Bock shock

Few terms have an effect on me like "bock". It conjures up instant images of thick, sugary, dark-gold lagers which become nigh-on impossible to drink after the third sip. Conversely, however, Mrs Beer Nut is quite fond of her bock, so if I see one when I'm out and about, I'll generally get it for her. (We have a similar arrangment with pinot noir: nectar to her; mouldy wool overcoats to me.)

And so last week I was stocking up in DrinkStore and an offer of Anchor Bock was made. Not for me, I said, but I'll get it for the wife. When she opened it some days later I was very surprised to see the beer which poured forth was a tarry shade of pitch black. That's promising, I thought.

There's no nose to speak of, straight from the fridge, but the taste is a bit of a rollercoaster. It starts with intensely sweet burnt caramel which somehow manages to coat the tongue, despite the beer itself being relatively thin. After a moment this shades into a strange and heady medicinal iodine flavour, and then this finally stretches itself out into a really quite nasty long metallic buzz.

It's complex, and highly interesting, but I didn't like it. Then again, I wasn't expecting to. The main thing is the missus enjoyed it: the one and only thing I ask of any of the world's bocks.