Morland Brewing Co.'s Old Speckled Hen?$10.25 for a six-pack at Uncle Tom's
I just finished an exam. I handed in a paper yesterday and I have a quiz tomorrow. I also need to figure out what I am doing with my life after Bowdoin, and fast. Maybe I should go to the library or the CPC? I think instead I'll go to Uncle Tom's and revolutionize the way beer critics everywhere write their weekly reviews. I wasn't able to hold my traditional beer-tasting session last night (I told you, it's been a rough week). So instead, I'm going to go make a spontaneous and ill-informed beer purchase and write about my new beer while I try it for the first time. This is going to be ingenious. Then again, this could also suck.
I lingered for a while at the market, with Uncle Tom himself peering over my shoulder eagerly awaiting my decision. He had his usual white surgical coat on and a little white poodle nipping at his heels. I felt like I was in some strange laboratory, looking at row after row of a scientist's latest freakish creations. Clearly, I needed some help. So I questioned Tom about a strange-looking beer that had oddly caught my eye. The beer in question was Morland's Old Speckled Hen. Like me, Tom had never had this beer, but he did point out that its alcohol percentage was 5.2 percent. This sounded like an endorsement to me, so I told him to ring it up. "$10.25," he said innocently.
"This," I added, "better be good."
On the ride home, I went through a slew of rationalizations in my head to offset the sneaking suspicion that I had made a terrible mistake. My first thought was that Old Speckled Hen is an ale, so some bitterness should be expected and that is good. My next thought was about the English. They're refined, polite, and sophisticated, right? Of course they are. So I should be in for a treat. And lastly, I figured if the impeccably dressed fox on the cover of the box approves, why shouldn't I?
The first sip went down something like a shrapnel bomb exploding halfway down my esophagus. It was almost as if the beer knew it wasn't going to be liked and was fighting its way back up to return to its own kind. Suffice it to say, I'm not a huge fan. But that's why I do these tastings. I find beers I like and recommend them to you all. I also taste the bad ones so you never have to.
So, um, maybe taste isn't everything? Old Speckled Hen pours an impressive golden amber with hints of reddish tinge. Its aroma is fruity and pungent. The taste, though too bitter for my liking, is rich and full (think dinner in a bottle). There is a slight hint of toffee aftertaste, though you may need to give the neurons in your brain a second to recover before they let you realize it. The official Old Speckled Hen web site claims boldly that this beer is "the number one choice at the check-out" and that "in the premium bottled beer sector, Old Speckled Hen even outsells Newcastle Brown Ale!" This, I'm afraid, is going too far. The English can have their sophistication. I would rather have my senses.
Before I come off like a complete novice, let me make one thing clear. I like a bitter beer, one that makes you smack your lips, thump your chest, and really enjoy that plate of nachos. What I do not like is a beer that is all bitter and nothing else (except very filling). Foxes in bowties are cool, but ales that taste like skunked schlitz and make you want to reconsider dinner are just not my thing.
I am now done with my first and last bottle of Old Speckled Hen. It was a bold experiment and I'm glad that I went there. There are still five in my fridge if anyone is interested. But don't feel pressured. There are plenty of great English ales out there, and I will make it a point to bring one to you soon. Just don't get your feet wet with Old Speckled Hen, or you may never visit the ocean again.