Three Philosophers.

Sometimes you go out to have a beer with your friends after work. Sometimes your friend recommends a bar. Sometimes that recommendation comes without any prior experience. And sometimes, only sometimes, does that bar turn out to be one of the biggest gay bars in Washington, DC. We strolled in, looked around and figured it would be a suitable place. As we walked from the front to the back looking for seating, we began to notice that the bar was populated by extremely handsome, extremely well groomed, extremely well dressed gentlemen. Who were staring at us. One may say they were feasting their eyes. When we got to the back, my friends and I looked at one another. It dawned on us that this... was no typical watering hole. Yes... no typical bar. This place had TWO FOR ONE CRAFT BEERS.


Not only this, they were well plied with selections from one of the great American breweries, Ommegang. I had already enjoyed the Rare Vos, the Witte, the Hennepin. On this day, I would ply myself with that most succulent of ales, Three Philosophers, for the first but definitely not last time. Reviewed here at my discretion, and for your pleasure.

Phil Leinart, brewmaster at Ommegang, is a master at his trade, and is consistently putting out belgian style ales on par with those made abroad. And as I may have evinced in my review of the St. Bernardus Abt 12- the highest of bars set for Belgian ales, those are my absolute most favorite. Ommegang is so good at brewing Belgians that the esteemed Belgian brand Duvel bought it in 2003 adding their brews to a not insubstantial list of fantastic breweries and world class beers. As I've heard, Three Philosophers is the product of an essay competition sponsored by realbeer.com. A guy named Noel won the competition, Ommegang was contracted to brew it, and Three Philosophers was the result. As for the story behind the name, the catchphrase appears to be "Three Philosophers was made for contemplating." Now, I imagine Three Philosophers is inspired by the painting of the same name, by Giorgione. While I'm uniquely unsuited to be providing any commentary on anything, least of all high renaissance art, I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night.


3P is a Belgian quadrupel, in the same manner as the SB Abt 12, but infused with Kriek, a Belgian Cherry Ale (also delicious, but a vastly different beer). It's a dark brown ale at first glance, but when light shines through it reveals a deep red-amber tint which compliments the beige head, and which should keep it's comforting presence as you imbibe yourself into a coma. It smells subtle with a noticeable strength due to its quad bonafides (9.7% ABV), but much in the same sense as the Abt 12 the fruit overshadows the strength, and it isn't a hard smell and a hard kick upon your first whiff and taste. The 3P is slightly more carbonated than the Abt 12 (still very smooth), and will leave a little bit of a tingly sensation as you get down your first mouthful. The lions share of the taste is initially cherry, derived obviously from the cherry ale infusion, but is brewed with pils, amber, caramel, Munich, and Xtra special malts, lending a veritable cornucopia of flavors. It will feel full flavored but sweet, light on the tongue, moving into a slightly more bitter and dry finish, never losing dat smoooooothness and drinkability. This is beer in its highest iteration.


But of course, for me it's never just about the individual tastes, combined into an extravagant but not overly ostentatious display of excellence. It's about my ability to make wild and outlandish references and metaphors about it. It's also the beers ability to make me into a ravenous shell of myself, requesting JUST ONE MORE. Three Philosophers has that ability in spades. You'll find yourself smashed in no time at all after imbibing this true beaut, as the 9.7% sneaks up on both your liver and your wallet. It's just so tasty and so drinkable and so light that you won't see anything wrong with filling your alcohol tank until it's at capacity, then unleashing your new found pseudo-intellectualism on the bar and the world at large. The SB Abt 12 and this 3P are indulgences, indulgences you pay to yourself for your transgressions... against yourself. And as we all know (shh, go with it), indulgences are what you used to have to pay to the church to forgive your sins. They cost an arm and a leg more than your average brew, too. So I suggest that you find yourself happily paying this indulgence, and in the same manner as receiving the sacrament in a Catholic mass, "Only say the word and you shall be healed". But in this instance the word(s) will be, "A Three Philosophers, please." Forgive yourself. Go now in peace, to love and drink the beer.

"It's the water that makes it"

It's only fitting that since the first beer I reviewed is arguably the best beer on earth, the second beer I review should be arguably the worst beer on earth. If drinking beer sold exclusively by Walgreens sounds like a bad idea to you, you are wiser in many ways than I was throughout my last two years of college. A palette of this will run you less than 10 bucks, which is cheaper than even Natural Light, that mainstay of frat parties and triple keggers. I believe there is a quote often misattributed to Oscar Wilde that goes something like, "American beer is like having sex in a canoe. It's fucking close to water." Natty Light epitomizes this. The beer in question here fits the phrase with some manipulation. It would be closer to getting punched in the face and left for dead in a canoe. In a swamp. In the rain. Circled by alligators and vultures. Maybe an anaconda for good measure.

At my discretion and for your reading pleasure, Big Flats 1901.

There are so many things about this beer that I don't understand. The name is apparently an homage to the flat bed boats that transported cargo along rivers in upstate New York. But any homage to those boats is spoiled by the straight up skunk that is this beer. I was also unaware that beers needed catchphrases, but the one for Big Flats is "It's the water that makes it."

?

It's... the water. I don't... I mean, yes. Water would make it. I can't.

I won't speak extensively on the aesthetics of this beer, as if you ever find yourself drinking it, it will most likely be at a terrible party in a solo cup or straight out of the can in mass quantities. Actually, if you are at a party where this is being served, leave. Some would call the color golden. I believe piss is a more apt description. There is no head. It is not attractive. The smell is off-putting, as though someone urinated on some fruit cake and left it sitting in a car for several days. Use your imagination.

The beer itself is 4.5% ABV, which is not bad. But if the water is what makes it, I imagine they used the water in the river from that commercial of the Crying Indian. It's heavier than you expect, and drinkable is not a moniker I would bestow. After a strong night of drinking you will wake up the next morning with a desperate thirst and a terrible taste in your mouth. And no amount of water will quench your thirst, no amount of teeth brushing will stop the taste.

Time is your only friend. And experience. And now, this review. Learn from my mistakes. Don't drink this. It is piss cheap, and piss poor. And piss. Pissy piss that smells pissy.

St. Bernardus Abt 12

I imagine this is St. Bernardus. Coyly wagging his finger at
you for never having indulged in this heavenly vice. 

I’m no expert in matters of the palette. I can only tell you what I like. But people seem to trust me on such decisions as which beer to choose with an almost disturbing regularity. Personally, I’m always partial to Belgian Strongs, Dubbels, Trippels, and Quadrupels. Their fruity sweetness is masked by a subtle punch in the mouth, later followed by a knee to the liver, and completed by a loosening of both tongue and appendage. Upon arising the next morning after a serious night, your head should feel like it is between a toilet seat and the bowl, under the pressure of a man as gluttonous as he is pungent.

It is with this in mind that I review the St Bernardus Abt 12. If this is on the drafts menu at your chosen watering hole, order it. Drink it. Love it. A friend described it to me as, “The closest you can get to being stoned by way of drink.” Honestly, I’m inclined to agree.

This is a quadrupel and clocks in at 10% ABV, and is St Bernardus best offering. St Bernardus is a brewery of wide renown, and near unparalleled quality. Unfortunately it doesn’t fall under the qualification of authentic “Trappist”, but it’s close enough. A brewery must meet several legal metrics to obtain the Trappist label, as Trappist brewers make beer only to support themselves and their monastery. 

St Bernardus stopped brewing with the actual Trappist Monastery Westvleteren in 1992, after their contract expired. And by God, those monks at Westvleteren do a devlishly good job of it. Westvleteren brews a Westvleteren 12 that is referred to by many as the best beer in the world, and its commercial counterpart is the St Bernardus ABT 12. Reviewed here at my discretion for your pleasure.

The color is dark, with a thick and light colored head that will maintain its thickness until you finish. For the amateur beer drinker, this will seem similar to a Guiness in appearance and consistency, but perhaps a tad lighter and several dozen tads stronger. The smell is not overpowering, but it is sweet. If you spend a night drinking these or you (tragically) spill some on yourself, it won't be a typical stale beer smell following you around for the night and may actually be a blessing in disguise if you have forgotten to bathe.

Your first taste will be an interesting combination of riding on the back of a hippogriff over the forbidden forest and making love for the first time. The heavy alcohol content will be the first taste that comes to mind, but it will be one masked by dried fruit and supple goodness and warmth. It is strong and you feel the kick, but it is not a painful kick. It's mostly your taste buds coming alive after years of dormancy and abuse. The fruit tastes are dominated by plum, but I'm honestly not enough of a master to continue describing the myriad tastes and colors and fantasmic wonderment that will be flowing from your mouth to your brain. As you continue, your heart will swell and tears may or may not fill your eyes. Your last sip will be simultaneously the best and worst moment of your life, as you sit with your hands outstretched requesting another. And another. And another.

I have met people that enjoyed the ABT 12, but that thought it was perhaps too strong. I call these people sorry excuses for humanity. Again, order this. Drink this. Love this.