The glossary of Martyn Cornell’s authoritative Amber Gold & Black is kind, especially for this particular reader, in its clear definition of old ale. Cornell puts it as follows: “a name given to any strong aged pale or brown beer.” Things vary, as they tend to. What constituted old ale often depended on one’s time and location, and Cornell unpacks some relations between old ales and other historical strong groups—Burton ales, stock ales, etc.—in the chapter “Barley Wine and Old Ale.” The chapter also highlights a scene from the book Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, wherein a certain Squire Hamley offers his visiting physician a glass of old ale, from a cask that he had been cellaring since the birth of his first son, Osborne.

“You must have a glass full,” he says. “It’s old ale, such as we don’t brew now-a-days. It’s as old as Osborne. We brewed it that autumn and we called it the young Squire’s ale.”

It’s worth noting Osborne was over 21 at this time, and that the physician “had to sip it very carefully as he ate his cold roast beef” due to the aged beer’s potency. It’s interesting to think just how long we have been able to create beers that can last for decades… At RateBeer.com, the old-ale style descriptions (presumably still overseen by the well-traveled Josh Oakes) note there are at least three or four styles coalescing under the ‘old ale’ umbrella. But I particularly dig the last sentence, which reflects my own skewed experience stateside: “For me, these are robustly malty beers, akin to a top-fermented version of a dopplebock.” And they often are.

Have you gotten to check out any old-ale releases? AleSmith, Kuhnhenn, The Bruery, North Coast and Harviestoun are all reliable spots to check for cellarable examples. Any hitting the spot? Sampled a beer as old as Osborne? Join the conversation on Twitter @RareBeerClub.

The Rare Beer Club is featuring two barrel-aged beers this month: Nebraska Brewing Co.’s HopAnomaly, aged in French-oak Chardonnay barrels, and American Solera’s The Ground Is Shaking!, which spent eighteen-plus months inside of Vin Santo wine casks from Italy.

It’s pretty remarkable to consider how much the act of barrel-aging beers has taken off over the course of 25-ish years. Before I left All About Beer this fall to get back to freelancing, we had Jeff Alworth take on the history of Goose Island’s Bourbon County Brand Stout, which was the first barrel-aged beer of its kind when it was created in the early 1990s. (Jeff has been doing great stuff in his Classic Beer column, and this one is definitely worth checking out for a deep-dive into barrel lore.) We’ve quickly gone from a time when aging beers in barrels was a pretty weird thing to do—even the now-conventional stuff, like bourbon, brandy or rum—to our rather different present circumstances. You’ll find beers aged in Fernet barrels, Grand Marnier barrels, maple-syrup barrels and tabasco barrels. It’s approaching true that any food-ish product that gets barrel-aged itself has had some of its resulting barrels used to age beer.

So, aside from tabasco, obviously, what’s your favorite type of barrel for beer?

My first thought was whiskey or brandy, just considering all of the exceptional BA imperial stouts and barleywines over the years. I’ll often get a lot of chalkiness from Brett beers aged in red-wine barrels, and tequila and I have an evolving relationship—so no to both of those. While I rarely drink Chardonnay (we’re generally Pinot people), it’s Chardonnay barrels that I’ve personally found most intriguing expressed in beer, especially with a pale base. Russian River’s Temptation. Side Project’s Saison du Fermier. Anchorage Bitter Monk. Yes, please.