Beer #20- Guinness Extra Stout

"So you want to be a Chef, ay?!!" My boss, Chef David James cackled at me as the Expo and myself were shoulder deep in pots and pans. In the middle of the rush our dishwasher bailed. Just walked out. He didn't even walk into the kitchen and give a complimentary, "F*ck You!" He just left.

God Bless the dishwashers, and God damn them. They are of utmost importance in the biz, and few of us could actually do that job. Yet we think of it as minuscule, as unimportant- even as degrading. Yet when they leave, the whole restaurant comes to a stand still- even the Chef isn't that important. There are always a few cooks around.

Inside of us all we have a desire to be great. But what is greatness? As my alarm of 6 a.m. is looming right around the corner, I pour my Guinness Extra Stout and sit back and relax of a job well done. I quickly reminisce to my first beer at a Pub in Wales, UK.

I was 14 and my Dad told me to go order a drink called Guinness at the bar. I wearily stepped out of my seat, thought about this foreign task, stuck out my chest and got the attention of the barkeep. "Two pints of Guinness please," I politely asked, feeling quite criminal as a rush of blood pumped through my veins and the bartender sloshed the frothy pints (real pints, mind you) down on the wooden bar-top. I remember gripping those beers with a ferocity and determinacy I have seldom experienced, even after this moment. And I sat down with my Dad. And we drank.

That was the day I became a man. I felt... I felt, well, I felt greatness.

And I do to this day every time I have this beer. Not that I am some great cosmic accomplishment, but rather, that I did something today. That I am a part of this world and that I washed those damn dishes the best I could. I sweated, I cursed at the prep guy, I made a crude joke or two as I buffed the pans clean, we laughed at our misery in all of it, and then Chef brought us a beer.

This beer was a sacramental sign of respect. I gulped it down as sanitizer ran down my arms, the burnt cheese smell mixed with soap clogged my nasal cavity, and my apron felt and smelled like it was pulled out of a swampy bog on the delta in Mississippi- yet it was so amazing.

It was and no one can argue with that. Just like the first Guinness (and best, because it was on Draft and in the UK) I had ever tasted, the beer handed to me by someone I respect was an unspoken, yet completely communicated form of approval, of respect, of a job well done. There is nothing else like that this world. No other universal man-sign. Tonight, beer was a gesture, it stood for so many things that no one could ever say, and it always will stand for that.

*Please note my first beer was Guinness Draught, different from the beer I am officially reviewing. However, while two distinctively different beers, and while the Extra Stout lacks the creaminess and is lighter, I love them both the same (like two of your own children). Below is my score and characteristics of the Extra Stout.*

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I give Guinness Extra Stout a 93.




Look: Motor Oil Black
Smell: Dark Malted Coffee
Taste: Heavy, Bitter up front with a sweet, smooth subtle dark chocolate aftertaste



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Brett's ratings are out of 100.

*Please understand that ratings on this scale have been influenced by my scholastic history of grading. A grade below 75 is not good, it is less than average. A beer below 60 is bad. Beers in the 90s are in the upper-echelon of beers on this earth, and above 95- divinely inspired.*

As with all connoisseurs, personal taste affects all ratings. The best ratings tend to lean towards his two different biases; 1) Well-crafted heavy Stouts and 2) Lagers made with a simple perfection.

Please understand that just because Brett gives a beer a high rating doesn't mean you may think it is good. Only understand that if he gives it a high rating it is because most people who have a good taste in beer would do the same.