After writing up some nice Irish Stouts and Red Ales (and Lagers), I wanted to come back to the granddaddy of them all. I can’t really let a St. Patrick’s Day—and in Chicago, it’s never just a “day”—go by without having had at least one Guinness, poured from a nitro tap in a proper setting. So I want to start a personal tradition.
This year, it’s a Guinness Draught at Ballydoyle of Downers Grove. It’s during their Family St. Patrick’s Day celebration. The place is packed with families. Some of the kids are in Irish dance outfits, being as the Trinity Irish Dance Academy once had a classroom there, that’s since moved to Elmhurst; but the McNulty Irish Dancers also have classrooms nearby. There’s a live band on stage playing whiskey songs while some of the kids are dancing on the stage; maybe they’re the band’s kids. Despite the crowd, it’s a friendly atmosphere; few to no 20-somethings in giant green felt hats or oversized shamrock shaped glasses. And no green beer. Of course I have no photos of the crowd, I could only have been able to hold the camera over my head and hope for the best.
The busy barkeep still took her time pouring, the indication of a nitro tap. The glass was a proper stout thistle, but it had a Smithwick’s logo on it. But that’s okay, it only broke the mood of my amateur food photo, and besides, Sithwick’s is another brand owned by Guinness’ corporate parent, Diageo, and also made in Dublin. The pour showed a creamy ecru head. The smell is a little light, befitting a session beer. Once the foam settled slightly and I could pick up the glass, I could discern a nose of a slight bit of roasty malt. The taste is itself creamy, not flat as many might think, but with tiny notes of fizz from the nitrogen bubbles, that settles into the overall texture. In the back of the sip is that very faint “Essence of Guinness.” The “Essence” is shipped from Ireland to Guinness plants all over the world, and is supposedly a secret guarded as closely as the X-7 in Coca-Cola. Most aficionados are certain its a concentrate of “staled” beer added to the fresh beer, as in the old tradition. A bit of sourness in just the right proportion that sets this beer apart from any Irish style stout. It picks up a little more roastiness as my draught nears completion. Even when finish, the glass shows the visual appeal of its “legs,” the coat of foam left behind from a combination of a fine head and a clean glass. This one may be a bit cooler than most Irish pub crawlers would like, but let's accept that it comes from a call or keg that's sharing a space with other beers on the draft tower.
My hope is that this article will not provoke nostalgia for the “original” in the near future. For the past several years, we’ve gotten our Guinness from Dublin, though not directly from the original St. James’ Gate. Now Guinness announced that will be brewing again in America, after 63 years, at a new plant to be built in Baltimore. We’d hope the coming to us in the future will be indistinguishable from what we get now, but somehow there is a difference. Perhaps the plant might focus on Guinness’ brand extensions, like the Blonde Lager that’s already being made at the City Brewery in LaCross. Time will tell.
