Oysters have had a long association with stout. When stouts were emerging in the eighteenth century, oysters were a commonplace food often served in public houses and taverns. Benjamin Disraeli is said to have enjoyed a meal of oysters and Guinness in the 19th century, though by the 20th century oyster beds were in decline, and stout had given way to pale ale.
The first known use of oysters as part of the brewing process of stout was in 1929 in New Zealand, followed by the Hammerton Brewery in London, UK, in 1938.[34] Several British brewers used oysters in stouts during the "nourishing stout" and "milk stout" period just after the second world war.
Modern oyster stouts may be made with a handful of oysters in the barrel or, as with Marston's Oyster Stout, just use the name with the implication that the beer would be suitable for drinking with oysters.
It is worth noting that New Zealand is still one of the few places where this particular monstrosity is brewed, and then only by a few small places. I happen to think that oysters are vile, and stouts are delicious, so I have no idea what will transpire with this brew.
I am drinking a Three Boys seasonal beer. (Three Boys is a generally good microbrewery from the South Island. ) Here goes!
It's not as oystery as I feared; in fact, it tastes more or less like a decent stout. Salty overtones appear after a second or two, and the aftertaste is distinctively marine. It leaves my mouth feeling somewhat slimy, although that may be slightly psychosomatic. As a stout, it is certainly respectable - I would order it in a bar were it available. (The dearth of stouts in New Zealand is despicable!) And it is 6.2% alcohol by volume, which is the strongest beer I have had in this country.
Strangely enough, I'm not sure what else there is to say. I was hoping to be traumatized by this experience, not lulled into complacency. I should have bought tequila instead.
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