Hold on to your salami nips for this one, time to go heads up with one of the most endlessly complex barleywines ever crafted. This oxidized monster was spit from the mouth of Chronos and was destroyed by his own prodigy. After a lengthy respite within a rum prison, the already multifaceted Xyauyu brings a new depth to its flat, calculating demeanor, this bad ratchet rocks sticky waist high cutoff jorts and pops it low with crazy caramel sheeting and toasted creme brûlée juices.

The nose is comically endless like the conclusion of 2001: space odyssey it just keeps going and rampaging your psyche with each passing moment. There is a peanut brittle dunked in port sherry, a Carmelized raisin and bruised fig character, distinct brown sugar sweetness melded into the slick base like integrated cream of wheat dankness. A touch of cinnamon and fig rounds this out with an oakiness that screams for unrelenting vengeance against under attenuated offerings in the genre.

Some call this the “poor mans” Utopias and those are the pussypalates who probably neither paid for nor locked this down themselves. Them backyard tickers aka proxy ballers. If faced with the choice of one Utopias or 4 of these $50 500ml, xyauyu wins every time. The taste is so intense and overwhelming that anything lower than 60 degrees is straight online certified beer server shit. Open it up, pop those malty rounds and this barrel aged sks will light up your chest with some sticky carribean hollow points. The rum is present with a deep sweetness and toasted vanilla aspect that sustains like the blowoff from a MKIV supra, just blasting through each shift. Your lips get this Bubbleyum coating like Dr Pepper chap stick you can revisit in between sips if you hit the depths of that perversion.

Skull this solo and get fully turnt on that greasy Italian swagger

Honestly this probably should be shared but, LOL, look at the address bar, we know I don’t have any friends. It limit breaks hard on the complexity and omnislashes the drinkability but who gives a single fuck. Pour it and drink it like a fine port, or cork it and don’t do demonstrative attention seeking bullshit like bawdy glassware. I am just here to such Lefty Hyzer’s cock right off. It will hold up endlessly, the older these vintages get the craziest the seamless integration of the fusel notes become. Man what a fucked up sentence but not fixing that one. You get it, seek this out. Or keep it to yourself, or go to a n00b forum where everyone is swapping Black Notes like Daves and watch their eyes glaze over when you mention this obscure shit.

Fantastic, god tier barleywine without imitators or competitors in execution. Drop the money and get a pleasure factory, just don’t google that at work

Remember when I was looking for this shit in 2012? Pepperidge farms remembers.