Brewer: DC Brau
Location: Washington, D.C.
Type: American Porter
ABV: 5.5%

Minus a couple of forays into Scottish brews and a trip out to Colorado and Hawaii, I realize that I’ve been keeping it pretty close to home for my Febrewary picks. I would apologize, but I’m not that sorry that I live in an area surrounded by some really amazing craft brew happenings. Tis a grand time to be an East Coast Beer Snob.

My latest beer comes from the Capitol City itself (although not from Capitol City Brewing). DC Brau is the first packaging brewery within city limits since 1956. So sayeth their Web site. They’ve been around for a few years now, slowly building a name and a reputation. I’ve not had a lot of their beers, because it’s taken them a little while to move out into the suburbs. However, I can say that they make a fantastic Imperial Pumpkin Porter. One of the easiest growlers I’ve ever made my way through.

At first, they only offered their Penn Quarter Porter as a draft beer. However, it quickly became one of their more popular brews, so they slowly moved into bottling and now offering it in cans. I’ve already talked about my feelings toward canned beer. I’m sure that I’m just being persnickety or even excessively snobby, but I don’t like that tinny can taste that I can detect right after pouring. It’s not there with all beers, true. In fact, the next beer to appear here is one of those that I can drink right from the can and not be bothered (ooh, previews!). Maybe it’s the darker beers that somehow interact with the aluminum in bad ways? Who’s to say.

Anyway, DC Brau writes on the Penn Quarter Porter can that they recommend pouring this beer into a goblet. I have one (from Flying Dog, natch), but I completely forgot. Besides, I love my LobaBlanca Brewing Company glasses. How could I not? As you can see, this porter forms a luscious head of foam…thick and luxurious and lacey all the way down the glass as you drink.

There is, however, a slight problem. Perhaps one of you can help me, denizens. I’ve talked about this problem before, in my review of Evolution’s Lucky 7 Porter. When I take a deep breath of the Penn Quarter Porter? I smell soap. It’s not quite as prominent as the Lucky 7 soap scent, but it’s there, sort of haunting the perimeter of earthy, loamy smells that conjure the more traditional porter bouquet.

With the Lucky 7, I thought that perhaps something went wrong with that particular batch. However, detecting the same soapy smell in another porter is making me wonder if this might be a case of me reacting to a particular hops variety the ways some people react to cilantro. I tried to figure out what type of hops both these porters include, but I didn’t have much luck with a cursory Web search. So any of you lovelies know what type of hops they use? If they both use the same variety, I’m going to go with this theory that it’s me rather than the beer. If not, however, that might mean that this is another bad batch of beer.

The happy news is that I couldn’t taste soap when I finally took a sip. Instead, that loaminess, that deep earthen richness like freshly tilled soil was the predominant sensory sensation. This is quite an elemental porter in that regard. Not really all that sweet or heavy, but rather rich and hearty, with a slightly dry finish. Peat bogs and mulched leaves after a cold autumn rain. This is a…hiking beer. A fireside beer. Something that evokes flavor complexity but in a savory, slightly ascetic way. Similarly, it’s a solid mouth feel, but it doesn’t stay longer than it needs to. This is not a clingy porter.

Still, that soapy smell detracted several points for this beer. I realized halfway through that I was holding my breath each time I took a drink, which was a definite downer. The reason I pour my beers into a glass is because I want that full sensory experience. I want to see it, smell it, and taste it. Fearing the smell of this beer was a major bummer.

I bought a six-pack when I treated myself to my Flying Dog Cinnamon Porter, so I’ll be giving this batch at least one more shot. After that, though, it might be a while before I revisit Penn Quarter. It’s not really that safe a place to go anyway. Just ask Mr. Lincoln…

Macabre D.C. historical humor, FTW.