Whenever the planeteers would get into some deep shit, they never just called Captain Planet at the outset. They would always dick around saving the environment and then Meg Ryan would up the stakes and tell kids not to recycle until finally, 18 minutes later, Captain Planet would start stretching out buttholes gratis.
Point being, most pumpkin beers are like the inept flaccid HEART ring that the little Honduran kid carried. I usually am like, the fuck is the point of this, leave well enough alone. Other times it has a nutmeg vial of ky and allspice to lube things up. Point is, no one wants to get the gourds swollen. Not pumking, not good gourd, not any autumnal offering turns the heads of 90% of tickers deep in the game. They are a novelty you suffer through and listen to casual beta co workers ask you about in between invitations to go drink fucking MARZENS. The month of October is a beer nerd’s nightmare.
This is still pumpkin, sure. But short of 2009 ba autumn maple or barrel aged treat, nothing approaches this. The pour looks problematic at first, a thin slim and trim barleywine splashing in the kiddie pool in a size 0 copper unitard. I want my lane Bryant barleywines doing deep cannonballs tearing shit up. This is a svelte amber work of thin foam and intense clear legs on the glass flexing hard like that 5’3 power lifter who loves to give unsolicited fitness advice.
The nose offers layers of completxity you peel back like a grands biscuit. There’s so many god damn things going on here I need a trapper keeper to sort them out. At the outset it is a churro cinnamon and vanilla and I sigh and anticipate the funky Buddha punch in the belly that is coming. Thankfully they get that shit sorted out with a toasted pumpkin seed and huge oaky hammer strike like intensely over oaked bourbon in the folder of old foghorn. It’s more barleywine than pumpkin in the nose but here we go.
The taste has that pumpkin tiger trap with jackolantern barbs at the bottom. This is a tiny dancer in the barleywine realm on par with central waters but exhibits a massive barrel character and roasty pumpkin pith. The finish is long and roasty, never sweet, a toasty walnut and an almond roca finish.
This fails to deliver a massive pumpkin profile in lieu of, get this, actually being a delicious barleywine. I know it will be hard to accept.
Voodoo continues to impress, even when I expect things to not hit the mark. It’s like if Nissan told me they were making a turbo awd manual version of the Juke, i would be like, oh god damn it, what a waste. And then it is bad ass and you go, well fuck, cool then I guess?
Look what I bought myself off of eBay. The fuck is wrong with me.