Kegs and Kitchen

Since when can a wimpy little pilsner don the Imperial title? After Jim Koch goes to Germany and returns with enough Hallertau hops to make 10 barrels of beer, but decides to just make one, I guess. It says it right there on the bottle “An intense hop experience.” It’s not like they didn’t warn you.

I’d been eyeing this four pack in the cooler of my local beer slinger for a couple of weeks, and the curiosity was killing me. I always make it a point to try any new offering that comes from the fine folks at Sam Adams. Sometimes it’s a hit, as was the case with their Honey Porter, and other times it’s a flop… Cherry Wheat anyone? But they’re always exciting to try. Something just didn’t seem right to me about this one. Don’t get me wrong, I like Imperial Anything, so that wasn’t the part of the name that bothered me. Anytime a brewer decides they’re going to double the alcohol and/or hop volume, I’ll take two please.

It was the second half of the name, that pesky pilsner, that just didn’t sit well with me. How could such a drab style with it’s bottom fermenting yeast and it’s crisp, clean finish, try to call itself Imperial? If you’re going to call yourself an Imperial, you better jump out of that bottle and bitch slap me into a hoppy booze induced stupor.  It also helps to start out with a bold style to hide all of that fury from your unsuspecting audience until the very last second, and then WHAM!

Like Britney Spears exiting Paris Hilton’s Mercedes, everything is right out in the open for all to see when it comes to pilsners. There’s no sweet, malty backbone to use as a disguise because that bottom feedin’ yeast done ate it all up. There are no floral notes because noble hops don’t smell like flowers, damn it. It is what it is, and it ain’t Imperial y’all. </end Britney Spears impersonation>

In the glass, the Impy pilsner is the color of hay at dusk. Gold, with orange and red highlights. The head is full and strong, imperial, if you will.

The aroma is over-the-top hops. Most of the hop aroma is of the grassy variety, followed by fresh pine needles. If you really hunker down and get a good whiff, you’ll pick up spices too, followed by more hops. Huff it once more and you’ll get very subtle biscuit notes, like that of a graham cracker. There are many layers to this scent. It leads me to believe the same will be true of it’s flavor.

As soon as it hits my lips I feel the resinous presence of Hallertau. It washes over my tongue and seems to fill every crack and crevice with it’s syrupy hop blast. Bitter, bitter, bitter. Where’s the malt??? I need some grain to balance out the bite of these hops. It’s almost suffocating. Remember all of those smells I mentioned? Yeah, they’re nowhere to be found in the taste. It’s an all-out hop attack that seems to have killed the pilsner on it’s way out of the bottle.

I have to say that I’m disappointed with this one. I really wanted to like it, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t. It’s just too one dimensional. If you’re going to go crazy with hops, which I encourage you to do, you’d better go crazy with the malt too. It also helps to use more than one hop variety, and let them mingle a bit. This was way too heavy on the Hallertau and horribly lacking in anything that resembles two row malts.

Sorry Jim, but it’s back to the drawing boards on this one. Next time, maybe try an Imperial Stout.. and for the love of god put some panties on! Nobody wants to see that!