Hello Oktober!

Now onto the beer. I stroked this can slowly as I reached for the tab, and let my fingers graze the smooth matte surface during my pour. I don’t care if this sounds porny, you really need to feel their cans (haha.) The marzen lager pours a lovely deep burnt sienna color, semi opaque but not hazy. A rich amber head foamed up around the top of the glass but dissipated quickly and loudly. The head left a decent lacing around the rim of the glass, apparent even from the next room. The carbonation in the glass was quite vibrant and active. It can be so disappointing to pour malted beverage from a can or a growler and see the flatness in the glass, but not for this beer. I’m still nursing a slight hurt from a few weekends ago, regarding a growler lid that was not screwed on as tightly as it should have been by a distracted bartender. Grumble. 

Now I will admit, as I performed my usual aroma wafting ritual, I was underwhelmed with the minimalistic fragrance of this malted Munich drink. I was able to discern some mild notes of lightly toasted biscuit but not much else. I was surprised at the complete lack of piney resin. Now Marzen lagers are not known for their hoppy characteristics (thank goodness), but there is usually a bit just to balance out the malt forwardness that German beers tend to bring. Well fuck, you know, the beer is poured and ready to drink. I still have to at least take a sip of the damn liquid. The okt had mouthfeel that I would classify as medium-light, which I appreciated. Some okts have a fullness that can feel cloying with the malt, but this viscosity was a nice middle ground. As I sipped, I felt the carbonation bubbles dance the cha cha on my tongue, that was a flirty little delight. 
After drinking this beer, I’m wondering if my olfactory senses had been skewed that night because the taste was nothing like the smell. Upon the first sip, I’m deep in the White Mountains, maple trees ablaze in a wash of reds and oranges. A slight chill hangs in the air. My burgundy sweater and light scarf sway in the breeze. I know this flavor, it’s autumn! I detected notes of toasted wheat and brown biscuit, reminded me of a harvest grain bread fresh from the oven. Enegren is extremely malt-forward, which is a property I don’t often enjoy in beers, but fortunately, it is a dry roasted maltiness. The malt characteristics are very dry and clean, a hot burnt brightness.  

A surprise guest in this baked harvest liquid delight was notes of buttery honey. Yes, you read that right, imagine a dry fermented honey mixed into creamy butter and slathered on warm wheat bread. While the beer boasts an impressive five different malts and traditional German Hallertauer hops, there is no mention of honey in the recipe. The honey fades into warm luscious caramel and toffee notes. I feel like I’m sunning myself at the Coffee Bean on Sunset drinking a maple latte, the flavors in that drink are quite similar. If it weren’t for the noise, glaring sun, pollution, and mentally ill folk running around, I’d almost think I was getting my fall on back east. A bright floral note appears, and I’m transported to Rapscallion brewery, the only place that combines apple picking and hayrides with the alcoholic drink of the gods. There is something about the sweet vivacious floral notes that figuratively tastes like sunshine in an apple orchard. Then lo and behold, the floral presence gave way to a wee bit of pine. Just a tad, just to balance out the malt. Delightful.

4 out of 5 beer steins