If you’re a fan of barleywine style ales, chances are you're a fan of Bigfoot. After all, barleywines can perhaps be listed among the most eccentric of beers. Rich in malt, high in alcohol, some with hints of butterscotch, usually low in carbonation, and a few rather hoppy. The hoppy ones usually come from the west coast of the United States, and Bigfoot Barley Wine is definitely in that category.

At times, this beer has unfortunately been very limited in its distribution, but it is also a beer that ages rather nicely, so stumbling upon previous years' production can be a blessing. Because if stored properly (and sometimes even if not), Bigfoot will keep for years and actually improve as time goes by.

Some enjoy the beer only with a year or so of age on it. Others, myself included, enjoy it young or aged. It's a sipping brew to be sure, best in my opinion on a cool night just before bedtime. But I’d never turn down a Bigfoot, even in the midst of the dog days of summer.

Bigfoot really enjoys a cult phenomenon amongst beer geeks. Many will buy cases of the stuff upon its release each January or so, and sock much of it away for the following year’s drinking. Pilgrimages will be made to get the stuff, and stories will be told about them in later years.

When I moved from Rhode Island to Georgia in 2001, I was aghast at the prospect of no longer finding my beloved Bigfoot. Georgia’s archaic beer laws prohibited it being sold here, since Bigfoot runs a whopping 9.6% alcohol by volume, about twice that of most beers.

So, sadly, I missed Bigfoot in 2002 and 2003. It wasn’t until the summer of 2004 when, vacationing in New Orleans, I came across the legendary ‘Foot in a liquor store there and enjoyed its wonderful complexity again. They were selling singles, and I have fond memories of drinking the stuff from the bottle, wrapped carefully in a brown paper bag, late at night through the streets of the Big Easy.

But Bigfoot brings back lots of other memories, too. Here's what I thought of the 1995 run with a year's age on it:

The beer is a muddy red in color, with a very light head, though this head is a bit more than most barley wines possess. The nose is still quite hoppy, with subtle hints of butterscotch and fresh bread. These notes carry over into the palate, and sipping the beer slowly allows the rich sweet maltiness to yield to the bitter hop finish. The bubblegum notes usually apparent in young Bigfoot seem to have subsided. A world-class brew.

In May, 1999 I was fishing through the beer fridge and grabbed a Bigfoot that I thought was a 1999, or maybe one of my last few 1998's. But I looked at the cap as I popped it off and it was a 1997. I honestly don't know how it lasted in the fridge that long, but there it was.

The nose was big and malty with a touch of piny hops left. The palate was
chewy caramel, huge malt goodness, with a decent dose of hops left, some
citric orange and grapefruit notes. A hint of chocolate. Big alcohol warmth. Piny, lingering bitterness. No oxidation, but I'm sure this was kept cold since I bought it. Just incredible, I'm sure it could have aged quite a bit longer.

Though it is true that the high levels of both malt and hops allow the beer to age well, one should most definitely experience the brew young to make a determination of personal preference. I for one enjoy the interaction of rich malt with a very high hopping rate that can only be experienced when the beer is fresh.

And that’s how I’m drinking my Bigfoot today. In a way, this one is kind of special: it’s the first annual release to be legally sold in Georgia. My 2005 Bigfoot Barleywine pours to a bright reddish amber color with a light, filmy head formation and a heady sweet malt and bitter hop nose.

Take that sip. Wow! It’s like getting hit with a malt sledgehammer and a hop jackhammer all at the same time. The palate is one huge rich caramelly malt delight, thick and chewy as it slides over the tongue. But no sooner than you can say “Bob’s your uncle”, the hops kick in: tons of them.

Big piney resiny nuggety fresh-handful-of-hops out of the bag type hoppiness. And then in the finish, a bitterness that’s unbelievably intense. Ninety (count ‘em) IBU’s of bitterness that dominate the finish of what would otherwise be an immensely sweet ale. And they linger on your tongue for a long time.

If you don’t like bitter, then this isn’t the beer for you at all. Bittered early on in the boil with Chinooks, finished with Cascades and Centennials for aroma, then dry-hopped on all three, this is a hop lover’s delight. But you should know that as it ages the hops will subside a bit and the chewy malt emerge a bit more.

On a scale of one to five, this gets a six.