Beer Review: Potosi Oatmeal Stout

It must be good as I did not get up till 0430, usually up by 3.

Well I have never done an actual beer review. I know what I like and don’t have a pallet discerning enough to say “oh it has light nutty overtones which shine through the initial fruityness w/ just a hint of coriander near the finish”. But I LOVE good beer and as you will come to find out I love to try different beers all the time. I am a beer slut. I also collect the cardboard sides from six-packs and put them on the wall of our bar. I love our bar, just like the song says. I am talking Sammy Haggar’s version. More about the bar later.

The Beer: I am happy to report that Potosi is once again brewing beer. It is cool as they were an area standard for many years and I live 20 minutes away. They house the National Brewery Museum. What is not cool is that I have not been down there to see it. The last time I was by there it was an abandon building deteriorating and I feared it would meet the same fate as the old Boscobel Brewery, destroyed w/out a trace. But it has been reserected and you can get all that info here.

Their first offerings while good were, in my opinion, middle of the road, average. Then I heard that the Brewmaster from Bells had joined them and I knew things would start getting a bit heavier. This fall I tried the Gandy Dancer Porter and loved it. I put it close to the top of my favorite Porters. And I love Porters.

I also love Oatmeal Stouts so when I walked into my fave liquor store yesterday and Ray said those magic words, “I have a new beer for you” as he showed me the pack, I was pumped. I chilled it to maybe 50 degrees. Very dark, nice head on pouring, good base flavor. I enjoyed it very much and would highly recommend it for anyone who is starting to delve in heavier beers. While it is not the “meal in a bottle” as I prefer my Oatmeals, it is a fine one. If anything it may be considered dangerous as the smooth delivery hides the fact that it is 8% and yes, it will catch up to you. I had 4 before I knew it. I was going to do the review afterwards but just couldn’t seem to focus. 😉 The great thing is I still have two left. Many of these beers come in a 4-pack but Potosi’s 6-pack offering is cool.

So I made it through my first review, hope it was helpful. If you liked it stick around as I ran through approximately 100 different beers in the last year and will try this for future testings. If you have an area exclusive beer that you would like to see reviewed and mentioned here give me a shout. I am always searching for one more cardboard for the bar walls. Kind of like collecting matchbooks, only way more fun.

Have a great day and it is the 24th so have a Hairy Fishnut and a Happy Blue Gill, and as always Carpe Langousta!!


2 responses to “Beer Review: Potosi Oatmeal Stout

  1. shaggy2471

    My entire childhood was spent growing up in potosi. A a small cozy little town where everyone knows everyone. As far back as I can remember the old brewery was a delapited train wreck. Was glad to see that someone once again saw that potental of that old building. What’s great half of the building is still original they just didn’t rip it down and start over. Now they are again making some kick ass brews. Who ever spear headed the rebuild definately lives by CARPE LANGOUSTA!!!! Until next time CARPE LANGOUSTA MOTHERFUCKER!!!!

  2. Found this on the net so i thought that i would share it with you. CARPE LANGOUSTA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    Twas the Ice Before Christmas
    ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the ice hut, nothing was stirring, not even a tip-up.
    The stockings were hung above the wood stove with care, in the hopes that new fishing gear would soon be stowed there.
    Children were all nestled snug in their sleeping bags, dreaming of strikes and loud screaming drags.
    And momma in her parka, and I in my cap, jigged tiny little ice rods while we waited for a tap-tap-tap.
    And then from the fishbox there arose such a clatter, that I peeked inside to see who’s catch was fatter.
    The perch, walleye, and lake trout flipped with such a fury, that I dropped the top back down in a hurry.
    I peeked out the window and saw a red flag, and knew at once that there were more fish to be had.
    I ran out the door and grabbed the tip-up that had popped, then pulled against the line until it just stopped.
    Had I hooked a tree, a boulder, or just the bottom of the lake? Why no sir, I felt the line begin to move, jerk, and quake.
    It pulled and it jerked and it yanked oh so strong, I feared that line would break, before very long.
    But I played it smart and let the giant fish run, let the monofilament slide between my fingers until it was done.
    The fish was tiring out or so I thought, because now it pulled weakly compared to how it had fought.
    So I began retrieving line slowly and under control, drawing the huge fish closer and closer to my ice hole.
    Down through the hole and into the depths I did peer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fish as it came near.
    Then suddenly and with very much surprise, down in the water I saw a pair of huge, bright, glowing red eyes—attached to a crawfish of immense size!
    His pincers were tangled up in my line, and as I pulled him through my ice hole he began to whine:
    “Oooh how could you, how could you, how could you catch me without pause? Don’t you know I am the fabled Santa Clawz?
    I go through the lake bringing presents and fruit cake, to all the good fishes like pickerel and splake.
    Now you have me trapped here on the ice and I’m in a real pickle, pretty soon I’ll turn into a crawdad-icicle.
    Let me go, let me go, let me go you mean human, don’t put me in a pot and boil me with spices like cumin!”
    He gazed at me with those glowing red eyes, and I could not help but feel sorry as I listened to his cries.
    So without further thought of a Cajun-spiced boil, I pushed him back into the water, so he could continue his toil.
    Down, down, deeper and deeper he sunk, until he landed on the lake’s bottom with a soft “thunk”.
    And even from that distance I heard him cry out, “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas to all, be you human, minnow, or trout!”

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