Epic Epicurious

Having a beer named after yourself is quite a feat, and it’s even more awesome if you happen to be a legendary jazz-blues musician such as Thelonius Monk. The beer, as the headline suggests, is called Brother Thelonius, which is not at all that unwitty, both with regard to black slang and to the fact that this is a belgian-style abbey ale.

Now, I’ve heard a lot of terrific things about this beer and so I’ve been dying to try it out, but I’ve also retained a somewhat skeptic approach to it. Why, you ask? Because of the above sentence in italics. I love american beer. And I love Belgian beer. But I’m never impressed when Belgians try to make American beer and vice versa. Actually, when Americans try to make Belgian beer, the result is often even worse. The beers are usually just very strong in alcohol and lack any sort of really interesting flavours or aromas. I get the feeling that their main consumer group consists of hipster douchebags that are really only interested in getting drunk as hell but want a veil of pretention to get away with it – and, to be honest, this beer gave me that exact impression when I first picked it up and read the label.

I was very pleasantly surprised, however, when I first smelled it. It smells very fresh, and the hops come through pretty dominantly together with a fine scent of yeast that doesn’t remind me too much of Belgians. It smells very American. And that’s good, because it gives me the impression that the brewery, American Artisan, realize that they couldn’t hope to create a true Belgian abbey ale. There’s some faint tones of burnt malt there too in the background.

The taste, however, I don’t know quite what to make of. It’s sort of Belgian, but only in the sense that it’s strong in both alcohol and flavour – there’s not too much true Belgian yeast flavours here, I’ll have to admit. But what makes me perplexed is that it is not really that much more American-style either. Sure, there’s this nice freshness from good-quality American (I presume) hops, and there’s this instantly recognizeable heaviness of a good American stout, but it’s being held back by the Belgian wannabe-parts. And there’s something slightly metallic there too that I really can’t tell what or where it comes from.

This seems to be a beer that can’t quite decide upon what it wants or where it wants to be. It has two roads that would both lead to something very, very nice, but it somehow just ends up sitting there at the crossroads doing nothing but rolling its thumbs and playing blues harmonica.

So what exactly does it taste like? Well, imagine a nice American oatmeal stout; heavy, serious burnt malt, together with some other serious selection of hops to balance it up a bit. Only now add a bit more alcohol, a steel rod and perhaps a splinter or two, and you’ll get Brother Thelonius.

Now don’t get me wrong, this is still a fine and highly drinkable ale. It just doesn’t quite “hit the spot”, so to speak. To its favour, it does NOT pretend to be something it isn’t. It’s a Belgian-inspired American ale, and nothing else.

So, will I recommend it? Unless you’re a huge fan of the late Thelonius and would like his Jazz Institute to get a few more bucks, no. While I still believe that a successful marriage between Belgium and America could be made, this is not it. If you’re expecting Belgian, you’ll be disappointed. If you’re expecting American, you’ll also be disappointed, though perhaps not quite as much. If you’re expecting an enjoyable, strong and heavy ale though, you won’t be disappointed, but you’ll not be overwhelmed or pleasantly surprised either. However, due to its unique flavour and character, I suspect that there are a handful of die-hard Thelonius fans out there, but it’s safe to say that I’m not one of them.