The Forum

Baffled. I found myself absolutely stumped this time around with what many Americans purport to be a “Scottish Ale.” After some quick research, I found that “Scottish Ale” is a fictional category drawn by American beer amateurs that somehow has made its way into the mainstream. Actually, the term “Scottish Ale” only refers to a beer originating or brewed in Scotland. Many (including me up to this point) assume that this term, in fact, is a legiti­mate distinction among beers from the British Isles. This confusion more than likely originates from a misinterpreta­tion of the term “Scotch Ale,” which actually does confer a meaningful con­notation of an ale whose grain is malted from the flames of native Scottish peat.

To accurately classify this style, one would have to begin with the tra­ditional British Isles Extra Special Bit­ter (or ESB) against a backdrop of the more unique and bolder styles of Scot­land. British beers date back as far as any, and many breweries outdate the governments which now contain them. They were simply classified by the “Schilling” system, conferring a value upon the concentration, and were thus named. These ranged from the 90 Schil­ling down to the 60 Schilling, and were primarily based upon each beer’s ABV. Because this beer is about 4.7% ABV, it would likely be classified a 60 Schil­ling. Having had the pleasure of slowly savoring it myself, I am confident it is worth each and every one if you are lucky enough to find it—especially if you find it in the cask (on tap).

The beer’s name, Lia Fail, is also worth a note. In fact, Lia Fail is the name of the Coronation Stone from the King of the Scots from 840 A.D., and is now located at Edinburgh Castle, Scotland. I found this beer to be aptly named. It is the cornerstone of the “Scottish Ales” I have sampled.

It pours from an attractive 500ml bottle a dark copper, brownish amber rust color. No notable head could be observed, and very little, if any, car­bonation was evident. After even a vigorous pour, very little or no head appeared, though a thin, minimal lace remained for the duration of the sample. I stopped short of a full pour as I noticed the beer’s authentic bottle conditioning, and was a bit concerned about under carbonation.

The scent was fairly simple, of a very hard, dry cider with very little spice, such as those imported from Eng­land. A light floral aroma suggested an understated hoppiness along with a very light cinnamon or clove. Next, I felt completely deceived. This beer’s palette resembled nothing I expected from the essences it gave my other senses. The ale’s overwhelming complexity includ­ed spicy, sweet, sour, and bitter. The first impression of its caramel sweetness was finely balanced against a spicy dry­ness that loudly echoed the cinnamon and clove but with a much more pro­found intensity. The body also included notes of a very weak coffee, very light chocolate, and a thick egginess, such as in a delicate flourless chocolate pastry.

The finish was overwhelmingly dry, which left the mouth feeling almost squeaky. I truly wish Lia Fail wasn’t so hard to find, because I would like to further unravel the flavors I just began to uncover with the few delectable min­utes I got to spend with this delightful ale.

Chris is a 3L and can be reached at fo­rum@valpo.edu

This entry was posted on Monday, March 23rd, 2009 at 11:53 am and is filed under Etcetera.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.