Category Archives: stouts

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Uinta Labyrinth Black Ale, You Have To Fight a Minotaur at the End of The Bottle

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Alright so let’s lay this to rest, black ale? No. Imperial porter? No. This is an imperial stout aged in rye barrels. I swear if they wrote that on the front in font size 22 they would have sold 200% more units. Everyone who stumbles across this ends up loving it and always says the same shit “BLACK ALE? I NEVER KNEW IT WOULD BE THIS GOOD!” Brewery kudos, labeling gaff, but in the end if you make an amazing product, you could call is Manticor Jizz and I would still probably drop the $15.99, just to, you know what I mean-

Infantile beer pics for the win.

Uinta Brewing Company
Utah, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.20% ABV

A: shiny black with a dull pallour that reflects a slight viscosity above a super black stout such as Abyss etc. Nice coffee colored head with thick lacing. The light around the glass was sucked in and not even photons could escape the lacing. This stout is a straight up entropy vacuum.

S: Black licorice notes, whisky heat on the nose, burnt coffee and oak scents, with a final sweetness that I cannot place, something akin to “dark caramel” if such a thing existed. There’s a mild anise and some leathery aspects, but a manly ass spaghetti western chocolate leather. That kinda shit.

A gigantic dark ale aged in rye barrels, Utah just introduced some serious problems to the rest of the Union.

T: Fantastic complexity, tons of bittering on the front with tomahawk hops and very herbal notes that give it an anise black licorice taste, think a shot of fernet brancha that fades into a chocolate milkshake. The coffee maltiness rounds out the body of this beer. The front explosion on the sweet taste buds is so overwhelming because the beer itself is so bitter, labyrinthian in character, your tongue cant make heads or tails as to where to go. The carbonation is moderate so the heat and chocolate oiliness is left to linger, which might be bad if the finish weren’t so pleasant.

At first when I realized this was a big black ale, my jimmies were rustled, then they were unrustled when I realized how good it was.

M: the mouthfeel has great coating, not excessive maltiness or carbonation. In fact, I feel that it was slightly flat if anything, but given the complexity of the flavor this is not a fair sleight to such an ambitious beer. Tough to push past the 2 beer mark unless you are really a fan of stouts and darkness to your beers. Most palates could handle a 5oz taster and that would be sufficient I am sure. But very tastey nonetheless and highly recommended.

D: I dont remember liking this style that much, what with Unibroue’s Terrible and Death and Taxes not leaving lasting impressions, however, this is probably the best “black ale” that I have ever had, excepting Mortification, which is very tough to find. It will likely be clositered into a niche where you use it to impress your friends who dont like beer, or relegated to the back of the cellar until Autumn begins its defoliation. This beer is certainly not welcome while one is working on his Transam or wearing cutoff jean shorts by the lake. Both activities comprise a large amount of my general lifestyle so it will be a tough one to work in.

After about 700ml of this, shit gets real and you start to wonder how you are going to get anything done in the morning. Scary realizations abound.

Narrative: Fumbling with the, is this it, my lighter? Click click, the flint strikes but only reveals more blackness. The last thing that I remember was approaching the everglades at night when I tripped over some licorice vines and, now I can’t make heads or tails as to where I am. The moon itself is obfuscated into a murky pallour behind jet black clouds, projecting a pathetic reflection. CLICK, finally the lighter strikes and I can see that my predicament is more complicated than I remembered, just darkness in each direction, an enveloping shroud that slowly seeps one of any hope of escape. Several paces later, and I feel more weathered, yet it seems I remain in my same position, more fatigued, with a lightness of the mind and body. Is this the “cave sickness” that they spoke of when I visited the mercer caverns as a boy? No, no time for that now, I have two options, continue down this murky path, ever exhausting and relentless in darkness OR lay down and succumb to the blackness. The labyrith will wait patiently for the sun to come.

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Cuvee Delphine 2009 De Struise Brouwers, After a Long Journey From Belgium, This Sweet Lady Lands Stateside

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I have a long documented love for Struise, from Black Albert to the strangely fulfilling Schommelpeird. This beer is no exception. This is Black Albert aged in 4 Roses Barrels for maximum pwnage. The potential sweetness of the 4 Roses did not seem to be a great pair with Black Albert, however, let’s take the Pepsi challenge to see if this gem is better than the Classic.

Sweet Nestle Kisses from that old bourbon proprietor down by the creek. Don't tell your foster parents, they wont love you as much.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgium
Russian Imperial Stout | 13.00% ABV

I always wonder about the labels on these beers, it’s like, seriously after all that time soaking in bourbon, it didn’t pick up a single aspect or ABV notch of bourbon, I don’t wanna talk to a scientist, those motherfuckers lyin’ and getting me pissed. It’s like how 50/50 Eclipse sits in Pappy Van Winkle for 9 months but somehow remains as non-alcoholic as ever. Anyway, this beer pours like Black Albert has been juicing, the sheeting is more intense, nice microfine bubbles, mocha foam lacing, but not super gnar on the clinging. It’s not like that 18 year old girl you accidentally told you loved her, not that level of cling. Still, undeniably a beautiful beer.

I wasn't super stoked on the 50/50 Eclipse 4 Roses but then this beer hit 60 degrees and shit went to maximum satisfaction real quick.

I know a bunch of beer nerds will get their pitchforks and rally but honestly, the nose (after it warms up) reminds me of Kate the Great in a huge way. “PORT SPIRELS ARE DIFERENT!” they will object, but seriously the sweet caramel tone of 4 roses got all up inside of Black Albert like a prostate exam, and the result is a healthier, burlier stout that can chuck kegs over a 12 foot wall. At first I was underwhelmed at 50 degrees because I was like, oh, apparently they put this in the barrel for about 3 days, then shit opened up like the throttle on an Audi R8 and the upshutfucks were distributed with panache and gracious aplomb. This stout has a lithe sweetness that doesn’t seem to come from the malt or the bourbon, it is a weird third aspect of caramel and marshmellow that comes in and interjects opinions like a poorly moderated Fox News show. All of a sudden you are confused as to who is correct, the deep bourbon or the chocolate toffee malts, existential conundrums abound.

This isn't exactly an automotive repair beer, then again, anything clocking in at 13% is basically a non-jetski beer.

The coating is actually thinner than I remember Black Albert being, but isna brown sugar manner that is hard to explain like finding concealer under the seat in your car. Again, it reminds me of Kate the Great that makes beef jerky and doesn’t tip valets. If this beer ratcheted back the cookie batter aspects, it would surpass kate, but this is like disputing the 911 Turbo vs. the Z06, there will never be a winner, just a huge amount of butthurt.

As far as drinkability goes, my glass is gone and that is a perfect indicator to me that, for 13%, people have been killed for less. It will not cross the threshhold of those people adverse to stouts or any dark beers, alepigment prejudice (APP) but if you have someone who is stoutcurious, you can get him/her to taste the succor of this sweet treat.

After a couple of these, I think it's safe to say I have no idea what is going on, chronology or otherwise.

Narrative: Treyvon Vizio had been a riverboat gambler as long as he could remember. Well, this warrants some clarification, Treyvon was born in northern Atlanta but adopted at age 3 to work a casino riverboat on the Meuse river in Belgium. The Netherlands were a strange place for a salt old gem like Trey, but he adapted quickly, swindling the passing German tourists, serving up “authentic” bayou cuisine coated in Belgian candied sugar, and espousing Mark Twain allegories that had no basis in fact. Old Trey was a sweet one, easy to like, but he would turn on you like an old Flemish adder once any form of jig was elevated. Technically, since he moved there at age 3, he shouldn’t have had a thick islander meets creole accent, but Noam Chomsky never called him out. He would just strum away on his river ukulele and tell the Belgian locals about his trials wrastling rivergators in a country where everyone carried firearms. Old Trey took a bite of imported cacao and surveyed his work amiably, sure, they were affluent river tourists, but what else would Belgian people be doing? Tracing back the roots of the Holy Roman Empire? Maybe investigating the history of 15th century oil painting materials? No fucking way. These people have enough X and trees to last through 18 Foster the People concerts, they were all about the riverboat gambling with old Treyvon.

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Left Hand Milk Stout Nitro, Finally a Beer That Sounds Like All of My Favorite American Gladiators

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OH SNAP SICK 4-20 review BRO, NITROOOO. Anyway. So, here’s a gentle gem from Colorado sent to me from Sean Cloyd, hooking it up hard in the paint. The bottle says pour hard, sit back, and enjoy. I am expecting some crazy aleworks with sparklers and massive carbonation but, it’s a pretty chill affair at first, I mean just look below. It is hardly a picture of rage, the level of rally is sophmoric but fulfilling, like sophmores themselves.

I don't know the science behind it but, I am on board. Magnets, how do they work?

Left Hand Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.00% ABV

So, after all the hubbabaloo about Guiness and their agitating widget, I was curious to see how this bottle would advance the nitro stout world. The result: POUR IT VERY HARD. I am not kidding, it tells you that right on the bottle. No fancy tech, no nanoagitation, or cellular meiosis to discharge nitrogen, just straight hard pours, the Colorado way. So I grabbed a big ass glass, Guiness appropriately enough, and poured it hard as fuck expecting a nice mess on my Left Hand. It hits the glass and just sits there for a moment and then goes into Snorolax cascade mode and evens out to what you see above. It wasn’t the most bad ass Bellagio foam show ever, but it was cool to be able to pour a beer like an asshole, on purpose, with good results.

This stout takes me back to the old days, simpler times when stouts were something you could finish by yourself, and pr0n jpegs took 3 minutes to download.

So this is a Crystal Light thin stout but in a great way, the sweetness from the milk stout doesn’t need some big malty tail to swing around, it is content just being itself. The mouthfeel isn’t quite like a nitrotap but, come on, did you really expect some straight up UK pub foamdome experience? It isn’t disappointing, I guess just put on some Oasis first to set the mood. The taste is a bit watery and you think you got tricked into a Weight Watchers 3 Points Porter but then the milkiness of the mouthfeel gives a gentle coating and the roasty nutiness sets in. And like that man who touched your thighs in the grocery store, it is gone as quickly as that, without a trace or witness to testify on your behalf.

You too can finish 4 to 5 of these in one night and no one will be the wiser. Believe in your dreams.

The low carbonation makes this exceptionally refreshing (particularly for a stout) and highly drinkable. At 6% you can session these while watching your football matches, Manchester v. Chelsea, etc. You get the point. UK shit. Very enjoyable, but not a show stopper. If you aren’t jaded by barrel aged imperial everything, you’ll still enjoy this gentle daffodil.

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Goose Island Bourbon County Brand Stout Coffee, The Perfect Morning Beverage for a Taxidermist

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Taxidermists do not fuck around. I have cable, so I know things now. This beer is lodged so tightly in the top 100 that it would take King Arthur and pneumatic jaws to pull this bitch free.

So take the already amazing Bourbon County Stout, then add (arguably, settle down Kopi Lowak) the best coffee in the entire world, Intelligentsia, and what do you get?

Today's review sponsored by Turkey Island Brewing Company.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV

Yes I know, the midwest is drilling my cellar like a freelance spelunker, but first you get complaints about too much Vermont, now too much CHICAGOLAND, next week, I am only reviewing beers from North Dakota.

Both of them.

(If anyone seriously has any beer from ND, contact me, that will get cashed harder than a meth addict’s government benefits check on the 15th.)

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.

After a bottle of this, I have no idea what is going on, but I sure have the energy to investigate it.

S: It smells like a pot of amazing espresso, oakiness, but coffee through and through, you can smell it 18 inches away during the pour. This is a lively coffee house where all the hipsters with glasses are tossing out HJ’s with capricious alacrity. Besides overwhelming amazing coffee, there are notes of dates, currants, licorice, and dark chocolate. There is an earthy oak to it too that makes this 22oz 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.

T: The taste is, get this, COFFEE. Yeah, no hiding the ball there this isn’t the 1919 WORLD SERIES here. It seriously is coffee, then espresso, then french press, then, wait…oh machiatto. Finally, 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.

Ultimately, no matter how weird you feel drinking this by 14% bomber by yourself, just think of how many other weird assholes that there are out there.

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.

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 22oz and request a magnum 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. This is meant for mornings. This is meant for those morning that you want to forget and those days you want to truly become aware of around 4:30 p.m. Go drink 14% beers in the morning, see how the rest of your day goes.

Don't like being sober at all? Love staying up really late? I have just the drink for you, and it isn't vintage 4Loko.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Some astute readers will note “WHAT THE FUCK, this is all recycled SHIT FROM THE BCBS REVIEW” the economy is tight, can’t be wasting characters on duplicative reviews. You get what you pay for, speaking of which, a recycled narrative with the word “COFFEE” laced in it:

Narrative: “TELL US WHERE YOU HID THE COFFEE!” Sargeant Myers slammed his fist down on the cast aluminum table shaking Raven Moonclaw’s glass of COFFEE. “The body, my dear sargeant, is a part of what Aristoteleans call ‘the Aether’ and as a skilled ilusionist, I can never reveal my COFFEE.” He produced from thin air a Capri slim and ignited it spontaneously, despite being searched top to COFFEE upon booking. “You see my dear corporal, the line between menace and altruist is murkily coffee” with a swift slight of hand he transformed his Capri cigarette into an ebony cup of coffee. “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 barista?” The handcuffs clicked and shattered into coffee 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: “COFFEE.”

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Pipeworks Brewing End of Days Cacao Milk Sweet Ancho Chili Cinnamon Non-Imperial… STOUT.

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I am not kidding. That is seriously what this beer has going on. You know that shit just got real when your stout has more adjectives attached to it than a teenage girl’s drink at Starbucks, but HEY, Hunahpu’s had all that going on as well, SO THIS SHOULD BE JUST AS GOOD RIGHT?

Right?

More like the end of trades.

Pipeworks Brewing Company
Illinois, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.10% ABV

I heard mixed reviews about this thing, some people were all half mast and calling this the second coming of sweet baby Huna, others decried that this was the largest misuse of chilies since Fear Factor pushed a ghost pepper in that dude’s urethra. Who am I to judge? I WILL SHOW YOU EXACTLY WHO.

The beer pours porter thin and leaves a mild cola sheeting that doesn’t seem to have the britches to carry all those modifiers listed above. The abv of 6% is of particular concern as well and once you taste it, you realize that you liked Tboz the best, not Chili. But, what about your friends?

The taste is like taking a delicious milkshake, watering it down substantially, but keeping that sweet cacao presence, and then adding some cinnamon for good measure. You still with me? Ok so take all that with your watery milkshake, and now add a jamba juice boost of ANCHO CHILIES. After about 8oz my throat has this mild stinging and numbness like when you rub cocaine on some nips. You know the drill. It was refined but out of control at the same time, not unlike 3J from Family Matters. I enjoyed my limited serving but even my levels of badassness couldn’t wrangle this whole beastly 22oz. What about your friends? They were rolling 3 deep on this one and ultimately it seemed like when you see a 92 lbs. girl at the gym with DD implants you think that the inner beauty of simplicity and refinement need not be sullied with a din of chili madness, plus they’re just disproportionate, I mean look at that.

IT IS A CHOICE.

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Central Waters Peruvian Morning, No Better Timber Than That Decadent Peruvian Morning Wood

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Penis puns. We’ve sank that low. I guess if you divide by zero enough times, you get dick jokes.

AND THE AWARD FOR BEST BEER PICTURE EVAR GOES TO:

Wait until you see what happens Friday night.

Peruvian Morning
Central Waters Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 8.50% ABV

I just have to put this out there, I think I am in love with the IDEA of Wisonsin by their beers alone. If we can forgive Belgian Red and Tart, New Glarus makes mind blowing, arousing beers; Central Waters goes a solid 3 for 3 with this amazing gem. Imagine taking their already exemplary Bourbon Barrel Stout, and aging it on coffee. The result is this sticky icky treat that delivers amazing coating, nice mild bourbon sweetness that comes across like marshmellow and toffee, and finally a vanilla/coffee finish that makes this seem like an acceptable AM beverage.

I have never been to Peru, but if this is what they mash on, then maybe all those rumors about their being a 3rd world country ravaged with poverty and unchecked imperialism ARE NOT ALL TRUE.

PERUVIAN COFFEE IN AN AMAZING STOUT?! You do not declare.

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Dark Horse Brewing Company, Bourbon Barrel Plead the 5th, I CHOOSE NOT TO EXERCISE THAT RIGHT IN LIGHT OF TASTING THIS BEER

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Ok so a quick backstory to my tawdry affair with this (spoiler alert) completely amazing stout. I originally traded and tried to land one of the 50 some bottles from the initial release and failed horribly. Later, I traded and landed an entire 4 pack of these bottles and kept swearing to myself that I needed to review this top 100 stout. The problem was, each time after I drank this 15% abv bottle, I just became a sleep jeep and couldn’t be bothered to record my flawed impressions. This bottle is from my buddy, Bear, so here’s a final bite at the apple, let’s see if I can actually complete this one.

The difference between regular Plead the 5th and BBpt5 is like Urkel vs Stefan.

Dark Horse Brewing Company, Plead the 5th Bourbon Barrel Aged, 15% abv

THIS IS ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE STOUTS SO TODAY IS A DOUBLE MEME DAY

Pop this open before a sexy date, your teeth will look like this.

A: Well all is quiet on this eastern front. Theres a fantastic cosmos of bubbles that forms on the surface and lets you know that you are dealing with a complex, vengeful beer that operates under its own moral code. Just look up there, the chocolate and bourbon practically spontaneously combust and set the surface on fire with rage. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The existence of this beer is akin to the "Divine Watchmaker" argument. Mere mortals could not assemble something this amazing without supernatural intervention.

S: Holy hell this beer smells amazing. There’s a deep chocolate frosting aspect, with a faint milkiness on the backend like 85% cacao mixed with creme, some butterscotch and molasses toffee, finally a hot bourbon note closed the gates and declares the war a victory. A victory indeed. Every time that I open a bottle of this I remember anew how amazing it is. It is thoroughly fantastic on the nose, guess what (spoiler alert) the taste is amazing too-

The first time I tried this stout and then read the abv, my face was all like-

T: Initially there’s a nice coffee dryness like hopping into the dry leather saddle with Juan Valdez and his trusty burro. He hands you some cacao nibs to chew on and your ruminate over the New Mexico landscape and wonder how you had strayed so far from South America, he took another swig of Elijah Craig bourbon and you realize that he is less a coffee horticulurist and more a nomadic vagrant. The chocolate and coffee give this finish similar to a mocha that has been spiked with some Pappy Van Winkle. I always toss around the “top 5” and “lifetime achievement” awards with capricious infidelity, but seriously, this beer is amazing.

Protip: you are not the bird in this scenario after drinking this beer

M: The mouthfeel doesn’t take up more space than is needed in the overhead compartment, just pure ass beatings delivered with alarming efficiency. This imparts a huge dirty bomb of swift chocolate and bourbon and then is gone before you even know what organization imparted this efficient terrorism. All you know is that, from the destruction comes order, and the San Francisco earthquake may have ruined everyone’s shit, but it was rebuilt stronger and more solid in constitution as a result. TL;DR drink this beer to be stronger, funnier, and more impressive with the ladies [FN1 citation needed]

After I finished my first 12oz bottle and realized that I was likely 2x the legal DUI limit, I was like-

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, that is all there is to it, and god damn is it scary as a result. At least they had the sense to ratchet it back to a 12oz serving. It is strange, like how in Trainspotting you see everyone getting destroyed by heroin but they just want more, that’s this beer. You just want more of it and it puts your ass to bed like a swift choke hold. Great now I have to try and put together a coherent, clever narrative to sum up the joie de vivre of this beer after punishing myself with that crazy abv.

How to deal with the butthurt that comes with drinking your final bottle of BBpt5, film at 11.

Narrative: Licorice Miter was an ebony beauty, a beauty full of a murderous rage. Generations of powerful equine lineage had developed the fastest, yet the most rage filled horse that man had ever seen. To enrage the pituitary gland, its owner would get chocolate wasted and come taunt the horse with re-runs of Step by Step. The mere smell of a Mint Julep was sufficient to send the horse into a rage. It was deep, dark, and powerfully aware of the torque that it imparted into the loose soil. Miter never lost a single race and never allowed a single penance for the transgressions suffered at the hands of others. Through its own rueful disposition, it learned to harness the rage of the horse condition into an awareness of the future and the futility of the present. The taunting and whipping of the tiny pilot amused Licorice in a manner that seemed fitting for such a self-aware horse, the darkest horse, harboring the deepest rage, accomplishing the greatest feats.

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Three Floyds/Struise/Mikkeller/Surly Baller Stout, This Stout is Blended too Hard to be Ballin on a Budget

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Oh shit, the Voltron of baller ass beers,l a blend of: Black Albert, Darkness, Dark Lord, and Beer Geek Brunch. I will let you ruminate on the potential for a moment. Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.

This beer -BALs so hard, but first barrels gotta find me.

Three Floyds Baller Stout, Russian Imperial Stout, 13.8% abv

A: It has a bit of a wateriness to the pour that doesn’t really blow me away given the all start lineup of dark potations blended. The Darklord alone should be enough to consume the world, but it isn’t necessarily bad as a result. For the composition of those 4 beasts to create something with the coating of gentle Czar Jack, the result is anomalous. The carbonation is fantastic and clings to the glass with Ellis Island desperation. The color of the foam is dead on Dockers’ khakis, my favorite Mervyn’s foam selection.

WAIT. Darkness. Dark Lord, Black Albert. Beer Geek Brunch? I see what you did thar.

S: The smell has a nice coffee roast with a bit of an oakiness popping in here and there, however, the wheelies are popped by the chocolate and sweetness. I can only assume that Darklord and Darkness teamed up to whip the other two rapscallions into shape. The brownie batter smell lingers until a nice espresso element sutures the wound and the smell is done. Pretty impressive really, don’t know what haters hate.

T: The sweetness has a great interplay with the coffee element and the result is a bitter upfront port character that is not altogether chocolate, but not just roasted malts either. It is funny how each beer contributed a different element to the final product, there’s the obvious sweetness from the Darklord that is faint, a nice coffee from Beer Geek Brunch, some roasted malts from Darkness, and a nice charred oakiness from Black Albert. No falacy by composition here, just a solid stout, BALLER EVEN.

Combining these beers has showed me something that I knew about myself all along. Just like Uncel Dolan.

M: The mouthfeel is surprisingly light given the composition of the 4 knuckleheads involved. Notwithstanding, I feel that it is a more original product as a result. I don’t enjoy this more than any one of the parts involved, but it’s kinda like a janky ass Voltron. It might even be Go-Bot status. But even the sorriest Transformer like Nightscream or Cosmos is still a Transformer, that’s pretty bad ass.

D: The individual beers involved, Black Albert excepted, aren’t exceptionally drinkable, but strangely, this beer is splishy splashy and drinkable. The coating isn’t intense and as a result the synthetic oil burns cooler. I don’t know who was submarining the efforts to make this thinner and easier to drink but, I would say that this is the greatest aspect of the synergy between the elements. I don’t know that I will put this in my water bottle before I get into some sick ass MMA, but it’s pretty breezy and enjoyable for a gigantic stout. This beer has me feeling all like a Newport Slims advertisement up in this mix.

RISE MY BARREL AGED ARMY.

Narrative: Metroplex was a shitty Transformer and he knew it. Sure, Transformed he was a bad ass robot that would make Gundam quiver. But he “disguised” himself as an entire city block. The rest of the Decepticons just kinda sighed robot sighs and shrugged their massive robotic shoulders when Metroplex would dissassemble himself into a Jiffylube, Chick-Fil-A, Planned Parenthood, and Ju Jitsu Studio. “Starscream, please can you just, tell him it is painfully obvious, no one is fooled, literally not even the blind Transformer Brailzor is fooled by his transformation.” Deep down Metroplex had feelings too. He knew that the disguise was shitty and inoperable. The Planned Parenthood was always closed and the Ju Jitsu studio just had a guy who watched a ton of Affliction tapes but, deep down he had spirit. The elements that composted his false city were bad ass in their own right, even if assembled it was an underwhelming display of power. “So then Megatron was all like Metroplex? More like METROSEX! Oh, oh, didn’t see you standing there Metro, uh, we were just-” Metroplex ran to the lower chambers of the elaborate robot facility and buried his face in his iridium pillow. “THEY DON’T GET YOU! NO ONE GETS YOU!” he cried his autotuned sobs into his comforter while his My Chemical Robomance poster looked on ruefully.

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Ode to a Russian Shipwright, Olvalde Farm and Brewing Company, All the shipwrights I have ever met have been ode.

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This is an elusive and strange beer that I have been seeking since last year and FINALLY I met a kind soul from Minnesota who hooked this gem up. It’s an imperial porter and then, get this, THEY PUT SPRUCE TIPS INTO IT. Some of you haters might be like “yucks, I prefer beechwood aging” and that’s cool, more of this scarce porter for me. Also the bottle is a swingtop growler, which I think is a nice touch, something all those dead shipwrights would appreciate.

For real porter, You ODE, you ode.

Soulja boy knows about ODE

Ode to a Russian Shipwright, Olvalde Farm and Brewing Company, American Porter, ABV who the fuck knows

A: The carbonation on this beer looks like a foamy ball pit of khaki balls, some cleaning is warranted. The lacing takes its sweet ass time but finally lays out some trench warfare and the stalemate is set firmly with the advancing deep blackness. The inky depths aren’t took elaborate, but if the coating was too nuts, I would pull the imperial stout card and then everyone loses.

This beer is hard to explain so FGSFDSFGSFDS-

S: Initially I get a weird belgian sweetness with a nutty backend like the third act of an Eddie Murphy movie. Seriously, the nose reminds me of a weird belgian dubbel or a fruity zest from a tripel. This is a total trojan horse and those liver walls that Poseidon lovingly created topple effortlessly.

T: The taste has the initial Belgian clove and yeasty delight, but then it turns to a strange herbal raisin aspect. The toasted malts are like a zesty lighthearted porter but then all of a sudden shit gets all herbal and Evergreen really quickly. I am not talking about a hoppy aspect, I am talking like literally, trees, Conifers, kisses from lichens. Especially then this warms, I feel at one with the forest and harness the verdant fields and fennel with relentless tenacity. It’s like mouth kissing a vegan girl that only uses Burt’s bees mouthwash or whateverthefuck stand-in products those buzzkills use.

Oh hey guys I just found this porter with spruce tips, I dont know the ABV thoug-

M: The mouthfeel is refreshing and leaves this sweet zesty, fruity, but confusing finish. The malts themselves don’t coat aggressively, it isn’t overly sticky or overbearing, but the crazy yeasty character coupled with the exceptional leafy tundra all up in my grill. I have no idea how to compare this to other porters, but I like it, I don’t know how to compare Golgo 13 to other NES games, but, I think it was pretty bad ass, through 8 year old eyes. Now I need to find an 8 year old and feed him this rare ass porter.

D: This is actually exceptionally drinkable and totally changed the game on porters. I have no idea on “bottle” counts on this strange Manticor. It has a fragrant strange ester to the taste, a nutty finish and finally a great herbal character that sutures the wound. On paper it doesn’t seem like something that would work, like the Pontiac Aztek, but then, this actually does work, unlike the Pontiac Aztek.

At first I thought this porter would be strange and feed off of my curiosity, but the joke is on me as this beer satiates its needs on my tears, knowing I can't find it again.

Narrative: After just three years in the woods, David Thoreau VI was sick of this imposing legacy. He did not abandon an unfulfilling job at a pencil factory, he worked at See’s Candy, which by the accounts of the Claymates (fanclub of Clay Aiken) this is the best job ever. David or, D3, as his friends used to call him, kicked a rock and sighed as he ambulated through the woods looking at the conifers, softwoods, Tamaracks, and even the lowly Deciduous trees. “If only there were a way to enjoy sweet decadent candy, and still commune with the forest and not look like a total sellout hypocrite, like my ancestors.” A pinecone tumbled down a mossy bank and he felt a chilling air wrap around him- “Minneeesoooootaaaaa-” the trees softly beckoned to him. “Must just be the last of those Toffee-ettes, messing with my blood sugar.” A series of quills spelled our the word “SRSLY MN” and he could feel a grave communion with the wild, a sort of link from the chocolate and the woods themselves. He remembered a quote from his boring, sellout, unfocused, rambling ancestor, ” D3, I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” D3 knew that this was a hollow shell of a life system and a baseless life philosophy, but this was not Walden Pond revelation, this was a call to the glorious land of Minnesota. D3 had what alcoholics call, a moment of clarity, and remembered so fondly all of those episodes of “Coach” that he watched when he was younger and realized that only in the coldest, most evergreen conditions, could he attain that sweet balance of See’s candy, and being a pedantic, closeminded sellout like his great great great grandfather.

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Brouwerij De Molen, Tsarina Esra, This Beer Is Better Than Esra (groan)

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Here’s a strange, rare gem that I initially sought out to see what Molen has up their sleeve and ended up getting it for free. I guess that’s the cars you’re dealt in the beer world. So a whopping 180ml bottle, I really should have shared this beast with a bunch of friends right? PSYCHE.

Is it a tiny bottle or a HUGE GLASS? Optical ALEUSIONS.

Brouwrij De Molen, Tsarina Esra, 11% abv imperial porter

A: This looks as one would expect an imperial stout to look like, EXCEPT IT IS AN IMPERIAL PORTER. This has nice mocha foamy bubbles with mild carbonation. The shine is a deep blackness with a watery character that reminds me of Narke offerings. Maybe it’s just the small bottle, maybe I just have large bottle envy. That’s probably it.

Whenever a beer smells incredible, I always prepare myself for a let down on the old tastebuds. I deal with it.

S: This is easily my favorite part of this beer. There is a deep vanilla scone, cinnamon, nice peat backend and some barrel notes that have a Werther’s original sort of finish to them. I am guessing that is the whiskey aspect that is working so well with the light body on this one. This little bottle packs a huge aroma, particularly for the gentle carbonation. It reminds me of that sub that initially seems all bad ass because he sits in a chair BACKWARDS and addresses students with clever nicknames, but then you realize that he is just a liberal arts douche that has read A Separate Peace a billion times.

T: The taste is a bit of a let down given how much of a malt chub was worked up in the aroma. The taste has a ton of coffee ground flavor, tons of roasted malt, a big dryness, espresso notes and an intense bitterness that is coming from the challenger and saaz hops. A bit too hoppy and herbal in the finish for my sweet tooth. I am trying to get diabetes here and work on my mantits, not open a greenhouse.

The smell was so good, but then the actual taste of the beer just continued to trick the shit out of me.

M: The mouthfeel is slick and doesn’t present a huge coating initially but then the hops come through slapping people in the junk, making misogynistic comments and drying the place out. You go to a club and it’s a fun sweet time and then Italian hops show up, all oily, making the entire place bitter. The carbonation just starts breaking up greens and chills out without really getting up in the mix, which if maybe it decided to strap up, the coffee and hops wouldn’t be mashing on your bottle so hard when you explicitly told carbonation, ONLY CHICKS AT THE TABLE NO HOPS.

D: This is a moderately drinkable imperial porter and the tiny bottle was just right to hit my honey spot. I didn’t really need much more of this so I guess the limited run and the huge coffee dryness make this a level 2 alcoholics drink, not the crazy dangerous drinkability of stouts like Class V, or the huge firepower of Birth of Tragedy, but just enough you broaden your horizons like a stout/porter with its nipples pierced.

What a cruel sentence to deal with, awesome smells then hoppy, peaty whiskeyville. After 8oz they let me out for good behavior.

Narrative: Eudoxia Lopukhina walked the chilling streets of Kiev. Despite the government controlled media reporting a balmy spring, the oppressed masses knew better. This was 2065 and the citizens had seen too many years of rule by Svedka cyborg overlords to place hope or credence in a future that holds any shred of wistful optimism for better days. The streets that once thrived with culture now were overrun by terse, irascible robots that cared little for approval poll ratings. One babushka was seen eating a chocolate bar in the streets when a cold irridum grip snatched the rare treat and ground it into the cobblestones of Polonium Square. There were brighter days of bourbon, chocolate, and coffeehouses where the locals would slap one another on the backs and discuss proto-Pushkin, the 2.0 andronoscribe that seamlessly assembled prose in Cyrillic script. Ever since the discovery of the seemingly limitless power source, hoponium oil, the drones could oversee the people and work them mercilessly into the earth. Classic neo-revisionist Russian comic, Vladimir Nyetchtokov commented “yes, it was traditional Russian joke for to make parallel structuring and then reference the homeland but, the robots found this to be too wordy. Now Russian jokes are just terse declarative statements. Here, I show you newest Russian zinger: the stones are hard due to composition. That is it. Is best Russian joke in circulation.” The coffee days were long gone, and the days of hateful whiskeybots ruled the Asian continent with relentless tenacity.