Man, I had this review lined up for last Wednesday with all this witty repartee about entering the darkest timeline and what beer would be like under the Mike Pence multiverse, but then the Mojo reality happened, and now Humulus Lager is gone.

Notwithstanding, Arizona Wilderness continues to silently turn out these triple digit releases and covetous orange skinned locals continue to surreptitiously drink them.  Not a word of hype or brazen attempts to flip these gems into lambic, the dogecoin of the beer world.

Some of you may remember when I reviewed a growler of the Pappy version of this beer. This beer has a different barrel treatment and, ::sigh:: adjuncts added, but let’s see if it gets to stompin in its air force ones.

The viscosity is a touch thinner than the component barrel blend from a couple years ago, but it still shines amiably and coats akin to the likes of Darkness or a Parabola with slightly lower BMI.  You get a 400ct thread count instead of the Hotel Brownie collection 500ct in the mouth but it feels silkier like it has some oat additions.  I will take dialed in silk over saccharine neck kisses all day long, so this is a net positive.

The nose is interesting in that the potentially aggro Jalapenos serve as more of a Sam Elliot narrator dictating the expanse of the experience instead of forcing your attention.  It’s a soothing wild plain of cocoa powder, nestle dust, Lindor pepper dark chocolate, a faint chalkiness, toasted almonds, and closes with a lingering molasses.  The peppers are hardly perceptible and I love how diligently they chose to make it a supporting role rather than blunt the base beer with some hamfisted bullshit, ::ahemstonecrimenpunishment::.

lucky to have tried this.

The taste is what I wish Huna and Abraxas would strive for as base beers. It doesn’t overload the sweet confectioner tones, nor does it get that waxy sort of greasiness that some cocoa nib infusions can lean upon. It is a gentle gentle beer throughout and never forces your hand, you WANT to kill the 750ml and it never becomes a burden.

However, this is also at the expense of barrel nuance and depth.  It leans more towards a Central Waters Anny/Czar Jack type of relaxed, easy breezy beautiful brownie girl than some marvelous demonstration of the complexities of black patent malt.  The barrel presents a dental dryness and a Caramello aspect that whips through the Whopper notes like tastefully inlaid woods in a Silver Spur.  It is elegant but it isn’t overpowering, and for that reason if you are having a 1oz pour of this in some landlocked Midwest track home, it will be “the 12th best stout of the night, all 17 of us agreed.” However, if you want a fudge batter mud bath with two oak chips over your eyes in the spa, this is a relaxing beer.

Some of you may have had this in the third session of Shelton Fest, and the fact that in the Shitshowiest of environments that it still put up solid reviews, is a testament to these sun bleached artisans.

If you know who this guy is, there is no way you know what a vagina feels like.

Plus AZW is across the street from GoDaddy so they could put out extract Altbiers and those techie assholes will keep them in business with their “Pajama Friday Halfdays” or whatever stupid bullshit that tech sector engages in.