Named for the old ridge road that runs out of Milwaukie toward Gladstone. Oatfield pours black under a tan head and drinks like dessert after dark: milk chocolate, oatmeal cookie, cocoa, and a soft coffee edge. A heavy hand of oats over Maris Otter malt makes it silky, and a touch of lactose rounds it out sweet and creamy. Cheers, neighbor!
The name has nothing to do with oats. Oatfield Road runs the ridge out of Milwaukie toward Gladstone, and it carries the name of the pioneer Oatfield family. If you grew up around here you have driven it in the dark more times than you can count. The oats in this beer are a coincidence we could not leave alone.
The Greeks had a road of their own. They looked up at the pale band across the night sky and said it was milk, spilled from Hera. The Romans called it the Via Lactea, the road of milk. Every people with a dark enough sky has given it a name, and all of them did it the same way: standing outside, late, when they should have been asleep.
So here are two roads. One runs along a ridge in Clackamas County and the other runs across everything. Oatfield sits where they meet, an oatmeal milk stout under one old oak with the whole sky turning behind it. Black in the glass, silky with oats, rounded by a touch of lactose. Milk chocolate, oatmeal cookie, cocoa, and a soft edge of coffee, for whoever is still awake.
