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Goose Island Rare Bourbon County Stout, Time to Confront RARity Itself

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Well look at what we have finally come to, the grand dragon of most beer nerds’ collections and/or nocturnal alemissions: GI RARE. You see forums flooded with requests for this damn bottle and it sits proudly on a litany of top 100 lists. There were about 13,xxx (?) of these made, but ask any kid from the midwest and they will act like it was a 1 day, brewery only release, 25 bottles made. They were pricey back in 2010, around $50, so in modern day currency, your anus is gonna get some fissures. This is the regular old amazing BCBS aged in Pappy Van Winkle 23 year old barrels for a whopping 2 years. It doesn’t get much more ridiculous than that. Oh and as a trivia point, the barrels later house King Henry that stupid beer nerds love to obsess over. AND THEY WILL NEVAR BE MAED AGAIN.

On other beer blogs, pours of this are usually 1 molar unit in a baby asprin eye dropper just to say they had it. Fuck that, I slay whales alone and cry myself to sleep at night while gripping a banana clip: the way proper beer reviews are done.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.00% ABV

A: This looks literally identical to regular old Bourbon County Stout, did you seriously expect it to have some magic Pappy Properties (Paperties) to make it glow radiant black? It looks like a sheet of hateful obsidian, like lava that had freshly cooled into dark sheets of igneous glass. The lacing is minimal at first and then erupts from below like gastritis in the lower colon. The mocha foam dances like a whirling dervish and makes a proud obeslisk to stout craftsmanship. This beer is really nice looking, but smells even better. OH SHIT I JUST SEGUED SO HARD RIGHT NOW-

If you want to land Rare, you have to pull something huge. Try using “harden” on it.

S: This is a complex but incredibly balanced beast. This is a melange of toffee, caramel, toasted marshmellow, bourbon, oak, chocolate, light char, some bakers chocolate and a cookie batter that just blends together seamlessly. The whole thing just makes you feel sad about most all other stouts, pricetag notwithstanding. It’s like in the late 90’s when everyone had tongue rings, we had it so good, now it is just a series of crestfallen resignations. There are certainly cheaper beers within this ambit, Parabola comes to mind, but this has a certain incredible joie de vivre that keeps midwest traders up at night, unable to enter REM.

T: This just soars in every aspect of the stout world. It is the platonic paradigm of malt and bourbon integration. The heat is there, but it is restrained, like a patient mage with plenty of mana. You get chocolate, sweet bourbon, a nice roastiness like a s’more, It was incredible to just sit on this beer and wait for it to warm, at almost room temperature, it hits its zenith and ranks among the top 5 stouts that I have ever tasted. I cant belabor this point any further, it is absolutely incredible.

Every stupid jackass on the beer trade forums wants this beer, disregard donkeys, acquire currency.

M: Despite the other PERFECT aspects of this beer, this is hands down my favorite element of this beer. There is this intense fudge and bourbon crackle that sizzles with microbubbles along the gumline that have this bubbly heft to them that is both energetic and sticky like a drunk Delta Gamma. If they made bourbon Pop Rocks, this is what it would taste like, and everyone would be twisted like a bag of ropes.

D: It is strange to say that a $50(+) bottle of 13% stout is drinkable…but it is. It is incredibly drinkable. It is like how those Star Ocean games are 100+ hours and ruin your life, but you would still call them “playable.” I just want more of this but, let’s be honest, the asking price simply isn’t worth it at this point and by my calculations, it should be on the downhill slope any time now. These are the realities of the beer world, but like those ball busters gripping their Depurations so tightly, reason and actual quality is often not a factor in the beer trading world. Also, I still need a 2007 Kaggen and I will give my left kidney for it. ISO.

If you want more Rare, build more Supply Depots.

Narrative: The users on the CraftWorld forums could not take it anymore. Raven Darkriven had consumed their arts and crafts website and entirely denatured their entire endeavor. “Raven, your bezzled grimoir viewing portal is lovely, but you are taking all of the server space, none of the other crafters can offer their items.” Raven spun a handcrafted garnet ring on his index finger and rubbed his slender fingers together. “You see JANET, when I began crafting in the dark arts of beading and bedazzling, I invoked liche spirits of the highest order to ensure that MY CRAFT WAS SUPREME AND DEVOID OF ALL IMPURITIES. Your server space is host to the macaroni art that is evil incarnate, and the masses clamor for it.” Janet adjusted the waistband of her Lane Bryant elastic sweatpants. “Right, I mean, that pasta mosaic you made was nice, but all this evil stuff is making some of the other ladies uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, it is amazing, but everyone pretty much wants to quit at this point. Felisha hasn’t made a single dream catcher since your products started being listed on the CraftWorld website.” Raven drew small triangles on his alabaster skin and replied coldly “If other inferior manufacturers quit, then so be it. That is the will of the obfuscated embroiderer. I will make this product but once, to fade into the blue flame of obscurity to leave my dark legacy on this niche industry. I will ruin it all with my greatness. I will leave them all wanting and hating their own glueguns in my wake. This is the will of the skeletrix, carved into the throne of bon-” Tracy had heard enough of this and she had to check on her dried roses.

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Cigar City Apple Brandy Barrel Aged Hunahpu’s, Because Reviewing the Regular and Bourbon Was Not Enough

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Well, just short of doing the rum and whiskey variants, I think this should round out the old Huna triumvirate pretty nicely. I am going to save everyone from the shock of their lifetimes: this beer was amazing. I don’t say that because it sits proudly in the top 100 insouciantly uncaring of your petty desires, I say that because it melds all of my favorite aspects of the prior two versions and fills in what minor flaws there were. I opened a growler of this at my house with a bunch of people and even stout haters were enamored with this black beauty. Enough pre-reviewing, let’s get deep up in that review

I have had both the screwtop and swingtop variants, I prefer the janky old medicinal look of the screwtop but the swingtop is more official.

Cigar City Brewing
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 11.50% ABV

A: Keep true to the meciless Huna form, this beer just coats and strangles the light from every aspect of this beer. The malts are obsidian and darker than Jodie Sweetin’s heart. The mocha lacing is less substantial than the bottled and regular versions, but still clings with a very pretty sort of dirty aspect to it. The glass is literally ruined after you pour this into it, the entire thing just paints it this off khaki color that takes quite a bit to clean, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The south has created another deity worthy of reverence.

S: This has less chili presence than the regular Huna but still has a slight crackle of Cuban zest deep down. What is more present is this deep overiding sweetness and caramel presence that as first comes on like vanilla and marshmellow and goes to a naughty Werther’s Original sort of toffee place. The brandy is unmistakably present like Nana’s breath after a huge bridge tournament win.

T: This is a deliciously decadent Dove chocolate note to usher in the cadre of supporting caste comprised of brown sugar, light chili presence, a slight cinnamon crackle like holiday cookies that transitions into a sweet oak meets booziness that is totally fulfilling, like winning a Spelling Bee against ESL students. Fuck that, they entered the contest, don’t feel bad.

This beer is strange, but welcoming and oddly familiar, in a fantastic way.

M: This might be the most insane aspect of this beer, this seriously is the most viscously aggressive beer that I have ever come across. This stains the shit out of your glass like when Ivan the Terrible murdered 1500 unorthodox Tatar priests to access the Baltic shipping routes. That dark. Just drink this in a plastic cup and throw that shit away unless you want all subsequent beers to be haunted by the ghosts of huna’s past. I seriously don’t know how they did it. It isn’t just residual malts, if you want that trainwreck try Cigar City’s sugar disaster, Warmer Winter Winter Warmer. This is amazing on a whole different level of accolades. Respect.

D: This is strangely drinkable due to the medley of flavors going on. When I go to Denny’s and feel like having a 100% chance of diarrhea, I order the sampler. It has sweet, salty, savory, and such is the case with this beer. You getting bored with that chocolate? Oh here’s some fucking cinnamon, here’s some brandy, here you go, ancho chilis. You are welcome. It is like a god damn RX Bandit’s album up in your mouth hole.

When you focus on the purest elements, the truth is revealed.

Narrative: The cars whizzed by turn 4 with deafening precision and a constant din of squealing rubber and exhaust. The cadre within the ranks of the audience seemed to have one dental insurance plan per square 10, but that didn’t hamper their enjoyment of watching the Go-Karts tear the asphalt relentlessly, lap after lap. “Look at Brayden! SHOW THEM WHAT TIME IT IS BRAY BRAY!” Tonya screamed to her son whose age gap was of questionable legitimacy. The darkness in each participant’s heart fused together in a iniquitous ritual, evil to the core. It was a sport predicated on an abhorrence of all things progressive, repugnant to the environment. The checkered flag waved and the constant swirling of the high octane racers completed the rite of passage, Puzuzu, noted enemy of the dark magistrate, Hunahpu, rose from the center track. This abomination of sickening sweetness, chili dogs, diabetic pontification, and sticky sweet bourbon rose without a single ounce of trepidation. “MYYY MINIONNSSS YOU MUSTTTT, GO SEE EXPENDABLES PART TWOOOO” all present nodded in silent recognition and looked longingly on their Boost Mobile phones. If only they could purchase tickets with them, the will of the cantankerous deity could be done. Alas, the poverty stricken are the last to embrace the seraphic embrace of the iPhone 5. Such is their original sin and perpetual plight.