Pope Crisco: Saint Arnold Brewing Co. Winter Stout

Howdy all, quick question, what common tie exists between NHL super-star Gordie Howe and Texas craft beer?

Ready for the answer? The Houston Aeros signed Howe in ’73, allowing him to fulfill a dream of playing hockey with his two sons, and this April, Houston’s own Saint Arnold Brewery will be hosting the 10th annual get together for enthusiasts of craft beer and Aeros’ hockey that will include a pregame meet up at the brewery, group seating for an Aeros’ game, and post game wind down at a local pub (click here for details.)

While I don’t have an opportunity to join the people of Houston for this event, something that I am truly disappointed about, I do have the opportunity to join them in the enjoyment of the quality beer produced by St. Arnold. This afternoon I have decided to crack open a few bottles of this brewery’s Winter Stout.

Pouring the beer, which is a “tweaked” result of a home brew competition promoted by the brewery in the late 90s, the stout is a dark brown, almost, but not quite black, body, while a slight ruby color can be seen in the edges of the pint glass. Atop the body of the beverage, the head is a nice, light tan hue. As strongly as the head forms with a semi-aggressive pour, it is a tad disappointing to see it die down quickly to less than the width of a dime.

Putting my olfactory glands to work, I experience the aromas of bread, the malty sweetness of candy sugars and caramel, balanced by coffee and roasted aromas.

Taking my first sip, the wet, medium bodied beverage rushes the palate with a mélange of honey, candy and caramel flavors. On the back of the palate roasted coffee flavor and bitterness, displaying light floral and woody accents, rounds out the malt bomb on the front end.

The best way to describe this beer would be as a unique interpretation on the style, from an equally unique brewery. This is a wicked little wrister that goes top shelf.

Cheers to Texas craft beer, and to Texas Hockey.

I brew and drink beer, smoke pipes and cigars, eat till I’ve had more than my fill, and escape in pulp rags till my eyes turn buggy. I don’t claim any expertise in any subject other than the chase of my own earthly pleasures. I write to help others find their own pleasures so that together we will decay in spirit with these lesser pursuits.