Last year, when it was much warmer than it is now, I saw that the Parched Eagle here in Madison had a ryewine, a cousin of the English barleywine, on offer. I love rye so of course I headed over there and bought some. But, if brewmaster/ proprietor Jim Goronson thinks I am going to drink a big (10%), treacly, maltfest of a brew in the baking heat of a Wisconsin summer, he is out of his mind. The brave(/crazy) English explorers saved the big brews like Allsopp's Arctic Ale for when they were up in the godforsaken wastes of northern Canada. At home they surely drank the milds, bitters, or whatever brews of lesser potency as they argued in drawing rooms about the location of the Northwest Passage, shot random footmen for sport, and other such activities favored by the English aristocracy at the time. So I cellared a bomber of the stuff to be retrieved when the Fimbulwinter had settled upon us. On a recent winter's day, the high never reached double digits and so it was the perfect weather for the heady, rye-laced elixir.
In addition to ryewines, there is the aforementioned barleywine, but I have also seen wheatwines.
"So," you're thinking, "how can a beer be a wine?"
I recall being similarly perplexed back in c. 1992 when I encountered my first barleywine, Old Nick. But I was intrigued as well. And how can you go wrong with a picture of the Devil (or was it Machiavelli?) himself on the label? The explanation I was offered then and continue to labor under now is that these grain-wines are simply very strong ales that have alcohol levels approaching that of wine. Now, exactly how much wheat or rye is required to be branded a wheat- or ryewine is unknown to me. I suppose as much as the brewer wants.
To the best of my knowledge, the barleywine is English in origin but it's more of a marketing term and not a distinct style per se like the double dry hopped barrel aged milkshake IPA with vanilla and cocoa nibs is. I suppose there's a whole taxonomic rabbit hole to go down regarding what exactly constitutes a "strong ale". English beer historians such as Martyn Cornell will no doubt offer a definition that differs from that given by ignorant bloggers like me. I generally think of these grain-wines as being 10%+ A.B.V. and brownish in color. Yeah, not exactly a model of precision here, I know. Oh, and American versions - quelle surprise! - are usually hoppier than English ones.
About 30 seconds of internet searching revealed that the wheatwine is supposedly an invention of the late 1980s and hails from California. I find the idea that British brewers never made a strong ale with wheat unlikely but, then again, I am no Martyn Cornell. I found nothing on the question of the genesis of the ryewine. With rye being much more prevalent and desirable in northern and eastern Europe, I am doubtful that the ryewine originated in Ol' Blighty and find it likely to be another American invention. But stranger things have happened.
It was a chilly afternoon indeed when I poured the first glass of Ryme & Punishment. There was no head to speak of which I suppose wasn't surprising considering this was an English-style brew or English-style-adjacent, at least. But my glass was filled with an absolutely gorgeous elixir that was a deep amber and clear. Watching the beer flow, it just looked thick and viscous and by its appearance alone one could tell it was a heady brew. Taking a whiff, I caught a prominent raisin smell along with big malty sweetness and slightly less of a generic grainy scent.
Remember how I said above that this stuff looked thick as it flowed into my snifter? Well, it tasted that way. This beer had a heavy body - just as expected - almost syrupy. Despite the paucity of bubbles, I still tasted a light fizziness but it was unable to hold its own against the rich, grainy sugariness that had a plum-like flavor to it. There was also that spicy rye to be had. Mmmm...great stuff. I was unsurprised when that sweetness lingered after I swallowed but a measure of herbal/spicy hops added welcome dryness. It was this point that some boozy heat kicked in and wrapped my tongue in its burning folds for a bracing conclusion.
What a fantastic winter warmer/strong ale/whatever you call these kinds of beers! It was thick and sweet yet the hops and booze (10% A.B.V.) kept it from being cloying. I should add that this was a pleasantly smooth beer. However, I didn't taste Ryme & Punishment fresh so I am unsure how much of this was inherent in the brew and how much, if any, can be attributed to my mad cellaring skillz.
Sadly, we will likely have to wait until the coming warmer months for another batch of this stuff. But, when it's on offer, do avail yourself of the opportunity to get some to stow away until next winter.
Junk food pairing: I am a believer in pairing locally so grab some jalapeno cheddar potato chips from Madison's finest chip purveyor, Slide.
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