Dark beer is generally best enjoyed in colder weather, or in the evening. Ice cream, on the other hand, is consumed more frequently in the warmer summer months. When I began writing about beer I knew I was going to be faced with a dilemma: when to write this particular column that focuses on both beer and ice cream.
I ultimately decided to defer to the beer (this is a beer column, after all) and write about the wonders of "stout floats" while it is still technically winter out there. And by a stout float, I of course refer to mixing vanilla ice cream with beer, which is a perfectly normal thing to do, right?
This column also represents the biggest challenge I'll face all semester with regards to writing. At this you may be prone to scoff, thinking that nothing could possibly be challenging about drinking lots of beer and writing about it (unless, perhaps, the drinking and writing are attempted simultaneously).
While that's generally true, there's one little thing about me most of you did not know until now: I really, really, really dislike stouts. There's just something about drinking a beer as thick as most stouts are that makes my stomach angry with my brain (or is it the other way around?).
When I was abroad in Sri Lanka last spring—beer choices limited as they were—I developed a soft spot for Lion Stout which, at 8 percent ABV, was usually the strongest drink I could get my hands on (unless I wanted to pay through the nose for foreign spirits or erode my stomach with local liquor). And, luckily for me, Lion is available in the United States if you know where to look, at only eight dollars a six-pack.
Anyway, this summer I thought I had made an amazing discovery when a scoop of vanilla ice cream somehow found its way into my glass of Lion Stout.
My ego inappropriately inflated, I vowed to write about my innovation that would revolutionize the beer-drinking world once my beer column began.
Subsequent internet searches, however, told me that connoisseurs wiser than I have been enjoying stout floats for a very long time.
My second experience with Lion Stout and vanilla ice cream (Friendly's, to be precise) was not nearly as enjoyable as my first. I poured a liberal amount of my Lion over two small scoops, and plunged my spoon right in.
Initially, I was disappointed; all I could taste was a weird, watered-down version of the powerful Lion taste I had come to love. After swallowing, however, I was overcome with a pretty awesome aftertaste; the vanilla ice cream brought out the Lion Stout's subtle chocolaty undertones in ways I did not expect at all.
I quickly gobbled down the rest of the ice cream, only to be left with about half a cup of beer with melted ice cream in it, which I drank. This was a huge mistake. Somehow, melted ice cream made everything that is good about Lion Stout into a beverage too disgusting to describe further.
If using Lion Stout to make a stout float (which I recommend, provisionally) pour a small quantity of the beer over your ice cream like a topping rather than a base for a float. Maybe this doesn't qualify as a proper float, but it's worth it if a sixer of Lion enters into your life.
So if I was not crazy about a stout float made with one of the few stouts I actually enjoy, what happens when I try combining a stout with a beer that I truly do not like? I picked Guinness Extra Stout (chosen over Guinness Draught because Draught lacks carbonation) specifically because I cannot stomach it. However, the addition of ice cream actually improved things for me, which makes me inclined to think that those of you out there who actually like Guinness will love it in a stout float.
Unlike with Lion, you can pour a liberal amount of your beer over your ice cream, and both elements of the float will taste great.
You won't be tempted to pour out the remnants of your float once with ice cream is gone; Guinness Extra Stout infused with vanilla ice cream simply tastes like a milder version of the beer, and the vanilla brings out a little bit more chocolate than one would normally taste.
The final stout I experimented with was Rogue's Shakespeare Stout, sold in pint-and-a-half bottles for about six dollars.
On its own, this beer is one of the most subtle stouts I have ever tasted, with undertones of coffee and malt that don't jump out as strongly as with many other stouts. And while it's carbonated, Shakespeare is hardly as fizzy as Lion or even Guinness Extra Stout.
These characteristics made for a great combination with my vanilla ice cream and by far the best stout float of the three. While the beer-infused ice cream itself was not as tasty as with the other two combinations I tested, overall, a Shakespeare Stout float is a highly enjoyable beverage.
The melted ice cream really accentuated the beer and brought out more of its flavor, even more so than with Guinness. Perhaps this has something to do with carbonation?
I would encourage my readers to experiment with stout floats and try not only the combinations I have discussed here but also ones of your own creation.
You will probably create something even better than what I was able to concoct.
The Bowdoin Orient has a promotion in partnership with Bootleggers Beverage Warehouse in Topsham, Maine. This week only, Bowdoin students can receive 10 percent off Rogue Shakespeare Stout, Lion Stout and Guinness Extra Stout upon presentation of a Bowdoin ID.