Hair of the Dog Matt, Matt is a Sick Bro, Boozy, But Super Chill.

Oh wow, another top 100 beer? Look who is on a roll this week and has two thumbs, ::using index fingers:: this guy.

Like most of the Matt's I know, this one is boozy but super chill.

Hair of the Dog, Matt, American Strong Ale, 11.5% abv

A: This beer is flatter than a Taiwanese gymnast. No head to speak of and mild reluctant bubbles at the edges are the underwhelming response after a hard pour. It is a deep dark plum/mahogany color with no middle carbonation, clearly. Look how flat it is, and then, make your own small breast reference.

This beer is almost too complicated for my tastes.

S: Wow, this has a huge bouquet to it. It smells like an “Imperial Quad” with abundant smoked raisins, figs, burnt plums, charred dark fruits and some chocolate body in there. Quite a complicated little brew, but interesting to say the least.

T: Wow, for a flat beer, this is incredibly tasty. This maintains that same Quad character on the taste with a nice malty raisin sweetness, currants, and a mild chocolate flavor. The swallow is a bit boozy but nothing too overpowering. I could imagine this being pretty violent fresh from the tank but it seems to have mellowed amiably. There’s a hot vanilla at the end, like that one violent white kid from Gardena that packs a snubnose heater. You know the one.

This dark sassy brew has an amiable quality.

M: The mouthfeel is hot with bourbon singing the gumline but in a fulfilling way. It imparts an alcoholic dryness with a nice oaky character. Again, this is a strange hybrid beer that would be incredible if not for, ok, the carbonation horse has been beat to death. I’LL JUST HOOF IT TO THE NEXT SECTION.

D: This is way too hot and warm to session up on. Thankfully they realized this and bottled it in 12oz bottles so it is packaged just right. Ultimately it is an anomaly like Dragonforce where you are impressed by the crazy plethora of things going on but ultimately can’t sit through a 2 hour set. Too much heat from the face melting vanilla solos.

After a bottle of this hot rampaging ale, I need to stop internetting.

Narrative: The air was thick and hot like the congealed top layer of a hot soup. The humidity stuck to Brash Proveccio’s face in a spiteful manner. “Alright, no more messing around, stack that product over there, yeah, a full quart” he barked to his lackey’s in a firm, serious tone. “Alright, now what made you think that you could muscle in on our market?” he spit as he talked, boozy and laced with tobacco, it hit the face of Sabas Zapato and lingered. “I just- never thought that, it’s just….FIREWOOD!” Brash slammed his fist down on the charred stump next to him. “JUST FIREWOOD? The likes of you should even be able to touch freshly cut SOFT MAPLE WOOD!” Zapato shifted in his chair nervously. He never thought that his unlicensed gardening venture would land him in this type of trouble. “Tell you what, since it’s just FIREWOOD and I’m the only one in Bergen county allowed to SELL FIREWOOD, how’s about I drop a fresh gross on each and every one of your family member’s driveways?” “NO….PLEASE!” “Yeah, that’s right tough guy, everyone’s going to be significantly late to whatever appointments that they may need to attend, imagine them, movin all that wood out of the way, just to get out of the garage, YOU WANT THAT?” Zapato began to sob and, through the thick, sticky air murmured, “Take all the Alder, all the Almond, any green woods you want, even the Beachwood, please just don’t….don’t make them the victims of fire wooding.” Brash split open a fresh log of Ash wood, he was fired up indeed.

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