It was March11th, and I already knew that this wasn't going to be the year that I got to try Bell's Hopslam, their seasonal Double IPA (10% ABV). It was released in January, and none had surfaced at any venerable beer institutions around NYC co-incident with a time that I visited.
For the non-beer-geek readers, Hopslam routinely checks in as not only one of the best Double IPAs on the market, but also as one of the best beers of any styles, period. It's average ranking on the web beer rating aggregators RateBeer and BeerAdvocate is #10, putting it in truly elite company.
That in mind, I had spoken with a number of beer nerd friends who insisted that Hopslam didn't merit the hype - that it was insufficiently hoppy, or balanced, or flavorful. These folks had routinely pegged it as still "very good", but not fit for the same rarified air as the Heady Toppers and Pliny the Elders of the world. Additionally, Bell's very well-regarded Two Hearted Ale (an IPA) had been something of a let-down when I tried it, which only served to further augment my critical guardedness.
Given the tension between "official" praise and anecdotal skepticism, I had flagged Hopslam as a must try, if only to help resolve the question of its level of excellence one way or the other.
After finishing at work, I made my way over to the store nearby my house that features the best beer selection in the neighborhood. I visit several times a week to check out the new brews that they've gotten in, and often stop to chat with one of the two extremely knowledgeable beer geeks that man the shelves there. These conversations almost always involve appraisal of some rare beer's quality, comparisons of the relative merit of one beer to another, and swapping of tips, hints, and reviews regarding where you can find the best beer at any given point around the 5 boroughs.
This occasion unfolded no differently, except that at the close, my fellow beer geek and conversational partner gestured to me with a paper bag on my way out of the store. As he opened, my eyes almost fell out of my head - there was a bottle of Hopslam, in the flesh! When he found out that I hadn't tried it, he handed me the bag and smiled. No expectation, no transactions - just one beer nerd helping out another beer nerd, letting him in on the experience of one of the world's (purportedly) greatest beers.
I could hardly believe my luck, and his generosity! I booked it home as fast as my legs could carry me, settling onto the couch to finally take a crack at the legendary Hopslam.
I started with the label, which features some poor soul stuck Wicked-Witch-of-the-West style under three enormous hops clusters that seem to have landed smack dab on him. As I pored over the description, I was surprised to see that Bell's specifically mentioned including honey in the brewing process. I hadn't previously been aware of this addition, but it only served to further whet my palate for the upcoming tasting.
Hopslam pours orange-golden with a darker cast to the middle of the glass. There's a pronounced, strong white ring around the edges that lasts. Any swirling leaves wicked streaking legs on the glass. The first smell is intoxicating - big citrus hits first, centering on juicy ruby red grapefruit, followed by a round, punch-like aroma with a slight biscuity whiff around the edges. Further inhalation amazingly elicits the unmistakeable scent of passionfruit. This one drinks with a medium-to-heavy mouthfeel, with a nice bit of carbonation innervating the body. The overall impression on the palate is smooth as can be. The hoppy flavors roll in without too much fanfare, but resolve in successive waves of bright, honey-coated swallows that close with a nice bitterness wrapped around a malty backbone.
I was blown away. Even with all of my skeptical guard up, this beer asserted itself so persuasively that I couldn't not love it. Embarrassingly deep in aroma, wonderful on the palate, and balanced as can be, Hopslam handily earns a very high 4.5/5. This puts it squarely in fourth out of all of the examples of the style that I've tasted, trailing only Pliny the Elder, Heady Topper, and Rye da Tiger.
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As if that well-orchestrated mass of sensations wasn't enough to bring a smile to my face, I kept returning to the fact that another beer-love had let me in on this amazing brew simply out of a sense of generosity and a desire to democratize the experience of having such a renowned beer. It was humbling, in a way - just like tasting Hopslam for the first time.
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