Alright, if you are one of the 215 members in the Hoarder’s Society, there was already prejam on your tip for this malty banger. When you went to go pick up your bottles of Sour in the Rye Peaches and saw that “SYRAH BARREL BLACK TUESDAY” you know that pounding in your loins, it was real. This is a 2 per memebership release from the Bruery, no extra bottles sold, no stems no seeds no sticks. 2 fucking bottles. To be honest, I thought this was going to be a bucket of menopausal jizz. Imperial Tart of Darkness meets Lindley Park and some residual Kendall Jackson tannins.

I was dead fucking wrong. This might be the best beer that they made all year and it put me right in my fucking place when I opened it, at the Bruery itself no less. After I posted a brief write up on Friday, 17 ISOs went up overnight. Business as usual in the beer game, monkey see/monkey fucking offers Proprietors. Let’s stomp hard and elaborate on why this isn’t just Black Tuesday with Smuckers poured into it, prepare to be jelly tho.

Store this bottle away from your middle aged stepmom, she will drink this while watching Scandal. Such a waste.

The Bruery, Placentia
15.7% or some shit (markedly lower than BT)
California, Syrah Barrel Aged Black Tuesday

Commerical Hype:
The “wineification” of beer has been a constant topic of discussion these days, so why not just take a step further and blend the two? We took our Black Tuesday Imperial Stout and fermented it along with late harvest Syrah grapes from the vineyards of Los Olivos, from our good friends at both Fess Parker and Saarloos & Sons. We then aged this wine/beer hybrid in French Oak barrels, waiting for the perfect time to bottle it up. The flavor profile is remarkable. Notes of black cherry, vanilla, cinnamon, oak, aged balsamic, port wine and a sherry-like oxidation from the barrels. This beer is like nothing that you have ever tried before.

A: This beer looks nothing short of awe-inspiring. I hate delving into the old Lisa Frank handbook to describe swatches of magenta and deep purples, but this is robey as fuck. There is a plum and dark violet at the edges with light purple foam mixed with a dark roasty center as black as Jude Law’s soul. It clearly picked up an assload of tannins from the barrel and looks like a Cab/Stout hybrid, fucking beautiful ebony queen.

Maroney is 18 now, and this beer is mature enough for her palate.

S: The waft on this beer is more wine than stout and presents a unique tannic, jammy dryness with a touch of milk chocolate and tootsie roll smashed together. The wine and cocoa cascade over one another like dudes wrestling in a Castro bathhouse. There is a complete dryness to this and oak presence that keeps sticky old BT in check and dials back the sugars in a huge way. If you were one of the complete pussy naysayers who likes to trammel out that old “DIABETTTUSSS” joke you heard in 2012 that is still relevant to you, no beetus to be found. Srs.

Alright, before this shit blows up go toss up your tired ass FT: King Henry offer. Schemes and dreams.

T: There are dry cab forward notes of currant and blackberry at the outset, middle oak tannic presence like a Seasmoke pinot, light jamminess, thin execution with very little residual sugar presence, the underpinning black tuesday presents a nuanced profile with roast, char, chocolate cherry cordial and a sort of cacao clean finish to the palate. Was not expecting this, very exceptional. I can’t really think of any jokes to pepper this bitch up, it’s just fucking good and I was expecting far less. Shame on me for being an acorn penis.

M: As noted several times above, this is fucking dry but closes with a chocolate and wine stickiness. It is almost more wine than beer in many aspects, and again, it’s not like anything you have ever tried, I shared my only bottle so allow me to step off the hype train. ttot It’s like open mouth kissing a high school freshman and shes all into Nutella sandwiches and you are a creepy early 40s asshole drinking a dry cab, that interplay of lewd activity marries the two in an imperfect union of borderline felonius activity.

D: If you thought old curmudgeonus DDB was uncaring, I shared my only bottle of this with a person I had never met before, from Chicago no less. Old Pow87 loved it and you will too. I guess I shouldn’t be too fucking surprised that one of the four exclusive bottles is amazing when you pay $700 to join a beer club, I just didn’t think it would be this good. If AgentZero were still alive he would give this a resounding 4.1, which is essentially a perfect score. It’s a really good beer, and you probably can stop drinking those same fucking BCBS variants for once and try something new. My 2014 prediction is 19 dipshits in an Ohio backyard will drink this in 31 degree temperature and all agree that DDB was wrong and that no wine or chocolate came through from their meniscus pours. And the world keeps on turning. Happy 2014, suck on your own tits.

This beer is strange, but you secretly get off on it.

Narrative: Marcel Jevouire was a chocolatier with a tawdry, dark fetish. By day he was dipping strawberries and making chocolate ganauche, but when evening set he would pull out his box of spent wine cork and inhale deeply. That sticky grape, his cruel mistress of the night got his dick so hard even kittens claws couldn’t scratch it. The chocolate world was fine for children and pedestrian interests, but it was the wine world at night that got his barrels pumping hard. It was an adult pairing and an interplay of two worlds that only the most decadent Parisian could comprehend. Sometimes he would see a patron looking over chocolate truffles with a corked vintage peeking from their parcel, the tip gleaning that purple through the green glass would make his nipples erect through his mixing apron. Some would disapprove, but it was his own dark world of dry grapes and wet dreams.