Try a tasty Saint Somewhere Lectio Divina
First, I have to admit a hint of bias. I bought amy first Saint Somewhere’s Lectio Divina at my neighborhood Candler Park Market because, quite frankly, I feel in love with the bottle. I know, I know. You can’t judge a book by its cover and all that. But with a front label that suggests the idyllic whimsy of Maxfield Parrish and a lyrical back label that echoes, almost, the pen of my favorite poet, William Butler Yeats, they could have filled the thing with mule piss, and I would have been predisposed to like it. Thankfully, they did no such thing. The Belgian-style ale inside absolutely lives up to it packaging. The brewers are every bit as talented as the marketing folks.
Saint Somewhere Lectio Divina comes in a tall bottle that easily fills two pint glasses, making it perfect to share. As you can see from the picture I stole off the Internet, the bottle is topped with a champagne style cork. Be careful with that. I’d just started to twist the wire cage when the cork shot out, bouncing around the kitchen like a superball (missing anything breakable, thank heaven) and scaring my poor wife and dogs half to death. The aroma is apparent at once: complex and yeasty as you’d expect from a Belgian pale ale but pleasantly fruity and sweet, too. Lectio Divina pours a hazy amber red, with an off-white head that fades quickly, leaving a pleasant lace around the rim of the glass.
The body is medium—not nearly as heavy as I was expecting, even for a pale ale. The taste is surprising and wonderful. It starts off with a surprising sweet that gives way to waves of wonderful wheaty grain and spice flavor, and finishes with a fruity citrus aftertaste that’s sweet and almost tart, although hardly puckering. As the glass empties, the taste wavers between grains, caramelized sugar, spice, and citrusy sweetness, always complex, surprising, and delicious. It’s also quite refreshing, and pairs very well with food.
Overall, I’d say this has far too much flavor and complexity to be a saison/farmhouse style or a pale ale, and it’s a little too silky smooth to be, say, an abbey double. It lies somewhere in between. It’s delicious, complex, and decidedly unique. It’s certainly one I’ll buy again, and I am eager to try Saint Somewhere’s other offers.
I’m not quite ready to award it an A+ yet … that’s reserved for special favorites like mighty Aventinus. But it’s a solid A in my book, with extra points for originality, and my wife gives it a B+. Give it a try if you’re in one of the thirty states where it’s available, and as always, be sure to let me know what you think.
I’ve got a couple of book reviews, a Web TV review, and another beer review coming later this month, so stay tuned. And if you don’t mind, please use of of the links below to help spread the word. Thanks!