It’s all about the beers of summer … and here’s a link.

Next week, I’ll look at a cool India pale ale from Breckenridge Brewing Co.

– Steve

To mark it’s 30th anniversary, Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. is unleashing a lot of special brews in 2010. Fritz and Ken’s Ale is one of those, and it is spectacular.

This robust imperial stout is a collaboration between Sierra Nevada’s Ken Grossman and Anchor Brewery’s Fritz Maytag. They put their brewing minds together and concocted a roasty brew that compares very favorably with Old Rasputin from North Coast Brewing Co. It weighs in at 9.2 percent alcohol by volume. Fritz & Ken’s  is one of those beers that grabs your tongue and demands to be savored a moment before the swallow. Serve it at cellar temperature and you will be rewarded with not just one flavor but with a parade of them — there’s smoke and nuts and coffee and toast and leather  and malt and … and … and … and …   Oh, hell. Just drink some.

Upon opening my first 750 ml bottle, my first thought was that I should have bought more than one. I went back for more and have placed a bottle on the rack in our cellar. The makers say the flavors are likely to improve with a bit of aging. I contacted Sierra Nevada to ask for advice, and they suggested 2 to 5 years would be about right. Who am I to disagree?

My wife had a great idea after hearing that timeline. She suggested I save this one for our 15th wedding anniversary. A Sierra Nevada anniversary beer for my own wedding anniversary? Outstanding idea.

I’ll pop the cork on my cellared bottle August 8, 2013.

– Steve

Well, now, don’t I wish I had another one of these right now?

Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout, from the ever-impressive North Coast Brewing Company, is the kind of beer you just fall in love with. I’m not going to knock Guinness here, as I grew up on that stout and still appreciate it. Heck, you could hand me a pint right now and we’d become fast friends. But if your idea of stout is limited to that longtime, readily available beauty, there are a lot of  U.S. craft brewers out there who would love to show what a stout can truly be. Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout is an altogether different beast from your Guinness.

It pours a deep dark black, appropriate enough for a brew named after a mad monk. The luxurious, brownish-tan head persists as you work your way through the glass, and clings to the sides for as long as you will let it. Roasty, toasty aromas hover over that thick, foamy head, intoxicating in and of themselves, making all sorts of promises about the taste that awaits you.

And that’s when this stout gets you — with the first sip. You’ll want to just hold it there for a few moments, and let the complex series of rich flavors swirl around for a while. No hurry. No hurry. Relax … and enjoy. There is a bit of sweetness, a dash of dryness, a burst of toast and smoke. Coffee, caramel in the background, crusty homemade bread. Even when served refrigerator cold, this stout is just full of tasty surprises; when you serve it a lower, more proper temperature it becomes stellar. You take a sip, and wonder if it can really taste that good. You take another sip, and confirm that, yes, stout can taste that good.

OK, I’m gushing. I’m giddy, even. But this is a brew that I tried once, and then didn’t see around in my neck of the woods again. Now it’s at one of my regular beer stops, so forgive my boyish enthusiasm. It’s almost like getting World Series tickets.

This is an English style, by the way, despite the Russian Imperial Stout designation. This particular style of beer is named after the country it was exported to the most, much in the same manner as India pale ale — thoroughly British, even if it sounds like it’s from somewhere else. Russian Imperial Stouts tend to have a higher alcohol content than other stouts; Old Rasputin is 9 percent alcohol by volume, enough to induce a meditative state (although not, perhaps, a mind-clearing one …)

Enjoy.

– Steve

P.S. The Russian I studied in college went the way of iron oxide long ago, but I believe the Russian text on the label says something like “A true friend is not made quickly,” or something like that.

Wheat beers can be a tough sell, if I’m the one buying.

Wheat beers tend to be lighter fare. When well done, they make refreshing, low-alcohol session beers that go well with summer foods, playing outdoors, stuff like that.

When not done well, they tend to be way too thin for my taste. A stout or porter that fails to meet my expectations is  probably still drinkable; a wheat beer that flunks my personal taste test sometimes gets flung down the sink.

I do not like thin beer.

Now and then, though, I come across a really nice wheat beer. The latest is Agave Wheat from Breckenridge Brewery. This is a delicious, light, malty brew with enough body to satisfy me.

I’m glad I finally got a chance to try this one (so many beers, so little beer money …)

I found Brother Thelonious Abbey Ale and picked some up. I’d heard good things about this brew, so my expectations were high — and they were met.

An abbey ale is modeled after the beers brewed by Trappist monks in Belgium. If monks actually do the brewing, it’s called a Trappist ale (Chimay, Orval, Trappiste Rochefort are examples). If anyone else brews it, it’s called an abbey ale. This one is produced by North Coast Brewing Co.

Anyway, abbey ales don’t really designate a specific style the way terms such as India pale ale or stout do. One Trappist or abbey ale can be quite different from another. But there are some common tendencies: light hopping, high alcohol content, fruit or floral notes, maltiness. I like to pair them with strong cheese.