When I think of Baltic Porter, I think of crusty, disheveled 17th century fellows sitting at a tavern in Gdańsk on the shores of the Baltic Sea reminiscing about the good ol' days of the Hanseatic League and bitterly lament how the Atlantic trade with its cheap goods from America has just ruined everything. Over flagons of this hearty brew, they revel in the glory days when Finns traded saunas for Latvian pickled herring, the Germans traded their artisanal salt to the Swedes for potash in order to make industrial strength beer glasses, and the Poles offered honey and rye in exchange for silk for all the lovely Polish ladies to wear.
Also when I think of Baltic Porter, I think of a pitch black brew that looks like motor oil when poured into a glass. And it has a viscous feel to it when drank. A nice, full body. (Hint hint. Nudge nudge. Say no more! Say no more!) You know, Baltika #6 and the stuff from Żywiec. But when your Baltic Porter is just a hair from 10% A.B.V. like Żywiec's or Third Space, maybe it's become a Russian Imperial Stout. Baltika #6, on the other hand is only 7%. Looking at other Polish porters - Baltic Porter is a Polish invention, as I understand it - I see 7-8%.
I was thrilled to be able to find some Baltic-style porter from Dovetail on a recent trek to Chicagoland as I just don't recall seeing any here in Madison. It is my impression that it's their late fall specialty, something to enjoy with the cooler autumn temperatures now that you've drunk all of your Festbier and are impatiently waiting on Jenny Pfäfflin to get that Holiday Bock out of the lagering tanks.
The label said it was 6.6% A.B.V. which was less potent than the Okacim Porter which lines Polish store shelves throughout Chicago while being significantly easier going than Żywiec Porter which is 9.5%.
Whatever strength a Baltic Porter may be, it will always be like a black hole in your glass. If you had giant glass vat of the stuff, you could stand behind it and no one would be able to see you. A fine beery hiding spot. My pour produced a lovely, but fast-fading, dollop of tan foam atop the Stygian suds. In addition to looking like its brethren, it smelled just as expected too with coffee and dark chocolate at the fore with a honeyed sweetness and something green bringing up the rear.
The medium-heavy body tasted somewhat restrained and did not simply make my tongue feel as if I had accidentally sipped from a quart of Valvoline. A firm fizziness probably helped. I tasted coffee, dark chocolate, raisin, and a little caramel while a herbal hoppiness proved to be just the right amount to balance those malty flavors. The coffee, chocolate, and mild sweetness lingered on the finish until the hops mustered just enough gumption for a bit of dryness here and a smidge of bitterness there.
Dovetail did a very, very nice job here as this is great stuff. The coffee and chocolate flavors were positively delicious and they didn't have that ostentatious look-at-all-the-black-malt-we-used-here bitterness. And it was hopped perfectly. Enough counterpoint to the roasty flavors but without trying to steal the show. I loved how it was as full-flavored as any counterpart yet, unlike some, one of these just isn't enough to last you throughout Advent.
Junk food pairing: Grab a bag of Utz's Pumpernickel Pretzel sticks and a big jar of spicy mustard for dipping to go with Dovetail's finest.
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