Side Project/Weldwerks DM Is Equal Parts Excessive and Phenomenal

It’s difficult to manage excess during isolation. Every swing of the pendulum is either binging or some austere course correction, neither can last. Side Project doesn’t need any cajoling to roll out massive beers. When Weldwerks is involved, it’s like that friend who constantly quotes David Goggins but cant do a pull up and always offers to buy blow at 1am when no one else is on board. You like the guy but, things get out of hand.

With Mamanoche, I saw a glimmer of restraint. Perennial, that calm chaperone telling those Colorado boys to not release peanut butter discharge onto some guy’s Croft and Barrow flannel. This time there was no oversight. If you have two toxic people who both recently read “Girl Wash Your Face” and some buttery Chard then things can spiral quickly.

This beer is messy, but in a fantastically entertaining way. The carb has zero chance of crackling through the waves of lipids, oils, floaties, coagulated protein, and lip balm. The white tufts bob silently in the quay of a jet black Pyongyang pond. Imagine how good the beer has to taste to warrant a 4.9 on Untappd despite this insane presentation.

It is crushingly good, despite its excesses. You can be self-harming with self-help just as easily. This pushes so many benefits that it feels like that guy who recently discovered Robin Hood, talks about his silent time at 5am, sleep monitor, Kombucha detoxes, and ever shortening IF window. It’s grating to be that good. This beer is that good and it is painful to be around.

The beer thankfully isn’t as thick or heavyhanded as Starry Noche and maintains the Derivation roots which should be on the upper registry of THICC for most. Viscosity sheets in opaque mahogany, the nose is Macaroons, Samoas, burnt Tollhouse cookies, and a long boozy pull of drying oak akin to PHC8 or Makers cask. The taste is lipgloss waxiness, Baskin Robbins thigh gripping, Sno Balls, and a greasy coating on the bicuspids.

It’s so bad for you that the odometer rolls over into “worth it.” If your hipster boyfriend takes you thrifting all day, somehow, his selfishness turns into empathy. The excess is worth it because the end result is a singular, irreplaceable experience. At $600 a bottle, it better be.

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