Lessons From a 25-Year-Old Beer
Last night a group of friends and I cracked open the first bottling of Old Knucklehead from BridgePort--a beer dating back to 1989. Back in the day, Old Knucklehead (OK) was a wonderful tradition. The brewery honored a local codger (some famous, some not) by putting his visage on a little nip bottle. It combined localness, particularity, and tradition all in one lovely little package. (The brewery would do well revive the tradition, methinks. It's hyper local tradition and wouldn't account for many barrels in absolute terms, but it would get a ton of press and continue a beloved tradition. It's also perfect for the social media age.)
I have no idea who's on that first bottle--I think it was a regular at the old brewery. Labeling standards were different then (no government warning, for instance), and the ABV isn't listed. If memory serves, OK was a relatively low-alcohol barley wine--nine percentish. All of which made analyzing it more dependent on what our senses could tell us.
One thing you could tell right away was the clarity--even in the bottle. That was a good sign. When we cracked it, the bottle let out a nice pssst, and bubbles sprang to the surface. Old Knucklehead was bottle-conditioned, and there was a thick layer of now-black yeast at the bottom. Bottle conditioning is great for aging beers in the shorter term--the yeast harvests oxygen while refermenting in the bottle. But it also raises the risk of autolysis (yeast cell degradation).
Twenty-five years is a long time, but amazingly, the beer had little flavor of autolysis and also not a ton of oxidation. For those who like the effect of oxidation on high alcohol beers, this was an argument for the prosecution. A tinge of paper, but mostly a rich, sherry-like note. There were no hops left, but the beer was not overly sweet. Some bread pudding and raisin, but balanced by the sherry note.
The beer probably would have been better a decade or two earlier, but it was still surprisingly fresh and tasty. People often ask me how long you can store beer before it's a lost cause, and I've always been reluctant to answer. My data set--like most people's--is not flush with examples. But 25 years is quite a test. And this bottle, which was well cared-for in that quarter-century, held up remarkably well.
I have no idea who's on that first bottle--I think it was a regular at the old brewery. Labeling standards were different then (no government warning, for instance), and the ABV isn't listed. If memory serves, OK was a relatively low-alcohol barley wine--nine percentish. All of which made analyzing it more dependent on what our senses could tell us.
One thing you could tell right away was the clarity--even in the bottle. That was a good sign. When we cracked it, the bottle let out a nice pssst, and bubbles sprang to the surface. Old Knucklehead was bottle-conditioned, and there was a thick layer of now-black yeast at the bottom. Bottle conditioning is great for aging beers in the shorter term--the yeast harvests oxygen while refermenting in the bottle. But it also raises the risk of autolysis (yeast cell degradation).
Twenty-five years is a long time, but amazingly, the beer had little flavor of autolysis and also not a ton of oxidation. For those who like the effect of oxidation on high alcohol beers, this was an argument for the prosecution. A tinge of paper, but mostly a rich, sherry-like note. There were no hops left, but the beer was not overly sweet. Some bread pudding and raisin, but balanced by the sherry note.
The beer probably would have been better a decade or two earlier, but it was still surprisingly fresh and tasty. People often ask me how long you can store beer before it's a lost cause, and I've always been reluctant to answer. My data set--like most people's--is not flush with examples. But 25 years is quite a test. And this bottle, which was well cared-for in that quarter-century, held up remarkably well.
Bright and effervescent after 25 years. |