Urban Roots was founded by two old schools brewers who love classic beers and BBQ. One of them made Rorie’s Ale at Odonata perhaps the biggest NorCal whale of all time. The other is a flavor master who knows how to keep things dialed in.

Their imperial stout program mirrors this pedigree lovingly. All of their Chocolate Mustache and Demon’s Run series are sinewy, tightly wound little grenache timepieces that take price in efficiency. They aren’t svelte to the point of being Central Waters or Parabolaesque. Modern Palates will find them to be splashy nestle quik affairs that give enough oak stage for the 50 person black box stout performance to be showcased.

No elaborate flabby sets. No Michael Bay production values. A distilled stout experience.

Even in their most pastrified form there is an air of decorum and posture. The vanilla is the flecked bean of costly gelato. The cocoa nibs are 85% Whole Food register chocolate. The portions are smaller but haughtier. It is an Augustus Gloop dignification.

You get the klondike bar, but its the smaller European portion, complete with a crossbody bag and smokes. The waffle cone and Whoppers are presented in a hotel mini fridge way where the scaled back size implies grace and restraint.

It’s good in a way that most stout makers wouldn’t dare attempt in the modern era. The 3.5s cascading noisily on Untappd from backyard shares, cries of “ToOo ThiiiNN” panging through the canyon.

These are the same guys who are constantly sweating at room temp and wear shorts in every season noting “IDK i just always run a little hot, my legs never get cold, yeah I know it’s snowing. These Lakais are the only shoes I wear. I just have wide feet ok”