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I spent most of my time contending with Goose Island's own offerings, which numbered about a dozen and included no fewer than five varieties of their world-class Bourbon County Stout. The vanilla edition—which I tried first, remembering the unearthly vanilla-bean Dark Lord from DLD 2008—was boozy and flat as oil, with notes of milk caramel, pralines, and roasted hazelnut. Next came a revamped version of the Crop to Cup espresso stout Rind Grind: originally brewed with Meyer lemon peel, it'd been juiced up with additions of whole honey tangerines, green coriander, chamomile, and Citra hops. The herbs and hops gave it a cool, almost spearminty flavor, woven into the taste of lemon espresso. Among the more audacious stouts I sampled, it was by far the most successful.
Goose Island's only miss was a dry stout called Irish Rose. Brewed with cherries and mint, it sounded promising, but I couldn't pick out cherries or mint—it actually tasted slightly soapy, which I'm sure was just a trick of my palate but which nonetheless spoiled the beer for me. I moved on to the blueberry Bourbon County Stout, which if not my favorite beer of the day was definitely the most pleasant surprise—blueberries and whiskey are not a pairing one often encounters in the wild, so I was skeptical at first. Served at maybe 55 degrees, it smelled like a pie that had just finished cooling, and the flavor had an explosively juicy berry note up front, fat and plummy like a Beaujolais. That faded into burnt brown sugar, bourbon, and oaky vanilla, and the finish was cleanly tart and fruity again, unusual for a stout. This could've been the power of suggestion, but I swear I picked up a whisper of pastry crust underneath it all. Goose Island brewmaster Greg Hall has been aging beers in barrels since 1992, three years before the company started bottling, and it shows.
According to brewing manager Tom Korder, Goose Island has no plans to bottle the blueberry Bourbon County—it'd be extremely expensive for them to brew commercially, since to balance the fruit against the dense, powerful flavor of the base stout they have to use enough blueberries to sink a battleship. However the vanilla Bourbon County will be bottled toward the end of the year, and the coffee version—which blends its flavors and aromas so perfectly it reminds you why people must've started putting whiskey in coffee in the first place—should hit shelves later this month. Also scheduled for late 2010 is a limited Bourbon County Stout aged in barrels that Korder says previously held 26-year-old Pappy Van Winkle. That's a whiskey that goes for hundreds of dollars a bottle at 23 years old, so these are special barrels indeed. There's more information on the brewery's release calendar.
I also tried Goose Island's milk chocolate stout and the rye-barreled Bourbon County (hastily renamed "Cook County Stout" on the table sign), but in the interests of fairness I'm gonna move on to some of the other brewers.
Revolution Brewing brought their Black Power Oatmeal Stout, its tap handle a huge black fist emblazoned with the six-pointed red star of the company's logo. The beer had a plush, sexy head and a kick of molasses in the nose, and bright, peppery hops (Magnum and Celeia, among others) rode atop its mellow oatmeal flavors—I usually think of oatmeal stouts as "comfort" beers, but this one's lively and assertive.
Half Acre's imperial stout, Big Hugs, was intensely roasty and bitter, with an almost fruity nose and a red-wine spiciness up front. The bourbon-barreled cherry imperial stout from the Roundhouse in Aurora had a pleasantly sinus-clearing aroma, full of sharp, sour fruit, and the flavor followed suit—tart, tannic, and roasty. Captain Fantasy, a beer from the Lombard Rock Bottom that I confess I picked just on account of its name (hello, Ween!), turned out to be hopped up like Night Stalker, though it was a bit thinner and less intense.
My last beer of the day was Abduction, by a brand-new local brewer called Pipeworks. They aren't strictly speaking in business yet—they're looking at a couple locations in Garfield Park, and hope to be selling beer in six to nine months—but they clearly already know what they're doing. Abduction has a long, complex profile that covers an amazing range of the flavors that a stout can have: hoppy and sweet up front, toasty and molasses-rich in the finish, with a tangle of notes in between that remind me of honey roasted peanuts, burnt toffee, and Kansas City barbecue. Look out for Pipeworks!
From there, after a stop at Binny's to buy as many 22-ounce bottles of Night Stalker as I could carry, it was on to Subterranean for the godly Harvey Milk. Thus was completed a full day of Stuff Mostly Dudes Like.