I like to party fuckin hard, I like my Tired Hands the same. Well this delivers on both barrels, fully cocked with that dark sour buckshot right to your chest.
The pour looks like a porter had fertility issues and impregnated a brown ale en vitro and this loving mahogany red baby came out of the surrogate womb. The carb his a nice khaki cling to it and it exhibits a garnet at the edges that looks like Nana’s broach.
The smell is a waft of almond and cherries, cracked walnuts and a touch of acetic like fresh rodenbachs. It is drying and reminds me of a bag of trail mix with them ultra luxury dried currant additions. Str8 whole foods tier sustenance for the Hybrid panamera ballers.
The taste is again, mildly acetic at the outset and feels like a Flanders red got deep squat instructions from an oud bruin. There is maraschino, raspberry skin, cocoa powder, bran muffin meal, Cabernet oakiness and a lingering dry finish to it that sets up along the gum line like 13 Hispanic girls waiting to see Ariana Grande. That taste is gonna be there as long as it takes.
At low temps I felt this wasn’t exceedingly drinkable like a heftier oud tart, but as it warmed the darker malts led a loving hand to the acidity and guided it into the moving train car. Their bodies rocking in metronomic parity for the transsiberian journey they both would endure, malt and yeast touching hips, their hems in a communion of desire. AND THEN SOMEONE GOT THEY DICK SUCK.
This is tasty but not quite on par with the exemplary So it Goes, but, such is life on Tralfamador. OH SHIT APROPOS REFERENCE WE ALL TOOK ENGLISH 10 amirite?