Beer Review: Samichlaus

Ok, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm a sucker for good packaging. I guess I'd like to think if a person/company puts so much effort into something's container that that must be just as true, if not more so, for that container's contents. What can I say? I'm an optimist and a romantic. It's a very practical combination, I assure you.

Anyway, last time I was at the Beverage Warehouse this bottle of Samichlaus caught my eye. It's satiny, near-black purple label with its intriguing picture of a hooded old man and with it's intense, gothic script were too much to pass up. Especially since this potent beast weighs in at a ferocious 14.5% ABV. As an aside, it turns out that "Samichlaus" means "Santa Claus" in the Swiss-German dialect of Zurich, where it is made. Turns out that's who the hooded old man is. Apparently they make this stuff once a year in honor of the old guy. In any event, what really lured me in was the speculative claim printed at the bottom of the label in plain block letters:

THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY BEVERAGE IN THE WORLD

No graphics, no exclamation points, nothing. Not even a period. Just one very bold claim that was about to be put to the test.

Let me cut to the chase: I didn't like Samichlaus.

I had no idea what to expect, so it not meeting a pre-conceived notion (which can ruin anything in any avenue of life) was not what led to my disappointment. It was simply just not a beer I cared for.

It poured a beautiful, dark honey color with almost no head. The honey look carried over to its incredibly sweet nose. This thing just broadcasts the aromas of honey and sweetness like it's its job. Somehow it managed to taste even sweeter than it smells with almost NO alcohol taste. Considering its extremely high alcohol content, that feat alone might make it live up to its speculative claim. Anyway, there's no balance here. No even a trace of hops to temper the malty sweetness. It's a sugar hammer, right to your mouth.

Samichlaus was simply much too cloyingly sweet for my taste and I poured most of it out. Honestly, though, its sweetness and viscous body kinda reminded me of a port. I'll never down another bottle on my own, but could see splitting one with a few bro's over some cigars as a bargain port substitute.

Thanks for nothing, Santa.