Beer Adventures in Chicago, Part 4 of 7

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3]

As I said in my previous travel diary (of sorts), I wasn’t quite sure where I was going on Monday night for dinner and beer, even up to the hour before I left. I briefly considered trying to get another group of librarians together but realized that I can only manage to pretend to be interesting one night out of every two weeks or so. Thanks to former Chicago native Ethan for making my mind up: I’d have to skip the Map Room this time around and head to the Goose Island brewpub (the original location) for dinner.

Walking in, I was immediately impressed by their free wifi, something even my exorbitantly expensive hotel can’t manage (in 2009!). I was also struck by the difference between the dimly lit bar and the incredibly bright restaurant area (lit mainly through the skylights while I was there). They had a very nice beer selection, including three available on cask, and served everything in imperial pints. Plus, I was finally able to sate my nacho craving, so that was nice.

I ordered the Hex-a-gone brown on cask, but the (very nice and knowledgeable) waitress came back and told me they were out of that and instead gave me samples of the two that were remaining, a mild and a porter. I chose the mild — which I believe was called the PMD Mild? — as I don’t get to have the style often, and after I was brought the full glass, I must say: wow. There was a great roasty/chocolatey smell with a creamy, off-white head. Its cask-induced creaminess combined with its opaqueness and presentation in a curved 20 glass means I really couldn’t help but compare it to Guinness, even though the styles are totally different. It was also an unfair comparison as the mild is leaps and bounds better (it actually tasted like something!). The taste was mostly that of brown malt, which ended in a bit of malt bitterness? I was reminded of the BOV Brown Ethan and I brewed up, but with less body. It finished nicely, avoiding an overly sweet aftertaste, which lends it to being supremely drinkable. All in all, this was so far my favorite of the trip.

Reading over the menu, I liked that they offered half pints as well (10 oz, of course, as these are imperials!), but I couldn’t quite justify ‘you can try more’ when put up against ‘I want a full beer.’ Some of the prices were a bit steep on the higher gravity beers — their bourbon barrel stout was I think $6 at Hop Leaf but was $10 here (though to be fair I don’t remember if the volumes were the same) — but all in all they were reasonable: I’d pay $10 for a bomber if I didn’t know that would be all I’d drink the rest of the night (a half pint is too little, but I do have my limits on requested volumes).

Next I decided to go with their Honker’s Ale, which I believe is their flagship brand. There was a little bit of fruity hop aroma, and when I sipped it I was hit with an initially surprising but overall not overpowering fresh/fruity flavor that I eventually decided was lemon. It finished very cleanly, which I assume is because of the house yeast they use. I don’t know if I was in the throes of ‘end of conference elation,’ but I enjoyed the hell out of this beer too. The menu said it has ’sunset hues,’ which I think is appropriate as it was a dark orange color with a hint of tan, but when held up to the light turned to a bright yellowish orange (and at the angle my glass was sitting at, the light hit it both ways to make it look almost like a layered cocktail). There’s really not much malt I could get out of it, but it was fairly light in the hops as well, giving only a slight tinge of bitterness that didn’t linger past its welcome. This was listed under their ’session beer’ category, and I really wouldn’t mind tossing a few of these back.

I decided to finish with their Matilda, a Belgian golden that was on sale for $4 instead of the usual $7. The smell was dry Belgian fruit with a bit of spice, and it had a light amber color that was similar to the Honker’s Ale. It had a very fruity taste that was downright sweet, but it quickly resolved itself into a slightly dry finish. It actually almost seemed like some flavors were being covered up, as I started to get some of the spice and dryness but then it abruptly ended, almost like I had stumbled into a hospital room I shouldn’t have been in and had a nurse quickly pull the privacy curtain around. I thought it may have again used the house yeast, but eventually decided that probably wasn’t the case, as it’d be hard to get the Belgiany character with only malts and adjuncts. Swishing it around brought out a bit of the 7% heat, but even when you looked for it there wasn’t much.

As I sat in the restaurant, staring at my goblet of beer and the French ad with a frog drinking beer from a straw, I realized I was experiencing what Christopher Mark O’Brien was going on about in Fermenting Revolution: I was communing with my beer. It had become more than just a drink to me: I was on my own, really for the first time in my life (which is what happens when you go to school locally and marry young), devoting my last 36 hours in an alien city entirely to the pursuit of this beverage. (This includes reading, as I’m near the end of Pete Browns supremely excellent Hops and Glory, which is what’s driving this introspective-travel-and-beer urge right now, so blame him if you’re bored.) I can’t quite explain it, but I felt very… calm and content. I slowly finished the Matilda, playing with the stem of the glass and tracing lines in the condensation with my finger. I think it’s times like these that we as beer lovers search for, and so I’m lucky that I was able to experience it.

It should also be pointed out (and also serves as a way to either ruin the moment or shake me out of my self absorbed pseudoprose, depending on your view) that AHA members get a 20% discount, meaning my dinner, three beers and two pint glasses came to under $35 with tip.

Next up: I sucker the fine folks at Metropolitan Brewing into letting me in!