You know that feeling when you walk into a bottle shop, look at the wall of neon-colored IPAs, and just feel... tired? Everything is a "hazy" this or a "fruity" that. Then you see it. That black-and-white label with the intense, bearded gaze of Grigori Rasputin staring back at you. Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout isn't trying to be your friend. It isn't trying to taste like a bowl of cereal or a tropical smoothie. It’s a relic of a time when craft beer meant something heavy, something historical, and something that could probably strip paint if you weren't careful.
North Coast Brewing Company released this monster back in the mid-1990s. Think about that for a second. In the 90s, most people thought "dark beer" was just a slightly tan lager. Then along comes this 9% ABV (alcohol by volume) powerhouse from Fort Bragg, California, and suddenly the game changed. It’s a beer that has stayed exactly the same while the rest of the industry lost its mind.
What Actually Is a Russian Imperial Stout Anyway?
The name sounds like it should be brewed in a snowy basement in St. Petersburg. It wasn't. Like most things in the beer world, it’s a bit of a weird historical accident involving the British. Back in the 18th century, Thrale’s brewery in London was sending porter to Russia. The story goes that Empress Catherine the Great was a massive fan. But there was a problem: the beer kept spoiling on the long, freezing trip across the Baltic Sea.
The solution? Crank up the alcohol and the hops. High alcohol acts as a preservative. This created a "Stout Porter" so intense and rich that it became the darling of the Russian Imperial Court.
Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout is a direct homage to that "more is more" philosophy. When you pour it, it doesn't just look dark. It looks like used motor oil—thick, opaque, and topped with a head that looks like whipped chocolate mousse. If you hold it up to the light, you won't see through it. Don't even try.
The Flavor Profile Most People Miss
People talk about "coffee" and "chocolate" notes in dark beer so much that the words have almost lost their meaning. With Old Rasputin, it’s different. It’s not the sweet, milky chocolate of a candy bar. It’s the bitter, 90% cacao stuff that makes your tongue curl.
There is a massive amount of roasted malt in here. This gives it a charred, almost smoky quality. You’ve also got a surprisingly high hop bitterness—75 IBUs (International Bitterness Units)—which is more than many flagship IPAs. The hops aren't there to taste like grapefruit; they’re there to balance out the massive sweetness of the malt so the beer doesn't feel like drinking syrup.
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It’s complex. One sip is espresso. The next is dark cherry. The one after that is toasted bread crust. It’s a lot to take in.
Why the Cult of Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout Still Exists
The craft beer world is obsessed with "whales"—rare, limited-release bottles that people trade for hundreds of dollars. But Old Rasputin is a "shelf whale." You can find it at almost any decent grocery store. It’s affordable. It’s reliable. It’s basically the "Old Reliable" of the high-ABV world.
Honestly, the consistency is what’s most impressive. North Coast Brewing has won countless medals for this stuff at the Great American Beer Festival and the World Beer Cup. They aren't chasing trends. They aren't adding marshmallows or Madagascar vanilla beans to hide the base beer. It’s just water, malt, hops, and yeast, pushed to their absolute limit.
The Art of the Pour
Don't drink this cold. Just don't.
If you pull an Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout straight from the fridge and crack it open at 38°F, you’re killing the experience. The cold masks the flavors. You'll just taste "bitter" and "cold."
Instead, let it sit on the counter for fifteen or twenty minutes. As it warms up to around 50-55°F, the aromatics start to explode. You’ll actually smell the molasses and the dark fruit. Use a snifter glass or a tulip glass. The narrowed top traps those aromas so you get the full hit every time you take a sip.
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Aging Your Beer: The Cellar Secret
Most beer dies the moment it leaves the brewery. IPAs are basically ticking time bombs; after 90 days, those bright hop flavors turn into wet cardboard. But Old Rasputin is a different beast entirely. Because it has such high alcohol content and a sturdy malt backbone, it actually evolves over time.
A lot of beer nerds buy a four-pack, drink two, and shove the other two in the back of a dark closet for a year. What happens?
- The harsh "boozy" heat from the alcohol softens.
- The sharp hop bitterness fades into the background.
- New flavors emerge—think raisins, sherry, and leather.
It’s an experiment you can do for about fifteen bucks. Try a fresh one, then try one that’s been sitting for a year. You’ll see why people get so obsessed with "cellaring" stouts.
Does it actually pair with food?
Usually, stouts are called "liquid bread," and for good reason. They are filling. But if you're going to eat with an Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout, you have to go big or go home. A light salad will be obliterated by this beer. It’s like bringing a tank to a knife fight.
Go for a blue cheese—something funky and aggressive like Roquefort or Stilton. The creaminess of the cheese cuts through the bitterness of the beer, and the saltiness makes the malt pop. Or, if you’re doing dessert, go for the darkest chocolate cake you can find.
The Misconceptions and the "Old Rasputin" Mythos
There’s a lot of nonsense floating around about this beer. Some people think it’s "thick" because they put flour or oatmeal in it. Nope. That mouthfeel comes from the sheer volume of grain used in the mash. The yeast can only eat so much sugar, and what’s left behind creates that heavy, velvety texture on your tongue.
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Also, let's talk about the name. Grigori Rasputin wasn't exactly a saint. He was a mystic, a political advisor, and a man who supposedly survived multiple assassination attempts in one night. The label even features a quote in Russian that translates to "A sincere friend is a rare phenomenon." It’s moody. It’s dark. It fits the beer perfectly.
A Note on Alcohol Content
9% ABV doesn't sound like much compared to some of the 15% barrel-aged monsters out there today. But Old Rasputin hits different. It’s "dangerously drinkable," as brewers like to say. Because it’s so well-balanced, you don't always feel the punch until you stand up. Treat it with respect. It’s a sipping beer, not a "slamming-it-during-the-game" beer.
The Economics of a Legend
In an era where a single 16oz can of a "special release" stout can cost $10 or more, Old Rasputin remains surprisingly accessible. North Coast Brewing is a Certified B Corp, which means they actually give a damn about environmental and social impact. They’ve been doing this since 1988, long before "craft" was a buzzword in every suburban household.
They also produce a "Barrel-Aged" version of Old Rasputin once a year. They take the base beer and let it sit in bourbon barrels for months. It’s incredible, but honestly? The standard version is so good that you don't need the barrel to enjoy it. The base beer stands on its own two feet.
How to Properly Experience Old Rasputin
If you're ready to see what the fuss is about, don't just grab a bottle and drink it while scrolling through your phone. Do it right.
- Check the date. While it ages well, it’s worth knowing if you’re drinking a fresh batch or something that’s been sitting under grocery store lights for six months.
- Choose the right glass. Avoid the pint glass. Use something that curves inward at the top to concentrate the smell.
- Control the temperature. Aim for "cellar temp"—cool, but not icy.
- Look at the color. Pour it hard. Watch the "nitro-like" bubbles rise (even though it's not a nitro beer, it has a very fine carbonation).
- Take a small sip. Let it coat your whole mouth. Notice the transition from sweet malt to bitter char.
Actionable Insights for the Beer Lover
- The Float Test: If you want a ridiculous dessert, pour Old Rasputin over a scoop of high-quality vanilla bean ice cream. The "Rasputin Float" is a legendary move among brewers. The carbonation cuts the fat of the ice cream, and the coffee notes turn it into a weird, boozy affogato.
- Cooking with Rasputin: Use it in a chili. The bitterness and roastiness add a depth that cocoa powder or coffee usually provide. It’s a game-changer for a slow-cooker beef stew.
- The Comparison Game: Buy a bottle of Old Rasputin and a bottle of a modern "Pastry Stout." Compare them side-by-side. You’ll notice the Pastry Stout is likely much sweeter and thinner, while Old Rasputin feels more "substantial" and balanced. It’s a great way to train your palate to recognize quality malt work.
Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout is more than just a beer; it’s a benchmark. Every other imperial stout on the market is, in some way, measured against it. It’s the standard-bearer for a style that refuses to die. In a world of fleeting trends, there is something deeply comforting about a beer that is exactly what it says it is: dark, heavy, and unapologetic.
Go find a four-pack. Let it warm up. Sit in a comfortable chair. Forget the hype and just drink a piece of American craft beer history.