For anyone watching at home that isn’t familiar with this big fat cetacean beast, this is the initmitable Rare D.O.S. I am sure that the RareR was amazing, but this is the unassailable O.G. of the stout world. I am hesitant to toss around definitive titles but this may be the best stout that I have ever had. I said it. What your stout got to do with me? I ain’t trying to hear that see.
Peg’s Cantina & Brewpub
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV ?
This has never been bottled. This has never been growlered. It took some seriously shady maneuvers to lock this one down, enjoy the fruits of my efforts.
A: This came from a 15oz swingtop so at the outset I figured that this would be flatter than Keira Knightley but it actually still came through with a huge viscosity, deep sheeting like Bed Bath and Beyond. The lacing still arranged mocha foam streamers like some barista baby shower. The deep mahogany pool reflects my failures like the portal at Delphi.
S: God damn this smells so good. This is like the discarded uniforms of the employees from See’s Candy. There is a nice charred molasses and baker’s chocolate that feels like a Sequoia and Willy Wonka scrapped it up hard. There’s also muted marshmallow foam and vanilla bean on the backend. It is an extremely well balanced and delicious smell. It takes the ultimate Voltron aspects of my favorite stouts and composes this beast mode Power Ranger amalgamate for a crazy hybrid stout.
T: This is the best tasting stout that I have ever encountered with the tight reigns of Goose Island Rare pulled close. To think that this second hand handbottle approached the throne of the best stouts that I have ever had and comfortably sits upon the throne. I can only imagine this fresh off the tap, but that would require a trip to Florida, a prospect that seems like slamming my cock in a bourbon barrel aged car door. Alas I digress, this beer tastes amazing and I can’t honestly rattle off the traditional cadre of adjectives because it killed my palate in such an inventive way that it seems like a series of serial murders that remains unrequited to date.
M: The mouthfeel has a coating somewhere inbetween Huna and Abyss but delivers much longer lasting satisfaction on the sweet coffee notes that just resonates like an Adele wail. You didn’t even have to get dumped by a chubby chaser to enjoy this beer. The sheeting coasts like a bourbon SeaDoo kicking up a noteworthy vanilla froth.
D: If you have ever seen some crazy shit on AMC that you can’t explain to anyone that approaches brilliance, you will know how it feels to try this. It was like a fleeting phantom that I opened alone like a complete asshole on a Tuesday night and I sat looking at the wall like an apparition in Plato’s cave. I have had other stouts that approach this archetype but this particular little gem from a certain unnamed source rocked my conception of what bourbon stouts could be. If you have seen my site, I have had a few within the genre. I could easily merk a growler of this and smile under the dialysis machine.
Narrative: It was the day of the MCATs and Jordan Belzer felt a tinge of panic in his brow but knowingly patted the inside of his jacket. The sweet caress of the cool 15oz bottle gave him the assurance that he needed to pull through this endeavor. “At the sound of the alarm, you may begin the examination” the proctor announced and Jordan spit out a chocolate candy from his gumline with khaki stained teeth and grinned to himself. The alarm sounded and Jordan took a deep pull from his medicinal bottle within his Kill City jacket and felt the sweet elixit run through his veins, edifying everything that he had known before and after, all synapses blasting on full bourbon glory. Jordan was technically intoxicated while completing each section, but it was a lightning fast panache, and the brew/apothecary in Koreatown did not lie. Whether it was the tiger penis or the phen phen in the chocolately solution, he achieved the peaks of greatness he would never know again. “BZZZZZZ!!!!” the final alarm buzzed and Jordan awoke to find the entire test completed. He staggered out into the afternoon sun and squinted at the prospect of medical school and gripped his empty glass container. The swingtop clipped back and forth jovially, almost calling him to the apex of greatness that the liquid blessing just imposed upon him. Jordan spit a deep vanilla black expiration upon the asphalt and watched it glimmer in the summer sun. He had just approached the edge of greatness and blacked out to tell about it.