The good news out of this is that Alabama apparently has a new stout on the block, St-Ambroise Oatmeal Stout.  I hadn’t previously heard anything about it but I stumbled upon it at Bruno’s at The Summit on my way home.  T’ain’t cheap at $10+ for a four pack, but it is most excellent.  The roasted malts jump out, smack you over the head, and then ruthlessly mock you.

They also had a pale ale from the same brewery but one expensive beer buy was all I was up for at the time, so it will have to wait for another day.

Not surprisingly, English hops are very polite.

I wanted a nice light and easy-drinking ale to accompany lunch on this Martin Luther King Day, and Tanner’s Jack fit the bill.  I needed something a little on the malty side, although this one’s pretty hoppy by English standards.  But the hops are of the earthy/floral English variety, not piney/citrusy American varieties.  The flavor distinction is pretty huge so they are going to work with very different foods.

And it may be psychosomatic as the label mentions the old leather “jacks” that beer was once served from, but I swear this tastes a bit leathery to me, in a good way.  I do not know whether or not they actually age this on leather.

It was a decent pairing with the (frozen, microwaved) steak and cheddar panini.  The hops weren’t quite a perfect compliment here, but I’d say it was a pleasant afternoon meal.  Hard to go wrong with mild session beers.

Not named after me.

This was a bit of a shot in the dark.  But not too risky as I’ve found hoppy beers to be generally easier to pair than malty beers.  I can’t explain why that is, but it just seems that malty beers are more likely to produce harsh flavors on your tongue when improperly paired.  Exceptions to every rule and all that.

So the Double Bastard is an extreme version of an already intense beer, Stone Arrogant Bastard.  Beer Advocate classifies them both as “American strong ales,” a sort of catch-all term for otherwise unclassifiable American-made high gravity brews.  I can see that for AB, but the DB is essentially an American barleywine: a highly hopped, high gravity beer that’s a bit maltier than a double IPA.  Very highly hopped.  But then so is Great Divide Old Ruffian, also an intensely hoppy American barleywine.  But as usual, I digress.

Again, I find myself enjoying a Lean Cuisine panini, this time the Southwest-style Chicken.  No kidding, these are one of the better frozen items you can get.  The boy was eating a hot dog, the girl was taking forever to clean her room, and the wife had class.  So to survive, I turn to microwave options.

These blended nicely.  Not one of the best of the best, but something I’d return to.  Recommended.

Someday I will learn how to take good food/beer pics! Someday.

That would be a Lean Cuisine Panini.  Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.  Whatever its flaws, this picture at least catches the really nice grill marks from the special tray they include in the package; those aren’t fake grill lines, they were created by the microwave!  Ooooo.

I’d never heard of the beer before.  It caught my eye during my trip to Jax in Cumming, GA, and I’m just a sucker for anything with “IPA” on the label.  The descriptor “Double Dark” falsely hinted it might be a “black IPA” a la Stone 11th Anniversary Ale.  Now that was a fine beer, even if I remain a bit dubious over how it differs from a hoppy American-style imperial stout.  But I digress.  The Boss Cox.

The “Double Dark” apparently just means it’s a bit darker than your average IPA.  I think it would have been more accurate to say it’s a “Dark Double IPA.”  Cause I’m pretty sure the “double” means it’s a double IPA, not that it’s double dark.  It might approach something in the neighborhood of an India brown ale, but the malt flavors are not as foward as in other India brown ales I’ve had.

All that to say, this wasn’t a good match.  I’ve run up against this weird effect on numerous occasions.  When the flavors from a food dish and a beer are particularly uncomplimentary, they just do this… thing on your tastebuds.  It’s this harsh warning issued by nature that these things don’t mix.  And I haven’t quite found the words to adequately describe it.  It wasn’t as bad here as I’ve tasted in the past, but the short of it is that these two things should not be paired.

The beer kept going long after the sandwich was finished off, and it was a good one.  I always enjoy trying something different.

A blurry cameraphone pic of a clearly good meal.

I was certain this would be a winner, and I wasn’t disappointed.

The sandwich featured some hard salami, thin-sliced smoked turkey, shredded cheddar, and spicy brown mustard, all lightly toasted on a hoagie roll.  On the side were some Zapp’s Voodoo Gumbo potato chips.  What better to accompany such a deli delight than some Rye Pale Ale?

The special edition Zapp’s here were a little disappointing.  They didn’t pack as much punch as the colorful package would lead you to believe.  But still yummy.