starkbier. In fact, if you pull a Scooby Doo maneuver and peel the label off of a 2021 can, you'll see that it's an oat stout 2020 can underneath. 

Everyone knows what oats are but what is a Starkbier?

I think it's a now-defunct German beer tax category but I am not sure if the term was ever used outside of levying taxes on brewers. It means "strong beer" but, again, I am unclear on just how strong it had to be to be classified as such. Was it equivalent to a bock? Doppelbock?

…

So, after some internet sleuthing it seems that my memory served me well. Starkbier was indeed a tax category for German bier. My cursory search didn't yield firm results on just how strong it had to be, however. By "strong" here we're talking the OG, i.e. – the amount of malty sugar goodness in the liquid in its pre-beer state. Still, exactly which styles fell under this umbrella remains a mystery. A couple sources here include all bocks while another over there limits it to doppelbocks.

I suppose it's moot as the tax category is long gone and Schell instead uses the term to invoke all the good things that come to mind when you see a German beer word. You know, like the image of some blond guys in Lederhosen gathered around a copper kettle in an orderly manner using precise techniques honed over the centuries in pursuit of brewing perfection within the constrictions of the Purity Law. Or perhaps it's more along the lines of comely blonde women clad in dirndls carrying numerous steins of beer as their generous bosoms threaten to spill out of their costumes.

My can says that Snowstorm has an A.B.V. of 6.1% so we have an oat bock on our hands. Interesting. I don't know that I've ever had one before.

Beer lore tells us that the genesis of the bock goes back several hundred years to Einbeck, Germany. Initially a big, malty ale, it eventually made its way south where Bavarian brewers gave it the lager treatment. This same body of lore purports that the style's name comes from the way Bavarians pronounced the bier's hometown. Instead of a short -e, they said it like "ah" – "ein Bock". "Bock" being the word for billy goat, someone back in the day decided that goats would be standard on the labels of such beers.

I wouldn’t be surprised if any or all of the above is merely a tall tale that's been passed down through the ages. But it sounds good.

Oddly enough, the marketing team at a brewery that has a German name, brews many German styles, and has (or had) the motto "German craft beer" decided to remove the goat from their bock's label. Harumph.

Things started off very well – I mean, just look at it. The beer was a clear, deep amber upon which sat a big, light tan crown of firm foam. I spied a fair number of bubbles inside. Quite pretty. As expected, there were sweet scents – caramel and little honey. There was also the anticipated roasty grain smell. But what I really enjoyed was the hop aroma which was grassy. Those hops gave a really fresh, green aroma. Simply wonderful.

All those bubbles provided a good fizziness that was set against a rich maltiness that provided, as on the nose, caramel, honey, and roasted grain flavors. The oats did their job as a luscious smoothness lurked beneath the bubbles. The malty sweetness faded fast as I swallowed leaving my tongue to wallow in the dryness of some hops that were peppery and grassy. My sips each ended on rather dry note.

Despite a panoply of grains, the beer wasn't as sweet as I thought it would be. I think the fizz and the hops kept those flavors from getting out of hand. In addition, the malt flavor wasn't just sweetness that needed to be tamed. There was, after all, that earthy honey taste as well as the roasted grain flavor so it was a really nice mix on the malt side of things. Dryness prevailed on the finish as the hops provided a bracing contrast to the grains.

While sipping this stuff, I was reminded of one of my favorite winter brews, Winter Skål, from Capital. Oat Starkbier is akin to a bigger, oatier version of that fine beer. I really enjoyed this brew and how the fizz and hops took the grains head-on to produce a crisp contrast.

The final couple months of 2021 were good for bocks that marched to the beat of a different drummer. In addition to this oat-laden version, Wisconsin Brewing Company gave us a wild rice one while Vintage Brewing blessed us again this year with their rye weizenbock, Tippy Toboggan. Perhaps next year someone will use a heritage barley or something out of left field like quinoa.

Junk food pairing: For the true Minnesota experience, bust open a bag of Uffda! Seasoned Salt Lefse Chips to go with your Snowstorm.