Posted: Tuesday, June 9, 2009 12:00 am
The devilish chicken-or-the-egg question came to mind last year with a handsome 4-ounce Belzebuth beer tasting glass, a Father's Day gift for my collection from my son, Connor. In the normal order of things, to keep the collection to a manageable size, I insist on trying the beer before buying the glass. An exception must be made for such an excellent gift, but it threw the whole chicken-egg nature of my beer acquisition out of alignment.
I was stymied for days debating which, beer or glass, was the chicken and which was the egg, even before which should come first. (After years of careful study of our own egg-laying chickens, I can tell you that madness, and a taste for chicken fajitas, comes long before resolution of that question). Concluding that beer drinking can sometimes lead to bizarre, even dangerous philosophizing, I decided no one cared about the natural order of my collection, thus freeing me from the trap of my own false logic. Online searching led to the Belgian and German beer shelves at John's Grocery in Iowa City, where I found a handy three-pack of the little devils, patiently waiting for me.
Classified innocently as a Blond ale from French brewer Brasserie Grain D'Orge, Belzebuth certainly looks the part. Don't be fooled by that tempting pale gold lager hue, this is no summer thirst-quencher. At a near-combustible 13 percent alcohol-by-volume, it is, as the name and horned figure on the label suggest, the devil. I poured it into my cool new glass and admired the dense, pillowy head and steady rising columns of carbonation bubbles. A gentle swirl showed off some serious legs, the first tangible indication of the alcohol content. Tantalizing whiffs of sweet apricot, plum and pear beguiled the nose, inviting the first tentative first sip. A surprisingly dense, lightly carbonated body carried the same notes of fruit gently over the taste buds, followed by subtle floral hops. Nuanced appreciation was short-lived as a fiery pitchfork of alcohol stabbed through the back of the throat and nostrils and lingered for near-eternity, like a shot of really good vodka.
My summer beer lineup doesn't include many high-test brews, but with Father's Day rolling around, I was curious to see if a year of aging had mellowed the ale. Pouring the last of three (I gave the second to my cousin Jeff, in case his car ran out of gas on the way back to Chicago), revealed little change visually or in the taste, though it had acquired a slight metallic tang. The alcohol is blunted somewhat, allowing a more harmonious blending of the elements, though I'd still be careful around open flame.
Belzebuth is a good beer, even an above-average beer, but the lack of balance puts it more in my novelty category than the hall of fame. I'll hang onto my soul and the glass - I've earned it now - for a little while longer.
Prost!