Overdosing on Cinnamon Roll

by Jim Lundstrom

Disappointed last night by something calling itself a Scotch ale, tonight – an impossibly cold and rainy night – I reached deep into the magic fridge and hoped I would have better luck.
And struck black gold in the form of a bottle of beer from Southern Tier Brewing of Lakewood, N.Y. This is a brewery that has yet to disappoint, and after being sadly disappointed by something calling itself a Scotch ale, I was absolutely ready to tuck into this seasonal Cinnamon Roll Imperial Ale, brewed with cinnamon and caramel.

My taste buds were still craving a sweet, malty beer after the Scotch ale fiasco, and here it was, an 8.6 percent liquid cinnamon roll. And, yes, it does taste just like a big, fat cinnamon roll. 




Funny thing is, I don’t eat things such as cinnamon rolls any more. Beer has been my only form of carb intake for the past 18 months or so, and not so much of that as I used to either. So what a treat this liquid cinnabun is.
Just as if you were biting into a big sticky bun with gooey vanilla frosting and cinnamon. Even the breadiness is there.
But guess what? Halfway through the 12-ounce and bottle and I am full to the gills, as if I have just gorged on a big plate of fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls. And now all I can taste is the sweetness and cinnamon. The base brown ale – I assume that’s what lies underneath it all – has disappeared and I feel like I’ve made a pig of myself. My lips are practically stuck together. My belly has extended. I feel a sugar rush. What I have I done!

Yes, this is a beer that needs to be shared because one sip too much and you feel like you have overindulged. Let loose in the bakery, you’ve eaten everything in sight.