Category Archives: russian imperial stouts

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Barrel Aged Blackout Stout, Great Lakes Brewery, If Anyone Needs to Blackout, It is Ohio.

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Guess what, knock knock, who’s there? Another top 100 beer. No punchlines here, just sick brews brah. 12 days of Christmas are delivering so hard.

Ohio is bringing their A game with this one, sending over something besides FIDM students for a change.

Barrel Aged Blackout Stout, Great Lakes Brewery, Imperial Stout, 9.5% abv

A: This is on the mid-range in absolute Satanic murkiness. It would place somewhere admirably amongst the ranks of Beezlebub in darkness, but not as pure black as Abyss or Black Tuesday. A bit of mahogany shines through at the edges. The carbonation is a bit disappointing, with tiny bubbles that escape quickly. There is very little lacing as well. Ho hum.

Dont like this beer? Well first off...

S: This beer smells like toffee, raisins, burnt vanilla, and bourbon. There’s chocolate in there as well but it feels like an overpower quad given the complexity of the dark fruits, AND THAT’S PRETTY OKAY!

T: The tone of the beer in my mouth is like ringing a perfect major chord of chocolate, raisin, oak, and bourbon in pure harmony. It isn’t overpowering it just resounds with a pure deep sustain that is very pleasurable. This is strange in the world of high octane stouts in that it doesn’t try to go balls to the wall with flavor it just hits an amazing balance and each flavor works in harmony. I wasn’t expecting much from the smell and appearance but the taste is incredible.

Shockingly good. I will be on the lookout for this little gem.

M: If the taste didn’t knock it out of the park, this prickly tiny carbonation makes this beer fantastic on the palate with just enough coating to remain but not enough to both you. I can see how some people wouldn’t “get” this stout but the interplay of the elements is just great. This dark horse really impresses and delivers a subtle performance. The John Malcovich of the Barrel Aged stout world, indeed.

D: The lack of aggressive carbonation and the mellow bourbon and dark fruits make this beer incredibly drinkable and pairable with plenty of options. I don’t think it is universal enough to win over the Delta Gammas of the world, but it is pretty solid when it comes to anyone who has an inkling for the darker side. I feel that if more people tried this beer, it would gain a stronger notoriety but the small batches have this beer being judged by extremely critical parties and it receives a lesser reception as a result.

Similar to other stouts, but with a strangely unique feel to it. Nicely done, crazy, but accomplished.

Narrative: “Steve? Steve, I cant OW!” Jessie fumbled looking for the flashlight in the darkness. “Steve, do we have any candles? Are you there?” Steve was there. A solitary ember from an Argentinian cigar glowed not unlike Daisy’s dock in the darkness. “I am here. Now tell me, who was it, in this household of two that forgot to pay the power bill?” Jessie stopped fumbling for matches and flashlights and stared intently upon the glowing cigar. “You know damn well it was me Steve, that’s not the time for this.” “OH REALLY? Is it the time to make a sweet currant pie? Perhaps we can eat all these figs and 85% dark chocolate? IS THAT WHAT TIME IT IS?!” Jessie dropped to her knees in the darkness and unknowingly crushed a rare Timewalk Magic: the Gathering card. “YOU MONSTER! You know about my condition, I just love, dark fruits so much, now look at us, alone, in the da- myenm. The dark, nom, mmyean there’s nothing we can horm-” “ARE YOU EATING PLUMS AT A TIME LIKE THIS!?” She wailed a sticked pit fruited wail that would be at home in a Tennessee Williams play “IT’S THE ONLY FRUIT I HAVE ANYMORE!” End scene.

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Péché Mortel (Imperial Stout Au Cafe), Stout Imperialism at Its Finest

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Alright time for some good old fashioned stout abuse, another top 100 beer, and more ways to write “this has a coffee taste” in fun and inventive ways.

Peche Mortel, Total Immortel.

Peche mortel, Brassiere, Imperial Stout 9.5% abv

A: The appearance has deep dark hues with no transparency, just a hateful oily darkness that abuses like a NASCAR loving husband. However, the coating relents a bit and there’s frothy mocha lacing that adheres to the glass longingly. Give up lacing, it is time to move on.

Satanic Cups of Coffee

S: There is a huge coffee aroma and burnt smoky notes preside with a bit of chocolate; it is clear that coffee is the main event here, and additional complexity is overwhelmed in this discussion. Not a word in from sweetness, edgewise or otherwise.

T: The nice bit of cocoa on the front is quickly chloroformed and dragged away by the coffee censors. There is a huge dryness from the hops and coffee overpower the sweet notes. This beer could use a bit more maltiness but it helps to keep the crispness of the coffee forward. I guess if you had a kick ass office, a negligent boss, or a drunk supervisor, this could pass as a morning beverage. DONT FORGET TO READ THE OSHA POSTERS.

This beer is a little too sweet, makes me question its intentions.

M: Again, the coffee and roasted notes just overwhelm and it makes it a bit of a one trick pony. Sadly you want more complexity, but what is there, is done fairly well, like a Gallagher comedy show. Except less racist.

D: Sadly, there’s just too much drying and acidity from the coffee notes to make this any form of a session beer. It has its place for three months of the year as a classy respite, but beyond that, it’s tough to really give it a direct nod of approval. This can be the ski lodge wench with fair skin that burns easily. The pale barista that serves you on a daily basis, provided the day is blustery and depressing as a gulag. That kind of barista.

It's like a childhood pleasure with a strange twist.

Narrative: She is wearing the green apron with the six pieces of flair again, it must be Thursday. Don’t look, damnit, you always look at her directly in the eyes before you are even to the register, idiot. Just examine the unhealthy, overpriced baked goods. Nice, now she’s not on to your schemes. Don’t order the same thing like you always do idiot. Naked Juice? No, she will think you are a pervert. Right, strike up a conversation about that captain entendre. Could you have put on a nicer shirt to go out to a café? You know she only comes home from school for winter session and this is the only time you have to see her each year. This year Reggie, this is your season, you will woo “What can I get you?” oh, think think, stack adjectives, describe something, she’s looking! “A frap, drip, uh vanilla soy…” “Latte?” “Yeah. That’s chill” “You want it chilled?” “No, I meant uh like, the adjective phrase, I mean, hot I want a hot latte.” Well, could that have gone any worse you idiot? “Adjective phrase?” why not just go slam your dick in a car door. Her breath smelled of redolent fresh coffee grounds and her eyes sparkled a deep mocha. Now it is all ruined. That is, until next winter session, when she returns, for your grasp. “What size?” “Oh uh, grasp, I mean, holdable, uh Vent…venti” Nevermind, you wont be grasping anything but coffee you needledick.

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Olde Hickory Event Horizon Imperial Stout, EVENTFUL THINGS ABOUT THIS HOLIDAY SEASON.

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My Horizon has some sick events on it. Lawrence Fishburn will probably be there.

Olde Hickory, Event Horizon 2010, 8.5% Barrel Aged Imperial Stout

A: This has a deep hateful color to it that cascades in a murky mess out of the bottle. A hard pour seems to make it angrier and a huge tan head subsides into pencil shavings color. It leaves spotty lacing that looks like those plants in Ursula’s cavern. The beer itself is darker than Goofy’s taint. Disney references abound.

S: Huge sticky maple syrupy sweetness subsides into a burnt bakers chocolate and coffee dryness. The mild heat smell is welcoming, like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. So far so good, this beer impresses on all levels.

Look at this beer. This beer is bad ass.

T: It has a great prickly bourbon tingle to the front taste that establishes a nice booziness that isn’t exactly hot, just sweet and smoothe. Then like a dapper southern gentleman, the chair is pulled back and chocolate enters with a bouquet of toffee and coffee, much to the entertainment of your palate. Very balanced in execution and feels like a halfway home between Goose Island Rare and Canadian Breakfast Stout.

M: The mouthfeel is a bit lighter than I was expecting but still a solid medium coating which does not disappoint. The coffee doesn’t overpower and the bourbon and sweetness lingers. The honey notes come through more as a maple syrup I would assume due to the barrel but who knows, it just works.

I can't even be critical of this old gem.

D: With each refreshing sip I look sadly to my glass and wish that this beer wasn’t so hard to come by. It is certainly worthy of the hype and should be far higher on the Top 100 list in my opinion. This is a world class beer that is not only delicious but incredibly session able. I cant see this getting any better over time because it is already mellow, boozy, and delicious. The relatively lower ABV makes it a more relaxed, incredibly drinkable imperial stout and it is all the better as a result.

Narrative: This confidence scheme wasn’t going as planned. Dirk “Oilcan” Murkerson had the whole thing planned to a “T” but things started to unravel bit by bit. His dolt of a partner, Sitcky Bittles, was supposed to walk into the jewelry store and say that he has lost his obsidian diamond, and offer a huge standing reward for it. Oilcan walks in with a fake black diamond and pawns it for thousands, they both get away clean in the old struggle buggy. Simple. The darkness in both of their hearts mirrored in the balanced and smooth plan down to the execution, if not for that bumbling sweet confidence man, Bittles. “Eh old Oilcan, how was I sapposed to know that the diamond was a legit diamond from the boy’s stash? Cahmannn Oilcan!” Bittles pleaded entreatingly chewing the stub of his gnarled cigar nervously. “I shall tell you what you shall do, consult the provisions of your offer, offer your own indemnity to obtain the reward yourself, while hedging the item you pawned within the structure of the ombundsman’s gambit.” BY GUMMIT, Old Oilcan had done it again and gotten the boys out of a sticky fix! You can say what you want about his dark velvet suit, but his dapper demeanor won even the coldest hearts over.

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Bell’s Black Note Imperial Stout, the panacea of Michigan winters.

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Oh shit, Black Note strip tease:

You dirty stouttease.

I'm no picture, dont leave me hanging.

It's like that scene where they open the Ark of the Covenant.

I can’t hype this beer anymore than the beer community already has so I will let the brewery tell you what this little asshole is:

“One of the most sought-after stouts in Bell’s history, Black Note Stout blends the complex aromatics of Expedition Stout with the velvety smooth texture of Double Cream Stout and ages the combination in freshly retired oak bourbon barrels for months. The resulting harmony of flavors captures the finest features of all three components: malty notes of dark chocolate, espresso & dried fruits, all buoyed by the warmth and fragrance of the bourbon barrel. Aimed squarely at the stout and bourbon aficionados, Black Note makes a grand statement about the art of the dark. ”

So yeah, I had to pull some tawdry Craigslist endeavors to land that tiny 8oz bottle. Dont ask.

A: Deep, jet black motor oil with low viscosity. This has some mild carbonation, but, I obtained this bottle from less than official means, so that carbonation might be lacking due to transit and/or transfer, notwithstanding the bubbles are a deep coffee brown with nice Yuban coating.

MOAR.

S: There are fantastic notes of coffee, light whiskey, bourbon, oak, huge chocolate, a mild vanilla that fades into toffee. Overall there is a mild heat that is wrapped in a great sweetness. The end of the nose is almost like a bourbon quad with deep pitted fruits and figs. The whole bouquet is one of the best that I have ever come across, no punchlines here.

T: This is a world-class stout. The heat is present and comes first with a warming dryness to the sweet zones, it subsides into a light hoppiness that is hand and hand with the coffee and sweet milk chocolate notes. It is incredibly pleasant throughout and doesn’t overpower on any one aspect and the coating is such that the taste lingers but doesn’t aggressively overstay its welcome. It’s really difficult to come across jokes to describe what is clearly such an incredible stout, BUT I WILL TRY.

It took a lot of activation energy to land this beer, but I feel like a noble gas having had it.

M: The mouthfeel is impressive and doesn’t wipe out your palate on either an alcohol basis or sweetening basis. The balance is like those dubious 13 year old chinese gymnasts. While the carbonation was lacking, it didn’t detract from the overall experience because the beer is simply meant to be sipped and savored so the minimal crackling on the lips is forgiveable, like Jehova’s Witness pamphlets during the last two minutes of your NFL game.

D: This is dangerously drinkable for 11.5% abv stout, and not just for my jaded ass palate. I am sure the average Tri-Delt could put away a few of these if cajoled with enough peer pressures (read: cocaine.) But seriously, getting murdered for just 8oz is particularly cruel when the end product is not a let down. The whole beer is a libation that lives and dies in the winter realm, just warms me up and lights a fire in the hearth of my heart. It’s a little chocolate Lord Byron for me to caress and whisper pre-enlightenment phrases to. SHIT IS BOMB.

Is this stout dope all up in my domepiece? I am positive.

Narrative: To the rest of the world, Max Davidoff was a mild mannered high school chemist. Sure his Ford Focus was nothing to look at, and his wry stoiciometry humor was nothing to write home about, but his basement held wonders that would suspend all disbelief. After years and years of testing, he had finally identified what could only be identified as the Chocoromeda Strain in his tattered notebooks. The neighbors stared in disbelief as the hazmat crews cleared the home and brandished geiger counters with solemn reverence. It was simply not man’s place to tamper with the substrata of the chocolate world. The makeup of chocolate was too dear to be trifled with, but Mr. Davidoff would not listen. The chocolate detonation took place at 11:51 p.m. on Wednesday April 24, 2010. The neighbors ran from their KB track homes to find a murky current of liquid mahogany bubbling from the foundation of the home. The air was redolent of chocolate not unlike a single 42 year old secretary’s home while watching the latest Kutcher offering. The chocomatrix had torn Mr. Davidoff’s frame limb from limb, but leaving him in conscious control of the deep heat and bubbly stratum. A series of unsolved bank robberies evidenced that the perpetrator clearly liked chocolate, but would the local police every believe that the robber HIMSELF WAS CHOCOLATE. “Say cheese and die motherfucker,” Mr. Davidoff quipped a dusty R.L. Stein reference just before he claimed his final victim, the school superintendent. Those new microscopes were pretty fucking important and summarily denied. But revenge is a dish best served like chocolate fondue.

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Goose Island Bourbon County Stout, I Could Fight Infinite Geese

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Sickest Beer Picture of the Year. Ansel Adams all up in this bitch.

Happy Thanksgiving you Ingrates, Here’s an AMAZING stout review for you to be all thankful for.

Bourbon County Stout, Goose Island, 13% abv, Imperial Stout

A: The bottle pours a slick deep black with a light khaki head, The lacing is light but the liquid grips and obfuscates the sides of the glass. No light penetrates this darkness, not even at the edges. Just like those early dates, not even at the edges. Feelup jokes, we are doing them now.

S: It smells like a cherry cordial melted into a spiteful sludge. There are notes of dates, currants, licorice, and dark chocolate. There is an earthy oak to it too that makes this 12oz bottle pack a haymaker. Which is by no means a sleight to hay makers, you maintain an important profession and I doff my alfalfa webbed cap to you. Amish.

When I poured it, my face was all like this. Bourbon eyed.

T: The taste is surprisingly straight forward, the fruits are absent from the taste but the coffee and chocolate notes make a big impression. There is very little hoppy dryness, just a full, welcoming sweetness that is followed by mellowed by a big coffee body that has a slight heat that would benefit from some aging, but that is the case with most people obsessed with chocolate. Or wait, the opposite, people who eat to much chocolate need to get a time machine and, ah fuck it.

M: This doesn’t have a huge Abyssesque body to it. I don’t chew on the malts for hours and ruminate on it. Given the impressive ABV, it gets in, imparts a huge flavor and the finish is pretty standard. I am sure you would be able to smell this a mile away, but the taste doesn’t linger too long, which is a good aspect since the initial taste is where it is at with this beer. It’s tough to underscore how dangerous this beer is. Uninstall all your iphone apps before drinking this shit, oh whats that? Just bought Too $hort’s full discography on ebay? Too bad.

I would try and talk shit on this amazing beer but, it would be the gentle touch of soft trolling. Let's just be real.

D: As far as imperial stouts go, this is excellent. For something this huge with a staggering presence, I think I could actually go beyond the 12oz and request a bomber to myself. The weather will likely be the deciding factor for this beer as most situations outside will not be equal opportunity employers for stouts in general but the sweetness and light finish to this stout puts it in a nice position to argue its case for outdoor activities. Michelob Ultra nervously eyes its Canondale bicycle.

Narrative: “TELL US WHERE YOU HID THE BODY!” Sargeant Myers slammed his fist down on the cast aluminum table shaking Raven Moonclaw’s glass of water. “The body, my dear sargeant, is a part of what Aristoteleans call ‘the Aether’ and as a skilled ilusionist, I can never reveal my secrets.” He produced from thin air a Capri slim and ignited it spontaneously, despite being searched top to bottom upon booking. “You see my dear corporal, the line between menace and altruist is murkily unclear” with a swift slight of hand he transformed his Capri cigarette into an ebony gecko. “WHAT THE-” Sargeant Myers staggered back wiping his brow. “The problem with ethics and illusionists is the code of secrecy, for how can an objective ethical code exists without parameters of repentance or accountability my good enforcer?” The handcuffs clicked and shattered into sixlet candies onto the floor. “I myself do not detest the wicked, but merely embrace the sweet for the fleeting moments I am-” a black clod of smoke appeared and the final resonating words filled the interrogation room: “BEHOLDEN.”

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Alesmith 100% Barrel Aged Speedway Stout, Modding out my Integra So Hard Right now.

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Ok, if you are in a store and for some reason they have the 750 bottle release on the right, just remember it is worth 15 times as much as the one on the left.

Alesmith, Speedway Stout 100% Barrel Aged, 2009, 12% abv, some more top 100 beer bullshit, just another day in the life of a god damn middle manager.

A: This has a slick BP disaster look to it, without all the deceased marine life. It isn’t pitch black but imparts some nice deep mahogany notes to the edges, like a hardened cop with a heart of gold you somehow impart a sense of trust in this stout that despite his over character flaw evidenced 14 minutes in, he will make it all right after 90 minutes in your life. Also, nice lacing, tiny bubbles, coffee stickiness, and other things people don’t read.

S: This is coffee acidity, to a huge degree. Also entering the fray is a serious boozy profile that apparently hasn’t had the shithead weathered out of it after 2 years in an oak barrel. It isn’t as recalcitrant as the new Dark Lords, but it still is rambunctious enough to be bothersome. However, some nice bourbon and oak notes finalize the experience and you give it an approving nod into your club, aka YOUR MOUTH, where all the action takes place infra.

Coffee so hard, all up in my nosepiece.

T: Fast forward 3 seconds from the smell to the tasting, first one to show up to your sick rager is coffee, oh wait but he brought, acidity, and then, his other boy coffee, and then toffee. You don’t judge but things seem a little unbalanced in here, oh wait then his crazy friend chocolate shows up doing magic tricks and making observational comedy references. Everyone is put at east with a nice coffee walnut finish: your BA speedway house party is officially underway.

M: This coasts like a bucket of Sherwin Williams. I don’t mean in the way when you hire day laborers either. It coats like if people who cared painted your mouth with coffee and bourbon. We all know how much that costs IN REAL LIFE so this is a welcome reprieve.

I had to trade 7 bottles to land this one stupid ass bottle. Then I shared it with 7 people. So the butthurt is flowing so hard.

D: As much as I want to hometown and keep the drive strong for this amazing beer, this is certainly its weakest point. I can’t in good faith say that I would crack 2009 BA stouts all day while at Havasu doing sick broesque things. Then again, is that the target market? Notwithstanding, this tires a bit after a solid 12oz just due to the complexity and rampaging coffee and toffee double team on your bitter and sweet zones. Enough is enough the tongue declares insouciantly.

Narrative: Kicked out of the racing academy. Well, at least that is what he told his parents that his tuition checks were going to. The truth is that Chase Worthington was never attending a racing school in Temecula. He accepted “tuition” checks from his parents every 5 months and even in the summer session for modding his sick 2001 Mercury Cougar for drag racing or “Straight up Dragging it” as he abrasively referred to it, much to the chagrin of his friends, when present. His friends told him that running the mean streets of San Diego was not to be trifled with, that is, unless one were content to life his life “a quarter mile at a time.” This seemed to be a deafeningly infinitesimal stretch for a racer like himself. Cold air intake, cat back exhaust, chipped, sick body kit; all of the accoutrements were present however he forgot a single thing: his car had only 189 horse power and people grew tired of its inky discharge, regardless of the speeds that it allegedly traveled. This speedway pun was a speedway pun for the racing pun speedway pun, and in the end, they all learned speedway pun, racing.

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Brooklyn Chocolate Stout, 10% abv, BX straight put a choc. gem on them.

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Brooklyn Chocolate Stout, mad wallear for this skully cap

While not swimming in the Hudson river, smashing glass bottles at abandoned train yards, or contemplating traveling to better places, people in Brooklyn make chocolate beers.

Brooklyn Chocolate Stout, 10% abv

A: Spoiler alert, this big stout has a deep black finish to it like a matte black that you see douchebags downgrade their Range Rovers with. The lacing is beautiful, it tells your future and, oh wait, whats that Brooklyn, sticky chocolate and schmeboygahs? I am listening.

S: This is very simple, it has a roasted barley and a deep chocolate finish to it. I hate it when beers are this direct but it is like a Madden character with all the points stacked on one attribute. In this game, this is an obese secretary who LOVES. CHOCOLATE. If this were an X-Man, its mutant ability would be reminding people to buy lotions from Bath and Body works and then visiting Godiva. BUT WILL SHE USE HER POWERS FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

I love stouts, I love chocolate. I mash on this beer not unlike an elated turtle.

T: This just continues with the simple oat and chocolate rigamarole with a deep silky finish. There is a bit of coffee but the main attraction here is clearly the chocolate, if this redundant ass review wasn’t evident. There’s some sweet hookah cocoa beans and a bit of tobacco but seriously, how else can I say this? It is like a negligent ass Willy Wonka creation.

M: Surprisingly, the mouthfeel is out faster than a dead beat father. It just imparts the chocolate like a drunk uncle, and then stumbles out the door with a silky oat finish. There’s a bit of coffee that dries it out at the end but wow, this really makes me want to try Black Ops if this beer is this good.

With 20 years on this, it will be even better, I aint even mad.

D: This is scary drinkable and amazing through and though. I hope that these are either expensive or sold in really small formats because, wow, I can’t believe how easy it is to put this away. Stouts this big usually have a huge drying effect or a filling expansive nature. NOT THIS ONE. This is that silent old standby busser that always shows up for its shifts and does a great job, no questions asked. Thank God I dont live in Brooklyn so I can avoid amazing inexpensive be- ah shit.

Narrative: Prilly looked out intently upon the icy vanilla slopes, past the polar bears enjoying Coca-Cola, past the ice cream mountain, and blinding white pillars of creamy goodness. This wasn’t the life he dreamed of and he knew it. Vanillalopolis was a humble community of artisans and yeomen farmers, however, something never felt quite right to Prilly. He longer for a deep, thick succor. That ambrosial decadence that could only be found in succulent cacoa beans. The ongoings of Vanillalopolis just seemed so pedestrian by contrast. He tossed a vanilla snowball at a passing marshmellow bunny and watched it scamper away, leaving flakes of pure white coconut. “Someday Prilly, for really,” he mused to himself. Just as he was raking the vanillacones from the recent harvest he struck deep into the ground and, up from the snow white soil came a bubbling crude. Mahongany gold, Alabama tea. He dipped an index infger into the gurgling pool and tasted that deep chocolatey decadence that he longer for. The news reports reported that the septic explosion was completely unforseeable and Prilly’s family received a substantial settlement from the Wrongful Death case.

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Olde Rabbit’s Foot, North Carolina Changes the Game, Kinda I GUESS.

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No Rabbits Were Harmed in the Making of this Shitty Joke.

NORTH CAROLINA WEEK IS UPON US. For no particular reason, those old Tarheels dont get the cred they deserve so, here goes nothing.

Olde Rabbits Foot, Imperial Stout, 10.13% abv

This beer is a blend between Duck Rabbit, Foothill, and Olde Hickory, the portmanteau is the name OH SHIT JUST USED PORTMANTEAU IN A LEGITIMATE WAY.

A: The beer pours with a slick deep black inky cola look to it. Epigrams and entendres aside, the head is my favorite part. The thick whipped mocha head looks like a barista was all up in this bitch. Nice lacing with dotted Polynesian islands on the glass. Samoan people will love this beer if they ever discover North Carolina. Doubtful.

S: There’s an intense milk chocolate and frosting sweetness with almost no bitter from roasted malts. This isn’t a dessert beer, but it could be served at Red Robin with a Cookie Bramblecake or whateverthefuck.

At first when I thought about drinking all NC brews, I was all like dis. then I was it was pretty chill. super chill, even.

T: The taste maintains the sweetness and adds a bit of anise (that’s GED+ talk for licorice) and finishes with a coffee flavor that would make sense since people from North Carolina, bus drivers, truckers alike could drink this with their 3400 calorie breakfasts.

M: The mouthfeel has a nice prickly heat from the bourbon but it doesn’t get all up in your business and tell you how to do your job. It lets you wear the amount of flair that you desire, nice maltiness that isn’t too expansive and is respectful throughout the proceedings. The coffee doesn’t dry out the gumline too much and the result is a sweet booziness that you can doff your cap to in the street while pitching pennies. that sorta shit.

In North Carolina, even the turtles are wasted for a majority of their lives.

D: This is a swift nimble North Carolina aboriginal stout, poised and refined from a land of latent racism and excellent college basketball. Too bad most of the population is probably merking Natty Ice they could- well actually I think the bottle run on this was like 2500 or something so, I dont care if they missed out on it.

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Foothills Baltic Porter, North Carolina is Known for Its Nautical Engineering

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It makes me feel all like Peter the Great, except not a giant savage asshole.

Foothills Baltic Porter, 9% abv

Gold Medal Winner, BEST FUCKING PORTER SO JUST MOVE ON AND DELETE YOUR OLD PORTER’S NUMBER YOU SLUT.

A: This looks like a Porter but with some serious fortitude, not of that cross-over Imperial Stout madness its a big crazy thin porter through and through. The carbonation looks like a haunted ass house, or that last level of Contra. Either way. Deep dark browns, not black, not overly malty, just enough whoppers.

S: The coffee and deep bakers chocolate is present with a strange sweetness finish that seems to accompany in a red wine sort of way. It’s how I would imagine a sassy nana’s mouth to taste.

Thakns a lot North Carolina for making this brewery only. Now these kids never get to have it.

T: The taste delivers things in that gentle southernly Foothill sort of way. It presents a nice tray of chocolate delights, gives a sweet cup of antebellum coffee, coaxes your mane and assures you of simpler times and gives you a gentle exit, feeling fulfilled.

M: The mouthfeel is distinctively porter with a nice clean watery body that delivers a huge flavor without overloading that malty elements. I got this as an extra and it was amazing, especially since Porters are usually the weird artsy twin of the Imperial Stout who usually are all lame and drama nerds. you know the drill. SOCKING NERDS.

Which Porter Should I Take.

D: The drinkability is outrageous and you can put this away like Magic: The Gathering cards when a hot girl comes over. So fast. This is remarkable for the sheer complexity and huge body that it imparts but washes away clean instantly. It’s like some David Blaine ass porter up in this mix.

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Mikkeller Black Hole, scotch whisky barrel aged, the worst beer of the year. A winrar is this.

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This beer is horrible, avoid at all costs. Finally a beer to adequately represent this website. Do not drink this beer.

It tastes like giving a smooch to your drunk old highlander grandpa. The bubbles are a vile scorching oak taste like popov and nair on your mouth. It’s a scorching oral douche that has no place outside of the hateful island from whence it came.

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Seriously, I can safely say that, with the aroma, taste, and mouthfeel of this abomination, it doesn’t matter what style that this beer is, it is a chimera of testicle assaults. Ok, so I open it up, it smells like peat, dirt, home depot fertilizer, a rented van, Okla-, well, just horrible. It looks nice enough until she opens her mouth, just petulant candor and despicable things. The foam alone tastes like someone took a swig of Cutty Sark while smoking a cigar and spit it in your mouth.

I can’t underscore this enough, do not pay the $12.99 for this 12oz bottle, dont let anyone buy this for you, this is seriously the absolute worst beer that I have ever tasted.

My face was all like this after only 5oz.