Beeramisu with Great Divide Oak-Aged Yeti Imperial Stout

I know, I know, what sort of a guy am I if I can't finish a bottle of Great Divide Oak-Aged Yeti Imperial Stout in one sitting? And more to the point, isn't 'beeramisu' the sort of thing that starts out as a play on words, and then someone thinks "hang on, I'll give that a go"?

The Yeti was left over after opening it the previous night to go with pudding - hot chocolate fondant and vanilla ice cream. The missus unexpectedly asked for a glass of stout, and I like to oblige, so it was opened anyway. I was fairly sure that I wouldn't finish it - it was the fourth beer I'd opened that evening, so I hoped that I wouldn't be finishing it on my own. And in my experience, these big beers tend to stand up to being left open overnight.

It was a delicious match, as American imperial stouts tend to carry a bit more residual sugar and seem a bit sweeter than any others. The oak ageing is apparent, not so much as a toasted vanilla flavour, but as a slightly wild edge. My note for it says "Black and unctuous. Creamy chocolate espresso on the nose, with a slightly wild note. Huge, sweet on palate, berry fruits (?) , liqueur-like – stands up very well to chocolate deserts with ice cream – but on its own, massive, complex, bittersweet and slightly funky. Huge, absurd, but very enjoyable. Persistent bitterness."

Beeramisu has been on the list of things to try for a while, and so I didn't feel bad about leaving half the bottle, In fact, I felt pretty damn good about it, as I knew it was going to make a great dessert. If youve never made this, give it a go - it's very simple, and doesn't require any fancy skills other than plenty of elbow grease.



Beeramisu

You'll need: a pack of finger biscuits, two eggs, 200g mascarpone, 50g caster sugar (I used unrefined for a slightly vanilla edge), two eggs, and some imperial stout - the bigger the better.

Put a layer of finger biscuits in a shallow bowl, and add enough imperial stout to make them soft, but not too sloppy. They will soak up a surprising amount, so do this in stages.

Separate the yolks and whites of the eggs, and beat the caster sugar with the yolks until creamed. Beat the mascarpone into the creamed egg yolks. Clean the whisk, and then beat the whites until they reach soft peak stage - gently creamy, just stiff, but not yet lumpy. Fold the creamed yolks and the stiff whites together, and when they are a uniform mixture, pour over the stout-sodden base.

Top with cocoa powder or grated chocolate. Chill for 30 minutes, or anything up to 4 hours, and serve with more of the same imperial stout.

Sam Adams Imperial Stout with Baked Vanilla Cheesecake

This sort of joins up with the post from 10 days ago, in that it's another imperial stout, and I'm having to plough through the cellar at the moment and try to finish up some of the beers that I want to drink while there is still snow on the ground (and in Leeds today, we have about 3 inches on the ground).

I could have paired this with any of 4 or 5 imperial stouts, but the Sam Adams one leapt out at me, mainly by being at the front of the shelf. Sam Adams produce a huge range of beers, but the only one we see regularly here is their Boston Lager, imported by Shepherd Neame. Despite a few phone calls and a bit of gentle cajoling, it seems as though Sheps aren't going to import anything but Boston Lager in the near future. A shame, but there we go.

The imperial stout is part of Sam Adams' Imperial series - basically, smaller runs of bigger beers for the more niche end of the market. It's a great departure for a big and successful brewer, and makes you wonder why more people don't do something similar. It puts me in mind of Carlsberg's response to the burgeoning microbrewing scene in Denmark - they just started brewing characterful small batch beers, which were embraced by the Danish beer geeks.

The match of imperial stout and vanilla cheesecake isn't rocket science. Both the beer and the dessert are fairly big and chewy, with similar textures, but contrast hugely on the flavour front. But although they contrast, they also highlight the commonalities - the lovely rich creamy vanilla quality in both of them. As you'd expect, the imperial stout is stuffed full of chocolate and espresso character, very clean and slickly executed, as all Sam Adams' beers tend to be.

It's a big gutsy pairing, not something to eat at the end of a large meal. We had this after a fairly light supper, and in calorific terms, it was the bigger half of the meal. It makes perfect sense to me - go easy on the salad to leave plenty of room for dessert and an impy.



POSTSCRIPT: I had another chunk of cheesecake a few nights later with a Stone Russian Imperial Stout, which is a much bigger, wilder beast altogether - lots more burnt and smoky notes going on than in the Sam Adams. If anything, this wildness made it an even better match.

1992 Courage Russian Imperial Stout and Three Floyds Dark Lord

This is a bit of an unfair comparison. One of these beers is an icon, a classic that has spent the last 18 years settling down in the bottle, slowly maturing, integrating, ageing gracefully. The other bottle is almost alarmingly fresh, still full of the fire of the brew kettle, and the bright spiky edges of the copious amount of ingredients (conventional and otherwise) that have been crammed into the bottle.

If that sounds a tad flowery, it's because I'm skirting round the issue of trying to compare the two. The reason they are both in the same video is that Rob from hopzine.com (@BGRTRob on Twitter) very generously shared them with me, and obviously I wanted to document both of them. So rather than making a ludicrous comparison, lets address them separately.

The Courage Imperial Stout (I think this one was brewed by John Smith, hence the rather clumsy "Courage Smiths" in the video) isn't a beer I've had before. I've seen it eBay many times, and on the showing of this bottle, I'm sad that I haven't scooped a few more of them up. Although I'm not a huge fan of really old beers, this imperial stout was in a good place, balancing the intense, empyreumatic character of a proper imperial stout with the gentle attrition of time. All the rough edges have been smoothed off, leaving a core of dark fruit, undergrowth, rich dark tobacco and a little meaty, soy-sauce character. It also has some port wine notes, some old sweet sherry character, and these are all characteristics that you only get in older beers. You can't fake it, or cheat it, it's just the effects of old age.

The Three Floyds Dark Lord is a modern icon. We have a regular customer at the shop, an American beer geek named Geoff (he'd be proud to be known as such, I'm sure), and when I told him that I'd hard a bottle of Dark Lord, he excitedly asked "Oh my god, did you cream? That's supposed to be amaaazing!". I have to say that I didn't achieve a peak of sexual excitement from drinking the Dark Lord, but it is an exhilarating beer. Just the sheer volume of flavour is one thing, and the intensity of the separate flavours is another - espresso, bitter chocolate, honey, black treacle (molasses), pepper, and some winter spice notes. It's a huge bruiser of a beer compared to the faded glory of the Courage Imperial, but not doubt over time it will achieve the same grace and elegance.

At the time of writing, the thrill of drinking such an exalted beer as Dark Lord is still with me, but it's the incredible soft, voluptuous range of flavours in the Courage Imperial that springs most easily to mind.