Samuel Adams Imperial Stout
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(3 votes, average: 4.33 out of 5)
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Imperial is all the rage. American palates yearn for bigger and bolder flavors — more hops, more alcohol, more fruit, more roasted malt — and craft brewers have satisfied that market, to the extent possible, by blurring the style-lines and stretching the context of familiar beers.
The word “Double” has been used to designate these bigger beers, presumably keying off the Belgian “dubbel” style, typically double the average abbey ale strength (yesterday, my beer for the day was a Double Pale Ale). But with a few notable exceptions — such as Harpoon’s “Leviathan” Series — most souped-up, bolder beers are described as “Imperial” styles.
The name comes from a strong stout crafted in the late 1700’s by Englisher brewer Thrale’s, for export to the court of Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia. The strong “porter” became known as the Imperial Russian Stout, and that name is still used for malty, decadent stouts with a high ABV percentage. But outside of a stout, the “Imperial” description is merely used for convenience — like the word “Double” — to describe a BIGGER version of a familiar beer style. And of course, inside of a stout (with apologies to Groucho Marx) it’s too dark to read.
Samuel Adams released a line of “Imperial” beers, and I was pleasantly surprised by the Imperial White. Rather than simply “double” their White Ale, Sam Adams completely redesigned the beer to create an wholly new drinking experience. So I’ve been looking forward to trying their Imperial Stout, which at least enjoys the etymological advantage over its illegitimate Imperial brethren.
According the to the label:
Samuel Adams Imperial Stout is our take on the stouts brewed by 18th century English brewers for the Russian Imperial Court of Catherine II. The special malted barley in this intense and massive brew delivers rich flavors like dark chocolate, coffee and anise.
I pulled my bottle of Samuel Adams Imperial Stout from the refrigerator and left it to warm on the counter for about 40 minutes, to better enjoy the expected chocolate, coffee, and anise nuances. When I finally poured the now-sweaty bottle, Sam Adams Imperial Stout glugged from the bottle like oil, syrup splashing in the specially designed Sam Adams glass and billowing up a tremendous and lethargic cocoa head. The bubbles finally settled down, forming defiant foam islands that faded into tenacious espresso crema, churned by the curvy glass with each sip into swirly tan-on-black tiger skin patterns.
The initial aroma was sweet, a flat smell broken only by wispy alcohol. But after a few sips, the beer churned up a persistent anise aroma that mingled with the roasted malt, blended with the ever-growing smell of alcohol, and utterly dominated the nose. On the tongue, dark chocolate flavors tingle and mingle with sweet malt, and the alcohol that had been so dominate in the aroma manages to keep a low profile through the first part of the sip — but then the alcohol fights with the roasted malt and clamors for attention throughout the finish, ending with a whiskey-burn aftertaste.
Samuel Adams Imperial Stout is 9.2% ABV and 50 IBU.
Overall, I enjoyed this beer — but I’ve had more interesting stouts. Samuel Adams seems to be holding back just enough to keep the Imperial Stout marketable and somewhat tame, and the result is an aimless sweetness without enough roasted malt to moderate the alcohol. But without a doubt, this is still an enjoyable beer — not a bad way to end a night of drinking.
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