Midnight Sun Barfly, The Only Time That You Can Brag About Having Flies

Alright, let’s get this shit out of the way: this beer is not worth seeking out. Let me clarify, it is an amazing stout and you will likely rock a half mast alerection after trying it but, what the market is asking for is simply not worth it. Sure, maybe you live in Alaska and got in on the ground floor, but this 1000ish bottle release is too rich for the blood of the rest of us non-Palins. We all know that I love Arctic Devil, Berserker was solid, so what now of this strange offspring? Let’s take it to the frigid north to investigate Seward’s Folly in today’s review.

More like tradefly. How many bottles of this actually left Alaska remains to be seen.

Midnight Sun Brewing Co.
Alaska, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 12.60% ABV

A: This has a bit of a lighter slicker sheen to it than the massive stouts you see on this site getting tick on the reg. It looks nice with a frothy blackness that imparts a gentle coating that smiles at you like an amiable concierge, despite your ignoble intentions. You get a bit of crackling bubbles but nothing to whip out a post card for. The mocha coloring seems on point for the style but largely predictable “did you want pink bubbles?” no STFU.

PROTIP: If you feed this to a chimpanzee, he will probably toss his guts on your wall.

S: This nose starts with a black and mild cigar waft like a vacant strip club and melds into a vacant chocolate factory which is equally disturbing. Next up I get some tire, eraser, and sticky Charles Shaw red wine that recent divorcees are so fond of. Again, this just doesn’t strike on all my favorite stoutzones, my stoutrogenous zones remain unfired.

T: This has a much better taste but again, nothing to sell your ’94 Neon Espresso to obtain. This starts with a huge merlot aspect that lets you know, ok, good job barfly you were in a barrel. Then it continues its Community College Drama major and seeks attention via the route of smoked chocolate and sticky tobacco. That’s not the way to win the love of an absentee father. I enjoyed the light stickiness but ultimately this wasn’t what I had spent 8 months busting ale sessions to. It’s like meeting Skrillex in real life and realizing that he is just that fat kid who played D.J. on Roseanne.

You want to like it. You really do. But ultimately, the whole endeavor feels forced and you end up cleaning up the results.

M: This is swift and flows like that river in Huckleberry Finn, I forget which one. The chocolate is drying and the port/red wine aspects come off and stumbling blocks rather than assets to this process. You know when Logan busts out of the weapon X tank dripping wet? That’s how I feel after busting my cock to get this thing and it is a smoky, thin, red wine tasting little monster. It was not bad by any means but, at this price, you expect superchargers or at least a NAV system.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, hell, you might even be able to trick girls into drinking stouts if they hang out in Santa Monica and enjoy deep juicy red wines and Weeds or some nonsense. Red wine sticks out like a sore labia in this beer and I can’t get past the imposing nature of the adjunct elements. Berserker was all coffee, ok fine, now this beer goes apeshit with a BCBG female grape aspect. It is good, let’s get that clear. Rag and Bone makes great clothes, but both are complete ripoffs in the end.

Is it good? Yes. Is it worth real life? No.

Narrative: Devin Griggs was the most avid fan of YooHoo Chocolate drinks this side of the Prime Meridian. He had sampled the most rare varietals of the cacao potation and nodded in disapproval at the rarest gems. “Watery, chocolate afterthoughts, it is like The Unbearable Lightness of Being in chocolate drink format” he opined to the throngs of 45 people who were also into this shit. Madeline, his assistant surveyed his impressive YooHoo cellar with a calm fortitude as he presented the legendary YooHoo b54 from 1961 with the notorious discontinued “racist label.” In the calm of his den he surveyed the empty bottles and shook his head in disapproval. “Sir?” Madeline poked her head in from the rich teak doors. “Look at these vintages Maddy, each milky discharge a potent entry in the pages of history,” Devin stated as he took a deep pull of his milky chocolate treat, 1995 vintage. “Do you ever feel like it is all a fool’s errand? Just a shot into the dark, the stockpiling of inherently consumable chattel? Perhaps it is a fleeting grasp at immortality in a fading medium, like the lactose itself.” Madeline shook her head and leaned intently upon stacked cases of 2002 YooHoo, the alleged infected bottles. “Sir, ultimately, a hobby is a fleeting outlet and a fading grasp at value in a world of inherent scorn. . .or it is a way to get your D S’ed in a niche market.” Devin licked his milk moustache and nodded in agreement, at Milk Chocolate Drink conventions he had gotten his DS’ed more than Nintendo.

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