Peaches and Herb said it best

Much time (two weeks) has passed since the season's first taste of Pumpkinhead crossed my palette. That lifeless liquid anticlimax, for some reason my favorite fall beer of all time. But such contempt? It didn't make sense, and I searched for the reason.

Weeks of experimentation with Wolaver's and a renewal of interest in Autumn Brew ensued. I savored both, appreciating their distinctive, spicy slaps to the mouth. I enjoyed them, devil may care, as my compatriot from Portland sat idly by, wondering when I would return. When would I? I couldn't say.

Then a chance encounter at Firefly saw my old friend paired with Stoli Vanil. A time honored combination. To me it represents what Pumpkinhead could be, if it only tried. Of course, this is the tale of the tape for Shipyard's Smashed Pumpkin, which I believe is only a fairytale beverage. But staying on point - without Russia's finest, what is Pumpkinhead anyway. You can't put Brian Daubach on steroids and call him a great hitter.

More days of Wolaver's, and a return to form with Halloween Ale. But a collective buildup of flavor that was reaching a pinnacle now. Little did I know.

An icy cold Pumpkinhead draft last night at the Backroom spoke to me. Suddenly, after weeks of flavor anhilliation, the senses were liberated. For the first time, the subtlety of Pumpkinhead shined through like a vehicle mounted spotlight pierces the translucent curtains in a random woman's bedroom window on a cold November night. The stunning simplicity struck me in way it never has. Or maybe it was the effect imparted by pounding two in a row. Nonetheless, in that moment, we reunited. And it felt so good.

Hello old Friend!

Beer date: September 2. After a morally satisfying 10-mile mountain bike ride in the quiet night wilderness of Bear Brook State Park, I take my usual seat at the roadhouse, where I order up the season's first Pumpkinhead. Steeped in anticipation, my mind floods with pleasant memories of my favorite fall staple. It arrives; it's subdued coppery hue looking just as wonderful as I remember. In my haste, not a taste, but a first gulp - and it all comes back to me now as I sit here. Watery and completely unfulfilling, this is Pumpkinhead.

Three Philosophers

Ommegang Brewery
9.8% Alc./vol.
Unknown IBU

I've never been a big fan of belgian or "Belgian style" beers which this brew happens to be. There have been a few I've enjoyed, but for the most part I'm a meat and potatoes kind of beer drinker. I get more excited by the masterful execution or a novel twist of the more pedestrian styles of ale than I do sampling exotic brews.

I'm about 5 sips in so I'll start with my first impressions and see how it progresses from there. I began by pouring my first glass into the wrong type of glass; a Duvel tulip. Three Philosophers should probably be served in a Chimay chalice, but I can't find mine at the moment. I'll toast St. Anthony and see if he knows where it is.

The initial pour released a surprisingly complex arrangement of fruit, champagne, floral notes and a hint of yeast. Very pleasant, but it dissipated quickly. Thick, rich and foamy head tinted slightly beige. The flavor is subtle, malty with a hint of cherry. It finishes sharp and dry reminiscent of biting into a green apple. I'm reminded again of champagne and wouldn't be surprised if they used champagne yeast in the final fermentation. Clean aftertaste though slightly boozy, which I like; kind of a warm fuzzy feeling.

Three Philosophers is a Belgian style ale blended with Kriek, which explains the cherries. I can tell while sipping that if it weren't for the Kriek, this would be a very rich and sweet ale. The Kriek balances that out nicely and counters the sweetness with sour cherries.

All in all this is an enjoyable beer, but not an everyday one for me. The clean taste makes it a versatile beer and would be welcome at cocktail hour, during and after dinner or even with a sorbet and fruit course, if your pants are fancy.