Ovila Dubbel

We've just had a baby and, finally, I get to enjoy a beer with my wife.  I have been saving this one for a while, a collaboration between Sierra Nevada and the Abbey of New Clairvaux.  I have looked longingly at the sleek bottle and classy packaging many a time.  The label with the light sketch of Gothic architecture hearkens my imagination to the whole world of delicious monk brewed beers.

We open it and I pour, perhaps I'm excited, because my wife's ends up a little foamier than I had anticipated.  The colour is dense, dark amber, "like a cloudy cola," my wife says.  The smell is somewhat like that of a wine, a good Abbey ale smell, but the true smell expert has no comment because she is stuffed up with a cold.

The beer is smooth and has a robust flavour with a sweet touch.  My wife describes it as toasted, almost like prunes, leathery, like dried fruit.  We detect a nice hoppy bite at the end.  We are both satisfied.  And my wife, the true tasting expert, states, "I like it, and I'm sick."  I'm sure the brewers of Sierra Nevada have always been looking for such high praise.