About a week or two ago I bought a 12-ounce bottle of Black Albert, a “royal” stout from Belgium. It left my wallet 10 bucks lighter. In response to all skeptical looks: The Buds and the Millers and the PBRs of the world have their time and place, and the Black Alberts have theirs. Here’s my favorite analogy: Compare a classy Italian restaurant’s artisan pizzas with an 8-pound sack of Totino’s Pizza Rolls. Each fits a certain setting, and each satisfies in its own way.
I carefully transport my trophy home and crack it open. It pours like ink and foams up mocha. Grapes and figs waft noseward, but the lack of stoutish coffee beans perplexes. I do smell flowers though — how odd. Oh! Hints of dark chocolate drag it back to earth.
My first taste reinforces the smell; like most imperial stouts, this one’s a malt bomb. Chocolate and spice simmer on the tongue — you can barely taste the substantial ABV. A second sip unearths the coffee, which was hidden at the finish with the smokey malt and oak. Creamy textures in the foam thicken the beer’s medium body, which, combined with the chocolate flavors, makes you feel as if you’ve hit the wedding reception jackpot by remaining undetected whilst yawning beneath the cascading hills of the chocolate fountain.
All in all, I enjoyed Black Albert thoroughly. It was a flavorful, complex beer. But, at $10 a pop, I doubt I’ll purchase it again. I can find beers for half as much that I enjoy far more. And, when I do feel the urge to burgle my piggy bank for a single beer, I’d rather try something new. Black Albert receives a respectable score for being an exceptionally well-balanced stout. For its slightly unbalanced price tag, however, it loses half a cap.
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