United Nations of Beer

Saint Ambroise Oatmeal Stout

by Trevor Prosser
(Alberta, Canada)

My wife and I got an invitation for the first backyard-fire-pit-drinking gathering of the year, with the expected BYOB stipulation.

Now, I love BYOB parties, because my friends describe me as a bit of a beer snob. When I bring beer, I bring something that I've never tried before, or something different to share and educate with.

When my friends provide the beer, they provide Canadian. If it's a fancy occasion, maybe some Kokanee beer or Big Rock.

So, we stopped at the liquor store on our way to the party, and I spend the usual 20 minutes scanning the refridgerated section, comparing locations, alcohol contents and of course, keeping an eye out for something new and intriguing.

And while this trip didn't turn up a new discovery, it did give me the chance to finally pick up a beer that I'd looked at time and time again, but always passed over for something more exotic.

Saint Ambroise Oatmeal Stout accompanied us to the party, and made more of an entrance than we did. While everyone else sucked back pale beers, I pulled out a dark and imposing bottle, and drew a few frightened glances. Not everyone appreciates a dark beer, and many people openly fear it, figuring it to be bitter, heavy and high in alcohol content. Don't ask me why.

The first pull of this beer made me glad we brought it along. Served ice-cold, this beer came across thick but not chewy, and you felt that every sip filled your entire mouth with dark wonder. A touch of sweetness, with the usual dark-beer flavours - chocolate and chocolate - made this not the most drinkable dark beer I've ever had. Definitely not for chuggers, it's about seven-eights of the way towards Guinness and away from Coors Light.

After my first bottle, one of the guests announced that they had run out of beer. I offered a bottle of mine, which she took with some trepidation. "I'm not a dark beer drinker," she said, and I knew she wouldn't like it. Someone who prefaces trying a dark beer with negative impressions won't like this beer.

I was right. It was passed along, trying to find someone to drink it. Comments ranged from "That doesn't taste like oatmeal" to "Oh my god, it's like tar", which I thought was a little over the top.

But, it meant that no one else tried to steal a beer from me that night. So, if you're going to a party full of "conventional" domestic beer drinkers and you don't want to share, consider picking up a case of Saint Ambroise Oatmeal Stout, put out by McAuslan Brewery in Montreal.