Elgood’s Coolship Dark

And yes, that’s a Staro glass,
it was given to me by the local curmudgeon,
who has thankfully left the area

Aged, received in December, sent to me from the brewery in lieu of an article on British sours that will appear in All About Beer soon, late December, and when it’s poured it’s still and limpid in the glass reminiscent of the kind of pond that poor old Ophelia drowned herself in (and which Millais put onto canvas), and as a digression I recall the first time I read Hamlet I thought what a ditherer he was, couldn’t make his mind up about anything, give me Falstaff or even Malvolio anytime — very dark chestnut/mahogany in colour, like a stained, ancient piece of furniture that’s been in the family for centuries. An agreeable handshake of dark stout like sweetness, burnt notes, treacle (or is that toffee?) alongside the angular, yoga poses of sourness, all making for an initially uncomfortable introduction but then it’s all ok, the kind of feeling you get when you settle into the yoga pose and know that what you are doing has got to be doing you some good. There’s a mustiness and earthiness on the palate, as if I had just gone into an old stable on a hot summer’s day and caught the aromas of horses and their actions long gone, but there’s also a grapefruit-like acidity, a stout-like boisterousness, a long day dawning of quenching zestiness; it’s a dirty beer, a beer that slinks along with a scowl on its face, a beer that kicks up the dust in the road (the mood of Dos Passos’ USA perhaps), a beer that ululates to be matched with a big fat sweating pungent slice of Stilton or maybe it’s a beer that can be enjoyed on its own, a lonesome pine of a beer, that highlights the day as the sun moves across the sky. I rather like it.