I missed my goal of writing three anniversary beers over three nights of the July 4th weekend—the country’s 240th anniversary. But I needed to get my regular calendar listing out. And over the weekend, I realized that I, who was a high school kid during the Bicentennial, just might be looking forward to the USA’s 250th anniversary. There should be a committee out there now to plan for it, especially to decide what to call it? Wikipedia says the Latin would be “Sestercentennial,” meaning “half-three,” or halfway to a tricentennial. Institutions who’ve been through that landmark have used “Semiquincentennial,” “Bicenquinquagenary,” and “Quarter-millennial.” I’m fussing now because how can plan a party if we don’t know what to call it? An overthinker’s day is never done.
Anyway, I’m following up my Previews of Shiner 107th Birthday Beer and of Lagunitas Lucky 13 (in its 10th Anniversary), with Surly Brewing Co.’s Ten. Again, in the interest of disclosure, these are beers that have been sent to me for my comment.
Surly has been one of those new brewers that have burst new bubbles and kicked new butts in their brief existence, starting with Omar Ansari, who talked his parents into converting their abrasives business into a brewery. He hooked up with brewer Todd Haug, and they brewed their first commercial batch on December 30, 2005, for delivery the next year. Only 16 months after selling the first keg (of Furious IPA), Surly was named Best Brewery in America by Beer Advocate magazine. By 2008, they had reached the Chicago area beer market.
Besides the usual heavy metal attitude and a fixation on hoppy IPAs, Surly has paid attention to session ales, coffee beers, and even made its Three anniversary beer a braggot–a mead with barley malt added. So it’s not surprising that they went off the track for their Ten, brewing an Old Ale: a robust and malty ale, not quite on the level of an imperial stout. As Old Ales are usually aged in wood, so too was this beer aged on “toasted sassafras” wood. And for the heck of it, the bottle arrives sealed with glow-in-the-dark wax.
Right upon the pour, I can see that this beer should be enjoyed now, unless you have extra bottles to lay down. The malt is quite strong on the nose, and the sassafras in the smell could turn to a “medicinal” phenol in a few years time. You’ll only see the foam right after you pour, as it settles down quickly, like most strong beers (this one is 10.5% abv).
No phenol in the taste, though. It’s a throwback to certain barley wines, with a lighter roast malt, and not as much hops as some barley wines start with. I thought the aging on sassafras would give it kind of a root beer patina, but luckily that’s only in the smell and it’s not that much present on the palate. Rather than the sherry the label proclaims, I’m looking at a light bourbon texture, with the wood adding a touch of vanilla. The brewing process also uses invert sugar (sucrose reduced into glucose and fructose, making it more fermentable, but there is plenty of sweetness remaining that could further ferment out if there’s any yeast left in the bottle. But as I pour the past bit from the bottle, I found that the bottom is clean, so there is likely not much yeast left to alter the taste.
As with any big beer in a big bottle, I had a great time drinking it while writing about it. Now that I’ve cleared all the beers I’ve been sent to talk about, I’m hoping to get into some regular reviews of local beers. Or I’ll tape a vlog drinking that “dog” I promised I’d “shoot” once I hit 500 like on my Facebook page. Yes, I’m talking about a beer, not a real dog.
