Slam Dunkel

Normally I take the photo before I take a sip, but this smelled so unique curiosity got the better of me.

Normally I take the photo before I take a sip, but this smelled so unique curiosity got the better of me.

The Specs: Whistler Brewing Co.’s Winter Dunkel
650 mL, 5 per cent ABV, limited release


So, Bad Riders, how do you feel about chocolate oranges?

Depending on how you answer, you’re likely either going to love or hate Whistler Brewing Co.’s Winter Dunkel.

When I say chocolate oranges, I don’t mean any old orange and chocolate combo here. I’m thinking specifically of those foil-covered, milk chocolate, “whack and unwrap” balls that tend to appear in the candy aisle as the holidays get nearer.

If you’re in any way unenthusiastic about a beer version of that candy, Dunkel is probably not the brew for you.

On the nose, the beer is all fresh orange zest and milk chocolate, and there’s plenty of the same on the tongue. I say milk chocolate for a reason. The flavour’s on the sweet and creamy side, withs none of the bitterness or deeper cocoa notes you might expect with a darker chocolate.

There is, however, a little bit more going on with this beer than pure candy.

Thanks to the addition of coriander, this sweet-to-start beer actually has a finish that walks the line between savoury and spicy. Typing that out, I feel like it shouldn’t work. But it’s somehow right, in the same way that Mexican hot chocolate benefits from an infusion of chili pepper.

Without the coriander I suspect Winter Dunkel would be a little too sweet, verging on artificial. But, with the movement from candy to spice in each sip the beer stays interesting far longer, to the point where I was disappointed when my testing bomber ran out.

Another surprise — compared to Whistler’s other annual cold-weather offering, Chestnut Ale, the Winter Dunkel isn’t nearly as sweet or as heavy as I was expecting. That’s a relief. Dunkel has enough going on without piling on the richness.

(Sorry about that punny headline. I couldn’t help myself.)

Such Ale, Very Winter

Looks like a little, felt like a lot.

Looks like a little, felt like a lot.

The Specs: Howe Sound Brewing Co.’s Father John’s Winter Ale
7 per cent ABV, 1L, seasonal


There came a moment as I was scribbling notes about this beer, when I realized I’d forgotten to snap a photo.
Grabbing my half-empty solo cup and bottle, I attempted to set up the two in a way that would allow for our the beer section’s sort of shot.
No dice. I’d drunk to deep of the festive brew. And while there was enough ale left in the bottle to fill up the cup to appropriate levels… well.
If I pour it, I have to drink it, I thought, and snapped the pic as was.
All Howe Sounds brews are, due to their 1L packaging, a whole lot of beer.
But Father John’s Winter Ale would be a whole lot of brew even if served in a shot glass.
If gingerbread cake batter and beer had a torrid affair, I imagine their offspring would have a similar weight and density. This is a beer that feels thick on the tongue and heavy in the stomach. A cup of it has a richness that might sustain you through several months of winter hibernation.
The flavour profile — ginger and nutmeg, brown sugar, honey and malt — doesn’t exactly lighten the load. It’s quite sweet and while there’s lots of ginger here it doesn’t add brightness. I felt like the ale could have used something else to break up the taste. Maybe a hint of citrus, or a bit of vanilla, as you see in other winter beers.
Instead, it’s much of the same all the way through.
Whole lot of the same.
Add in the higher ABV, and I found a glass of this (OK, half a solo cup) to be as much as I could take.
I followed it up with a different beer that, while not great, was just slightly lighter and slightly more varied and breathed a sigh of relief.