Russian Imperial Stouts

The first beer I ever enjoyed was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a Russian Imperial Stout. One night I found myself at a great burgers 'n brew joint called Prime 16 and saw "Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout" written up on the chalk board-- me being me, I had to order it, as a joke if nothing else. It was amazing, and I've been a die hard stout drinker ever since.

Apparently Peter I and I finally agree about something:

When Peter the Great opened Czarist Russia to the West in the early 18th century, dark ales called "Porter" were all the rage in England. Porters, named after the working class who devoured them, were relatively easy-drinking brews with a small percentage of highly roasted malt. The result was a dark brown, toffee-flavored libation fit for mass consumption. Arthur Guinness took the idea to Ireland, increased the dark, coffee-tinted profile and added “Extra Stout” to his label, thus creating another new beer style.

Peter the Great fell in love with stouts during his 1698 trip to England, and he requested that some be sent to the Imperial court in Russia. Much to the embarrassment of the English, the beer had spoiled somewhere along its tedious thousand-mile journey! Determined as always to save face, the Barclay brewery of London came to the rescue by rapidly increasing the amount of alcohol and hops for their second effort. The result was an inky black concoction with enough warmth and complexity to immediately become a sensation throughout Russia. The “Russian Imperial Stout” had been born and quickly became popular throughout European Russia.

That's about as good a back story as something called a Russian Imperial Stout could hope to have. On to the fun part: I went beer shopping today.

OLD RASPUTIN

You never forget your first! This stuff makes Guinness taste like a cheap rum soaked mockolate bar. You taste and feel the 9% ABV, but it's fully integrated into the flavor profile of the beer itself- I can't imagine this beer with a different alcohol ratio. I can't stand overly chocolatey stouts- Old Rasputin is nutty, fruity, and reminiscent of chocolate in ways that remind you why some people take their chocolate as seriously as their wine.

The packaging and marketing is equally brilliant. The first thing you see after Rasputin's dubious blessing are the words "NEVER SAY DIE!" written along the top of the four-pack. The Russian proverb printed beneath the portrait, "Сердечный друг не родится вдруг," means roughly "One does not become an intimate friend quickly." Style and substance- what more could anyone want?

THE CZAR

A stout so goddamn intense they only sell it by the pint (1 pint, 6 oz, technically). 11.73% ABV. Part of Avery Brewing Co's "Dictator Series": The Czar (Imperial Stout), the Kaiser (Imperial Lager), and the Maharaja (Imperial IPA). I haven't tried this yet- I'm saving it for a really special occasion- but y'all need to know it exists, and honestly, doesn't have to taste that good to kick ass, but I bet it does.

SIBERIAN NIGHT

Haven't tried this one yet either, but it looks promising. 9.7% ABV, looks just as dark as the Old Rasputin (the Czar has an interesting reddish tint to it even in the bottle)- also definitely cheaper than both the Czar and OR, so as long as it tastes better than your average Guinness it's a win in my book. I'll be reviewing all these sometime in the near future.





















Other beers I bought and will be reviewing soon:

• Peche Mortel Imperial Coffee Stout
• Duchesse de Bourgogne Belgian Ale
• Augustijn Belgian Ale
  
• Kostritzer Schwarzbier (German Black Lager)
• Staropramen Czech Lager

If you have any suggestions, let me know! There's a giant beer distributor around here that lets you create your own six packs.

Sakhalin tired of Russian neglect, looks for country who will appreciate its personality, cooking, mother-in-law

"Nikolayevsk was founded not too long ago, in 1850, by the celebrated Gennady Nevelskoy, and that may well be the single bright moment in the town's history. ... But today, nearly half of all the homes are abandoned and dilapidated, and their dark, frameless windows stare back like the empty eyepits of a skull. The inhabitants lead a lethargic, drunken life, existing hand to mouth, on whatever God provides. They subsist by supplying fish to Sakhalin, pilfering gold, exploiting the non-Russians, or selling deer antlers, from which the Chinese make stimulant pills."

- "Sakhalin Island", Anton Chekhov

Over a century later, Sakhalintsii are trying to get the heck out of Dodge--to Tokyo:

"A group of Sakhalin residents, after a visit to Tokyo, are not only studying Japanese but also collecting signatures for a petition asking that Moscow hand over their island to Japan so that they can live and raise their children in a rich, modern country that is not at war with anyone.

This remarkable action surfaced this week when radical Moscow commentator Valeriya Novodvorskaya reported in her Grani.ru column that one of the organizers, who she indicated had to remain anonymous for obvious reasons, had approached her to ask to whom he should forward their appeal.

Novodvorskaya said she advised him to “send the signatures to the Japanese emperor,” for whom they could serve as “compensation” for the harm that Japan has experienced at Russia’s hands given Moscow’s continuing unwillingness ever to return the four islands Soviet forces seized at the end of World War II."

It's that anarchist thought experiment come to life-- governments competing against each other for citizens.

"One indication that these are not entirely frivolous pursuits, she says, is that those considering leaving are to be found “in the holy of holies of the regime — in the military and defense sector,” where some senior officers, “not having received the apartments they were promised, sent a declaration to the U.S. saying they wanted to serve in the American army.”

Thus, “the collection of signatures on Sakhalin is not a rarity. Soon they will begin to be collected in Moscow.” And according to Novodvorskaya, just one thing remains: “to divide up the territory and people of Russia among the United States, Japan and the European Union” so that the Russian people will be able to live better."

I'm sure everyone at Reason and Cato is waiting with bated breath for the outcome.

Khrushchev's Other Temper Tantrum

h/t Sean's Russia Blog:

“Just now, I was told that I could not go to Disneyland,” [Khrushchev] announced. “I asked, ‘Why not? What is it? Do you have rocket-launching pads there?’ ”

The audience laughed.

“Just listen,” he said. “Just listen to what I was told: ‘We—which means the American authorities—cannot guarantee your security there.’ ”

He raised his hands in a vaudevillian shrug. That got another laugh.

“What is it? Is there an epidemic of cholera there? Have gangsters taken hold of the place? Your policemen are so tough they can lift a bull by the horns. Surely they can restore order if there are any gangsters around. I say, ‘I would very much like to see Disneyland.’ They say, ‘We cannot guarantee your security.’ Then what must I do, commit suicide?”

Khrushchev was starting to look more angry than amused. His fist punched the air above his red face.

“That’s the situation I find myself in,” he said. “For me, such a situation is inconceivable. I cannot find words to explain this to my people.”

The audience was baffled. Were they really watching the 65-year-old dictator of the world’s largest country throw a temper tantrum because he couldn’t go to Disneyland?

Sitting in the audience, Nina Khrushchev told David Niven that she really was disappointed that she couldn’t see Disneyland. Hearing that, Sinatra, who was sitting next to Mrs. Khrushchev, leaned over and whispered in Niven’s ear.

“Screw the cops!” Sinatra said. “Tell the old broad that you and I will take ‘em down there this afternoon.”

Sinatra as quasi libertarian/anarchist hero, whisking Khrushcheva off to Disneyland? I'm gonna commit this story to memory.

Russian Futurists in a Nutshell

From Featuring Talking Guinea Pigs:

Man: 1st generation of futurists
Guinea pig: everyone else

Oriental Trends in the Fall '09 Fashion Season

AKA: How Russians Dress in My Wildest Fantasies.

Design: Karl Lagerfeld

Model: Hanna Rundlof

Ivan IV chic.

Design: Christian Dior

Model: Anja Rubik

Design: Christian Dior
Model: Sigrid Agren
Design: Christian Dior
Model: Heidi Mount
Design: Christian Dior
Model: Erin Heatherton

It's 1920s Moscow -WWI +economic prosperity!

Some comparisons:
Ivan IV & Vasilia Melentyevna
Ivan IV & Beloved Son
Ivan IV at his son's deathbed

Review of Laurie Manchester's /Holy Fathers, Secular Sons: Clergy, Intelligentsia, and the Modern Self in Revolutionary Russia/ by Christopher Read

From the American Historical Review, Vol 114, No 3 (June 2009).

"At the heart of Manchester's book is an analysis of the small--maybe one percent of the population (p.12)--group of sons of priests (popovichi). Traditionally, scholars have dismissed them as raznochintsy (people of miscellaneous ranks). Instead, Manchester presents them as a relatively clearly defined class with its own ethos and with an influence extending well beyond the church and well beyond its numerical strength."

I've always thought of Raskolnikov as a pretty stereotypical raznochinets.

"In particular, she illustrates many places, including the early Bolshevik Party, where popovichi exerted an influence, despite their small numbers. ... Among such fascinating insights, Manchester notes the way the popovichi identified themselves against the earlier, noble-descended intelligentsia, and how the attempt by Dmitrii Tolstoi to corral popovichi within the clerical estate by refusing to recognize their qualifications as valid for university entrance in fact ensured the values of the seminary would spread to society."

Add this to the long, long list of reasons there's never been a strong libertarian movement in Russia: an influential portion of its intelligentsia were the sons of priests (Catholic liberal embrace of the welfare state, anyone?).

"There are also tantalizing glimpses of unusual attitudes among the popovichi toward sexuality. Aleksei Dmitrievskii failed to consummate his marriage because 'romantic passion' was satisfied by his work. 'Scholarship is the most charming of the women in the world...its embrace...takes care of all the afflictions and misfortunes of life,' he wrote. Note surprisingly, his wife did not agree and left him (p. 185)."

Guess who was the son of a priest? Nikolai Chernyshevsky, socialist-marxist-utilitarian extraordinaire, and author of What is to be done? (so good that Lenin stole the title!). There are some great footnotes in this edition that delve into Chernyshevsky's theories about romantic life; if you've somehow dragged yourself through the beast of a 'novel' you'll understand just as well. Manchester based her book on "a study of 207 identifiable popovichi." It's terrifying how accurate a portrait such a study painted.

"...in Manchester's words, 'popovichi did not repudiate the clerical traditions of the Russian Orthodox Church,' but 'they managed paradoxically to see themselves as leaving the clergy in order to preserve clerical traditions and impose them on secular society.' This, she argues, is 'the very opposite of traditional secularization theory and dechristianization' (p.155)."

Noted.

Painting: Philosophers - Mikhail Nesterov

The Intelligentsia and the Revolution - Aleksandr Blok

While known mostly for his (admittedly brilliant) poetry, Aleksandr Blok was also a profound essayist. If you thought Hemingway captured the ennui and detachment of the Great War, just you wait 'n see.

"What is the war like? Bogs, bogs, and bogs, overgrown with grass or covered with snowdrifts; in the west, a dreary German searchlight- groping- night after night. On a sunny day a German Fokker appears; it doggedly flies along one and the same path, as if a path could be worn and befouled even in the sky. Little puffs of smoke spread out around it, white, gray, reddish (that's us shooting at it, hardly ever hitting; like the Germans- at us). The Fokker is flustered, falters, but tries to stay on its foul little path; sometimes it methodically drops a bomb. This means that the spot it aims at has been punctured on the map by dozens of German staff officers. The bomb falls, now on a graveyard, now on a herd of cattle, now on a herd of people, but more often, of course, into a bog; that's thousands of people's rubles in a bog."

Jeez. Someone's a Debbie Downer.

"Europe has gone insane. The flower of manhood, the flower of the intelligentsia, sits for years in a bog, sits with conscious determination (isn't that symbolic?) on a narrow strip a thousand versts long, which is called 'the front.'"

I think now's a good time to mention that the Russian word for God is Бог, pronounced "bog".

"What has a people or a man to live for who... thinks that being alive 'isn't too bad but not very pleasant either,' because 'everything goes its ordained way'- the way of evolution- and that people, generally speaking, are so shoddy and imperfect that the best they can expect, God willing, is to blunder through their life span somehow, knocking together societies and states, blocking themselves off from one another with little walls of rights and obligations, conventional laws, conventional relationships."

Blok's alternate title for this piece was "Why Tristyn Bloom Should End Her Sorry Existence."

"Could even a grain of the truly precious be lost? We have loved too little if we fear for the things we love. ... A palace that is being destroyed is no palace."

Circular logic, or inspiring call to revolution? Early 20th century Russians can't tell the difference.

"The ground under the bourgeois' feet is as concrete as the muck under the hog's: family, money, position, medal, rank, God on his ikon, the Tsar on his throne. ... The intelligent has always boasted that he never had that kind of ground to stand on. ... Skill, knowledge, methods, habits, talents are nomadic, winged possessions. We are homeless, familyless, rankless, poor- what have we to lose?"

What have you to fight for?

"Proud politicking is a great sin. The longer the intelligentsia remain aloof and sarcastic, the more terror and bloodshed there will be. Dreadful and dangerous is that elastic, dry, unsavory "adogmatic dogmatics" seasoned with patronizing soulfulness. Behind the soulfulness is blood. The soul attracts blood. Only the spirit can combat horror. Why bar with soulfulness the way to spirituality? The good is hard as it is."

I have a feeling that if I wrote a script to randomly generate early Russian revolutionary tracts, the result would come out something like this.

Life of Our Blessed Father Theodosius

I love all of the Russian Saints' Lives, but this one is particularly dear to me. I'm going to make a pilgrimage to the Monastery of the Caves (Киево-Печерская лавра) one day.

"He did not draw near to the children playing, as is the custom of youth, but disdained their games. His clothing was poor and patched. For this reason his parents many times tried to force him to dress in clean clothing and to go out and play with the children; but he did not obey them in this, but willed even more to be like one of the poor."

oh-em-gee he recognizes that the judgment of his parents is fallible no waiiii.

"Thenceforth he began to be more persevering in his works, as when he would go away with the serfs to the country and act with all manner of humility. But his mother would hinder him, not wishing him to do such things..."

Wait what? His mother doesn't have his best interest in mind?

"She would often get angry at him and beat him; for she was strong and solid in body as a man, and, indeed, if someone could not see her but only hear her conversing, he would begin to think she was a man."

Slavic women for the win.

"Having gotten up during the night and not letting anyone know, secretly went out of the house, not taking with him anything except the clothing he was wearing, and even that was poor. And in that manner he went away behind the pilgrims. ... After three days his mother, having found out... rode hurriedly a long way, and, catching up with them, took Theodosius. And from rage and anger his mother grasped him by the hair and threw him upon the ground and kicked him with her feet. And, having severely reproached the pilgrims, she returned home leading her son tied like a villain."

A few months prior to this his father died. See what happens in the absence of a strong father figure?

"Being gripped by such great anger, even when they had arrived home, she beat him until she could no longer. And after this she led him to a room, tied him up, and locked the door as she left. The divine youth, however, accepted all these things with joy, and praying to God, gave thanks."

He's thirteen here, by the way.

"She... began with entreaty to persuade him not to run away from her, for she loved him very much more than her other children and for this reason could not bear living without him. And when he promised that he would not leave her, she removed the irons from his legs."

Love. Right.

"Having again seen him baking sacramental wafers and becoming blackened from the fire in the oven, she deplored it greatly. And from that time she began again to scold him, sometimes with caresses, sometimes with terror, and at other times beating him to make him forsake such work."

When you're beating your eldest son for baking the fucking Eucharist, the problem is probably with you.

"The blessed Theodosius, having gone to one of the smithies, ordered him to forge an iron chain; and taking it, he girded his loins with it and went about thus. And although the iron was tight and gnawed into his body, he remained as though his body were suffering no injury from it. ... And so while he was dressing himself in the clean garment, being simple in mind and not minding her presence, she was carefully watching, wishing to see more clearly; and lo, she saw on his undergarment blood, which came from the gnawing of the iron. Having become excited with anger against him and having risen with rage and torn apart the undergarment on him, beating him, she removed the iron from his loins."

Is it manly to take this many beatings from your mother?

"Then the elder went out and said to her: 'I have pleaded with him much, but he does not deign to come out to thee.' Thenceforth she began not to speak to the elder with humility, but cried out with anger: 'So! Thou art the monk who has taken my son and hidden him in a cave and thou dost not want to show him to me. Bring my son out to me, monk, so that I may see him; for if I do not see him, I cannot bear to remain alive. ... For lo, I will kill myself before the doors of this cave if thou dost not show him to me.'"

Shut the fuck uuup. Why didn't you let her, Antonius? Why?

"But the blessed one said to her: 'Then if thou wishest to see me every day, come to this city, and having entered one of the nunneries, take the veil. ... If thou dost not do this, then I tell thee the truth: from this time forth thou wilt not see my face.'"

Finally, Theo grows a pair!

"The two younger princes started fighting with their elder brother, the religious Iziaslav, and forced him out of the capital city of Kiev. When the two brothers entered Kiev they sent for venerable Abbot Theodosius... Abbot Theodosius, who knew of the injustice accorded to Iziaslav, and being inspired by the Holy Ghost, gave an answer according to the Holy Spirit. 'I shall not go to the feast of Jezebel and taste the fruit of murder covered with blood.'"

So the Russians wrote a Bildungsroman eight centuries before the Germans figured it out... of course, in the Russian 11th century version, the protagonist attains badassery instead of self-fulfillment. I think it's pretty clear which is the superior genre (not that this is fiction).

First Epistle of Prince Andrey Kurbsky

Written to the Tsar and Grand Prince of Moscow [Ivan IV] in consequence of his fierce prosecution:

"If you have understanding, may you understand this with your leprous conscience- such a conscience as cannot be found even amongst the godless peoples."

Just so everyone's clear, this is Ivan the Terrible this man's writing to. Ivan... the Terrible.

"But I cannot now recount the various misfortunes at your hands which have beset me owing to their multitude and since I am filled with the grief of my soul."

What a whiny little bitch.

"Think not that concerning these things I will remain silent before you; to my end I will incessantly cry out with tears against you to the everlasting Trinity, in which I believe; and I will call to my aid the Mother of the Lord of the Cherubims, my hope and protectress, Our Lady, the Mother of God, and all the Saints, the elect of God, and my master and forefather, Prince Fedor Rostislavich, whose corpse remains incorruptible, preserved throughout the ages, and emits from the grave sweet odours, sweeter than aromatics, and, by the grace of the Holy Ghost, pours forth miraculous healing streams, as you, O tsar, know well."

Ah, pious you may be, Prince Kurbsky, but can you overcome the sin wrought on your soul by the length of this one ungodly sentence?

"I have heard from sacred writings that a destroyer will be sent by the devil against the human race, a destroyer conceived in fornication, the Antichrist, hostile to God; and now I have seen a counsellor, known to all, who was born in adultery and who today whispers falsehoods in the ears of the tsar and sheds Christian blood like water and has already destroyed the strong and noble in Israel, as one in agreement with the Antichrist in deed."

Apparently not.

"...we who have been banished and driven out by you without justice from the land cry out day and night to God, however much in pride you may boast in this temporal, fleeting life, devising vessels of torture against the Christian race, yea, and abusing and trampling on the Angelic Form, with the approbation of your flatterers and comrades of the table, your quarrelsome boyars, the destroyers of your soul and body, who urge you on to aphrodisiacal deeds and, together with their children, act more viciously than the priests of Cronus."

Little known historical fact: emo dates back to the Riurikid dynasty.