Kuhnhenn Raspberry Eisbock, Rocking So Much Eisbock in the Club, So Eised Out, Yo Eisenberg, Bock Up.

haha holy shit. i found this draft of a review from 2011. here you go:

By this point, you prolly are all like, “DAMN HOW MANY MORE TOP 100 beers did he review? Why do I even care tho? Am I clearly a rhetorical device?” yes. you are. So this angry little 7oz bottle of rage is a sticky raspberry euthanizer. It is a messy job but someone has to do it to keep you from seeking out these beers, I don’t relish my yoke, es un yoke.

Sticky icky oooo weee, put it in the air. The wash aint just soaps and suds, you a fool for this one Kuhnhennnnnnn- RASPBERRY REEEEMIXXXXX

Kuhnhenn Raspberry Eisbock, 13.5% abv

A: This beer has a deep ruby tone to it with mild maroon tones at the edges. The whole thing has a sticky murkiness to it like a decadent muddy quad, but with more of a feminine glow to it. The carbonation is almost non-existent and mild tiny bubbles form at the surface but like the laughs in an Adam Sandler movie, they are faint and gone far too soon.

This beer is very sweet, but at 13.5% abv, it creeps me out.

S: This is a huge raspberry bomb similar to Framboise De Amarosa. There is a citric acidity and a deep fruit tone on the backend of this beer. The abv shines through and lets it be known that some serious booziness is about to go down. The 7oz bottle is a perfect serving size for a beer that is this violent. At the finish there’s a deep chocolate smell to it that seems almost uninvited, but welcome nonetheless. What was I wearing? Why is that relevant to this complaint, this beer raped my mouth ok?

T: This has a sharp tartness to the front of it that quickly subsides into a deep grape juice flavor. It reminds me of the deep purple Juicy Juice that I had as a kid, or maybe my parents just served me 13.5% abv Eisbock, WE MAY NEVER KNOW. Notwithstanding, all of these fruit notes should be interpreted on the canvas of a deep chocolate and malty base beer that presents a strange scaffolding from which the raspberry bodies are buried. At the finality of the deep maltiness the raspberries come back for a moment just to give you a quick sour shot to the stones. A very enjoyable beer, albeit incredibly strange.

I am not sure what this beer is exactly FOR, but I enjoy it, SORTA.

M: This has a thick malty mouthfeel to it like a chocolately quad but without the big dark fruits getting all pitted up in the mix. It expands and coats impressively like some cough syrup from a negligent ass pediatrician. The lack of carbonation makes this feel sticky and medicinal, which strangely feels appropriate.

D: This suffers in this category simply because this beer is too big for its own raspberry britches. The abv monster, coupled with the crazy acidity, with the lack of carbonation makes this feel like more of a serum to be administered judiciously rather than casually knocked back. Even working through the baleful wax was a task in itself. Again, this isn’t an average beer, it is exceptional, but not one that I would keep in full rotation. This is the type of beer that non-craft people will point to and say “Look at the type of stuff this guy is into!: with derision. Their jeers will resound through the hallways. YOU WILL GET YOUR RASPBERRY REVENGE ON THEM ALL.

This beer tests my patience, but results in a mild treat.

Narrative: The school bell of the gulag had a strange E minor tone to it. It underscored the deep darkness of the work camp that had been deemed an educational institute. “Svedsky! Join us for lunch!” the other children cried and motioned for him to sit with them amongst some dilapidated industrial equipment. “What do you have in your abiEt sack bubushka?” Svedsky resented the other children’s ironic names for him and clenched his jaw and slowly opened his abiet sack. He knew what he would have, so did all of the other little Oliver Twists in the lunch circle. Sevdsky had the same lunch as he had always had. He poured the contents into a silk handkerchief and the children resounded with laughter. “OLD SVEDSKY HAS THE MALINA AGAIN! ALWAYS THE MALINA!” It was indeed malina, an entire pound of raspberries. It was garnished with a piece of hard tack bread but, it was malina all the way through. His brow lowered and his palate was bitter as was his soul as the deep ridicule that he was subjected to. “Hey Sevdsky? Why so quiet? Care to trade for my shuba? JUST KIDDING FOR I WANT NONE OF YOUR MALINAS!” Oh how they rejoiced at his tart pain. The fire burned in his chest and his hatred went unrequited.

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