I’m not sure this is how The King of Beers intended for Crown (or Black Crown, in the U.S.) to be tasted, but I chilled my first bottle for a couple hours, then drank my second at room temperature. This was a two-stage tasting.
Just before I left for Europe last month, I was offered a preview of this new, more brawny Bud, but the delivery dude apparently had trouble finding the corner of Queen & Spadina. For weeks I’ve been avoiding reading others’ judgement, wanting to meditate on this with an open mind.
The bottle itself released a liquid that looked like it had been filtered from baked apricots, crowned with an off-white foam cap that had mostly dissipated before I could turn a camera on it (both bottles). From there came scents of oiled wood and orange Tang, and flavours of rye toast, dark wood and a hint of burnt caramel.
True to Budweiser’s legacy this recipe is beechwood aged for smoothness, but painted a rougher texture than I expected. What surprised me was the residual bitterness that kicked around. The woodiness that crawled up into my nose was quite nice. This is not the get-it-done, on-to-the-next finish I would typically associate with mass marketed lager.
I would pair this with a warm sweater and Tofurky Kielbasa skewered over an evening campfire. It the antenna could pick up the game, even better.
For the record, I liked Budweiser Crown better, warmer. The notable bit of that sentence is “… I liked Budweiser Crown…”