0

Total Eclipse of the Stout, 50/50 Imperial Eclipse Stout, Evan Williams’ -bals

|

A Total Eclipse of the Stout

Astronomy getting all twisted like a bag of ropes.

Imperial Eclipse 50/50 Brewing Co, Imperial Stout, 9.5% abv, aged in Evan Williams Barrels

A: Not the hardest convict on the block, nice oiliness but not unapproachable. It has a good carbonation that flees cell block 50/50 immediately. There is a nice lacing that sticks around looking all like Mervyn’s cargo shorts.

S: Holy hell, the bourbon has still not settled down at all. This smells like whiskey, oak and raisins all the way down. This doesn’t come across like those tame ass raisins in barley wines either. I mean angry California Raisins after years of being portrayed as a racist demagogues. That sort of pissed.

T: The bourbon shows up immediately and opens the door for a series of cronies, each one more hateful than the last. Filing in succession we get coffee, wearing an eye patch, raisin, brandishing a switchblade, and the mute, fig, silent but deadly with the sais. What a band of rogues this barrel assembled for my palate.

M: It is not overly filling but it is still intimidating given the panoply of items being presented. I don’t feel like I need to sign over the title deed to my tongue, but it certainly is implied. The coating is nice and similar to a breakfast stout until bourbon comes rolling in and busting up the place. If my tongue owned a PS3, he would be smashing it. Now where am I gonna find another copy of bourbon barrel Katamari Damasi on such short notice?

D: Well given the fact that my mouth feels like an oil refinery, I would say “not very.” This feels like a barrel crude oil and not in that cool Abyss ‘09 way. This just feels dangerous like I shouldn’t smoke around it. I don’t care about the different versions, there is something inherently insane about this beer. Some might opine “oh this cousin cuts himself LESS” but that doesn’t matter, it is still patently insane. Usually I would complain about the abv but here it is just the execution. It is like someone with ADD was in charge of the secondaries and my palate is a proximate victim. Coffee splash damage +24.

Narrative: The life of an oil refinerist was not glamorous, hell, it wasn’t even recognized by Google as a legitimate profession. That didn’t stop Slick Crudework. His parents almost named him knowing his future prospects, but that is a story for another time. He had been the overseer at the Mobil platform #42 in Long Beach for as long as he could remember but he didn’t mind it at all. Slick would come into the local AMPM covered in sludge and the recalcitrant Korean man would yell at him but, hey, if not for Slick, would those pumps be pushing out overpriced unleaded for Mini Cooper owners to feel good about themselves? Probably not. “A 211, some henny, and some Listerine strips.” The truth was that Slick did not even want these items, he had heard E40 order these items in a song and wanted to seem relevant. The Korean shop keep presented them to him balefully. He followed his own mucky steps out to his car. Sure everyone thought he was a drunk and overpowering, but who really was the crude boss in this bossocracy? That’s what I thought.

0

Peeper American Pale Ale, Maine Beer Company, Peeping So Hard Right Now

|
Jeepers Creepers Stop Peeping

Jeepers Creepers Why You Peeping So Hard?

Not since Ma$e have so many been Peeped upon so hard.

Maine Beer Company, Peeper, American Pale Ale, 5.5% ABV

A: There is a deep gold hue to this beer with tons of foamy white carbonation. There’s some lacing but it is a pretty standard affair, you pretty much know what you’re getting when you buy a Pennywise album. Ironically, this isn’t a beer that I would be peeping on all hard. It is an average outing

S: This beer smells of sweet pine, orange zest, mild pie crust and some light honey. I am accustomed to being olfactory raped by IPAs and DIPAs so this is more of a pleasant walk in the park with an old sweetheart. A sweetheart who gently rubs sweet honey and grapefruit all over your nostr- man, this Pale Ale talk is getting all salacious all of a sudden.

T: This is a pale ale but the maltiness and grapefruit notes make me believe in my heart of hearts that this started as an IPA, but hey, who am I to point hop cones? There’s a really nice breadiness and sweet juicy hop profile that makes this a very relaxing beer to drink. The taste is honestly not that complex but Paper Mario wasn’t a complex game and I enjoyed that so, hey, there’s an inapposite analogy to stick in your cap.

M: This is extremely light and as soon as the flavor is imparted, it scurries off like a Quaker prom date, with no additional fulfillment in store. That isn’t to say that this is somehow deficient, it is just overly EFFicient. Maybe linger around for a bit Pale Ale, watch Just Friends starring Ryan Reynolds at my place? No romancing for this Pale Ale.

D: This is easily this beer’s selling point. It is incredibly refreshing and just extends an entreating hand to pull you along lovingly gulp after gulp. I would almost, this is a strong almost, prefer this to Blind Pig, if only because it is more session able, albeit less memorable.

Narrative: “And therefore, the ignoble pursuits set forth within the ambit of ideals encapsulated in Kratos’s actions in God of War, is therefore, anything but godlike. Thank you.” Walter Currington concluded his opening statement at the Video Game Ethics convention. Not a single eye was left dry after his classic appeals to G.E. Moore with regards to Earthbound and the delicately woven parallels between Banjo Kazooey and Sartre seemed entirely organic. Rick shifted in his chair, “RICK! It’s….your turn….” the grand ballroom of the Radisson seemed entirely empty as casual gamer Rick strode to the podium and placed his Bubbilicious on the handrail on his way up. “I don’t need a lot, I don’t ask for a ton from my games and well, my life.” The crowd hushed intently and paused for his famous Epicurean defense of casual gaming. “Truth is, I was going to come up here and defend who I was, and talk about the simplicity of Peggle and Farmville but…” he scanned the room with his piercing blue eyes, “the truth is, you don’t need an ethical system to tell you what’s good, just go with it.” The crowd waited a beat and burst into applause. “HE HAS JUST REVOLUTIONIZED INTERSUBJECTIVE ETHICS FOR CASUAL VIDEO GAMES,” one excited attendee commented as Rick coolly passed by. Rick had been coming to these things for the free food and gave a couple simple speeches about “Kinect or Wii or whatever, and people just get all into it, and that’s fine, I just want to be a fun guy to have around, not be all serious.” After revolutionizing ethical systems, Rick piled into his Chevy Aveo and put a Smashmouth CD on.

0

Ale Asylum, Bedlam Belgian ale 7.5% abv

|
Ale Asylum Bedlam

Soddom. Gomorrah. Bedlam.

Ale Asylum Bedlam Belgian IPA

A: It looks like a cross between a standard IPA and a Belgian Golden. You get some yellowing and some moderate hazy light amber tones but the appearances seems pretty tame. The lacing on the side of the glass is like a haunted house and grips the entire way down. It’s like all those death scenes in lame ass 80’s movies with people falling.

S: Citra hop hell. This escaped like a virulent herbal genie when I opened the bottle. You get the Yosemite forest with pine and crisp conifers and then the tangerine and citric notes follow swiftly, it smells incredible. It feels like Pliny the Elder at Christmas time. This beer is 2 legit to quit on the hop presence.

T: The taste has very little of the juicy notes in the smell. At the outset your get the herbal aspects that the high alpha acid hops produce, but then, like a child left after tee ball practice, the hops abandon you to the company of a circumspect Belgian man. His Vanover smells of sweet turbinado sugar but, bineg a child you trust it through and through. Ultimately, no candy is provided.

M: It is light and crisp, I should underscore that it is still a great beer, albeit a bit deceiving on the old hop profile. You could give this to basically anyone and they would love you for it. Unless you live in California, don’t give this away, save these for yourself, they can buy their own Sculpin.

D: The Belgian hardly slows down the traction on these tires, this beer is meant for hot weather and dry heats. Why it is distributed in humid, low temperature places is beyond me but I also can’t understand why people from the east coast wear North Face jackets to bars, so the ideas are congruent. Ultimately you can drink this high ABV, tasty beer ridiculously fast, you can play beer pong with it, you can load it into some Home Depot tube and kill it; the only troubling aspect is your friends healt- I can’t even get that out seriously. Drink this swift and fast.

Narrative: Hermes languished on Mount Cyllene kicking rocks idly in his path. “Ah Hermes, what’s gotcha lookin so long in the gums?” Argos asked, consoling with his many eyes. “Aw jeez Argos, I just got all this old speed and no one seems to want to get that wasted anymore.” “Oh?” Argus questioned with a series of tilted brows. “Yeah, here I was, getting all these people sufficiently drunk and all of a sudden, they cut my distribution to the lower Mediterranean, can you believe that? Then here I am just stuck to kick rocks with a bunch of Stoics, holy hams and eggs!” Hermes folded his arms and felt the power that he wielded. His speed could intoxicate a mortal man several times over. As a concession, he delivered an Edible Arrangement to the failing economy of Greece and hoped that they would continue to drink themselves into oblivion. “The EURO is strong with this one” Poseidon remarked and proceeded to destroy another coastal town, insouciantly.

0

1/2 Idjit! Porter, Dugges Ale, Sweden Only Rocks 1/2 a Idjit

|

For those who can't take a full Idjit, here's just a 1/2 Idjit. The size of the porter isn't everything.

A: The appearance is dark and murky with deep iced tea browns at the edges. It looks like the repository water at your favorite water park. It has pretty mild carbonation and comes off as lackluster as a Deer Tick album, it just doesn’t care if you enjoy it or not. Which is strange because I thought Sweden was all into helping its citizens and giving away everything for free.

Meanwhile in Sweden. . .

S: The smell is like a chocolate ashtray, burnt malts, like a scorched boil happened or someone was abusing cocoa beans something fierce. There’s also a deep coffee smell and a sort of tobacco finish. I’m not stoked to drink this and the $14.00 price tag didn’t help matters much. I was probably just subsidizing the health care of those poor Swedish brewers.

T: This is burnt malt at first and then the smoky notes sheepishly show up slowly. The whole Racine tragedy unfolds as the triangle love interest is completed with stale coffee as the virgin martyr. This might be a compelling one man monologue but the whole thing just takes way too long and has no fulfilling finish, it’s like Kurt Russell in a glass.

This is my life if I never had Idjit again, full or half.

M: the mouthfeel is thin and swift, imparting burnt cigar and chocolate dust along my teeth. I dont think my teeth whitening was worth the offshading that this beer imparts but, it is dead on for the genre so I guess we can’t knock it for giving the old college try. The old second string noseguard for
Kent State sort of try.

D: Overall, I dont smoke and I dont make out with people who smell like American Spirits. So I guess, no, not very drinkable and I am not stoked to drop a ton of MAD COIN on this Swedish meatball again.

Oh no, I just drank the whole bottle. Oh yes, that was a waste of money and calories.

Narrative: Torgny stabbed the arctic sheeting lightly and stared off into the distance. “TORGNY! You are must to be making the sheets faster! LARGER!” his supervisor called out to him. Life was rough on the ice farm. What with the whole, making the ice, waiting til the 9 month winter season and harvesting it; life was rough and cold. Torgny would complain, however, every morning at the crest of 12:45 p.m. when the sun was rising, he would see his old classmates pile out of the brewery. Each looked comically like a Victorian era oil prospector, smoking an oversized cigar, eating Toblerones with careless abandon. “That life is not for me to be having,” he thought in broken English and shook his head. Sure his hands would split with terrible cold and his ice sheets would only be made into Formula 50 Smart Water, but there could be nothing less fulfilling than making chocolate tobacco water that no one liked. “TORGNY, is the timing for the lunching RESPITE!” MMM sweet huskmankolst and tasty pitepolt.

0

Armand 4, Lente, Oude Geuze, Belgian Acidic and Sick Wid It

|

Oh Wait, #7 Ranked Beer in the Whole World? Things are real in and around the field.

Armand 4, Lente, Geuze, 6% ABV

A: The beer has a radiant hue to it that is mellow but gold, like fresh cornbread in a field of poppies. The carbonation is huge and produced major frothy losses. However, this beer is rare and annoying to ship in from Belgium so, there’s an inherent bias. Dont touch it, dont even look at it.

Please Dont Touch the Lente.

S: The smell is acidic and tart with a tart lemon and apricot to it. There is a bit of white wine tannins and funky wet hay/post dogbath towel smell going on in a great way.

T: The taste is wild tart skittles, pear, apricot, and a deep acidity to it. The prickly tartness lingers long after you swallow and there’s almost a sort of red bull sugary finish. I dont want it to rip my mouth apart, but I know it is coming. Gumline recedes with every sip.

I know something bad is coming.

M: The mouthfeel is light and crisp like biting into fresh Anjou pear, however, the prickliness of the sourness burns and washes hot in a ph2 sort of way. With each sip, there’s a huge frothiness that expands in torrential sourness.

D: This is drinkable at first, simply due to how fantastic it tastes. However, right around the crest of a full 750ml tour of duty, I need some tums before I stoploss my ass into another round with this acrimonious asshole. It is amongst the finest sours/geuzes that I have ever tasted, but the acidity is almost too much and tears up the gumline like a native american treaty. And as soon as it began, the Lente is gone, and, I can deal with that.

Sit back and enjoy the Lente.

Narrative: “Dr. Irisine, line 1,” the loudspeaker boomed through the successful plastic surgery clinic. Dr. Irisine’s heels clicked along the linoleum with purpose. He swung into room 302 lightly on the heels of his supple lambskin shoes. “I am not going to honeysuckle you, this is bad, but nothing that I can’t fix,” he sincerely stated as he looked over his patient’s collapsed mandible. “Now listen, bedside manner is not my strong suit, but, I have seen industrial acid injuries worse than this, a little lye to the face is a walk in the park these days.” Within hours, the consent forms were signed and the patient was lying in a supine position under Dr. Irisine’s skillful care. The face took the acidity hard. It looked like a morbid Gushers commerical, but Dr. Irisine was the best around. His debonair scalpel and suction hose clipped left and right with compunction, excising away the destroyed teeth and gumline. Several hazy hours later, the patient woke up to see Dr. Irisine sucking on a lemon rind while gazing out the window. “Don’t try to speak. However, ponder this for me, what is it about life that condemns some gallant men to suffer horrible acid burns to the mouth and others to enjoy the sweet succor of its fruits?” he dropped the rind on the windowsill and flicked a drop of lemon juice onto the EKG. “Well my dear patient, when life hands you lemons-” he trailed off, spit out a seed and began to whistle the Andy Griffith theme song as he exited the plastic surgery ward.

0

Dogfish Head, Sahtea, Spiced Ale 9% abv

|
Dogfish Head Sahtea

Time for some exotic Autumn Love. Autumn All Non-Gregorian Steeze.

This is not Sahtea, so now you know which bottle not to purchase. Deal with it.

Autumn week has been fun, after it’s over, you have to drink like a normal alcoholic. Enjoy this final respite free of maple leaf judgment.

Sahtea, Dogfish Head, 9% ABV, spiced ale/Sahti

A: This is murky orange with some yellowing at the edge, no head to speak of, middle body carbonation throughout with small bubbles. Oh wait, you say that’s not descriptive enough? How about you imagine William H. Macy in front of a warm hearth? No? Fine, some mild murkiness like the inevitable job application from an ex-con.

S: Lots of cinnamon, tea, juniper, with an overrriding smell of nutmeg. It’s like a swedish chef spilled a crazy splash into the kettle. It is bizarre but interesting, like John Stamos’s IMDB, you just cant look away.

This is how I felt after I actually tasted this spicetrap.

T: Go bite into a piece of pumpkin pie and chase it with a refined gin, now we are on the same level. This has a bizarre sweetness that tastes like holiday treats, pumpkin, yams, cinnamon, but then a strangely hollow sweetness to it that feels like a synthetic sweetner. It is not bad, but it is difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t had an autumnal festival all up in their dome piece.

M: The taste is surprisingly thin for all of the leaves falling and equinox shift that is taking place. Not a lot of coating just a wafting sweetness that lingers like a poltergeist, haunting your mouth with sweet aparitions. HAS YOUR MOUTH EVEN BEEN SLAMMED BY A PUMPKIN GHOST? Well now it has.

Curl Up to a Nice Movie With Your Pumpkin Ghost.

D: This is not a very drinkable beer. I didn’t find myself wishing for more of it, more than anything it was fun to try and explain the experience to someone. It felt a little bit like Samhain, in liquid form. I can see this beer having a place around a certain season, I just cant think which one, the pumpkin and candy notes make it difficult to place.

I paid $20 for this at a bar, and was all like-

Narrative: Papers, TPS reports, zoning regulations: WHO THOUGHT THAT BEING THE PUMPKIN KING WOULD BE SO MUCH WORK. You didn’t ask for this, being the dauphin of several regal seasonal bloodlines, but yet here you are, in your ostentacious orange house, your burnt yellow desk, sipping on eggnog wondering where it all went wrong. Well I guess Pumpkinonia could have used more regulation of its chief export, rubber, but who are you to interfere with the Pumpkinonian’s laize faire commercial structure? The seed tarrifs, the middle road tolls, cleaning up constant pumpkin guts from the country side was just far more than you bargained for. Then the sweet juniper potion starts to call your name, you are a flawed ruler, to be sure, but who can fault the Pumpkin King for being a raging alcoholic. After all, you smell like a warmed over holiday party 364 days out of the year, but on Flag Day you rest. DING, time to take the PUMPKIN PIE OUT OF THE OVE- BANG!

0

Lost Abbey Framboise De Amarosa, Farmboise De Omarosa be too crazy.

|

Framboise Never Had It So Good

Framboise de Amarosa, American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

A: There are deep ruby hues with some nice light carbonation and light red lacing. It’s like Hypnotiq’s baller ass raspberry flavor to be all sipping on while you’re cruising in your triple black Challenger.

S: The smell presents an intense cranberry and acidic dryness with raspberry on the nose. The oak is present in the smell and it is has a juicy wine profile to it. It’s like Andre Rose Champagne but with leather seats and a cutty ass Gucci interior.

T: The taste is incredibly drying with incredibly tart raspberry notes. This might be the driest and also the most tart american wild ale that I have ever had. The juiciness was present but largely the dryness wipes out the gumline and presents a huge intimidating bouquet of berries and crispness. The acidity is crazy and stings like an atomic warhead.

M: Again, there is an intense, huge crisp dryness. The mouthfeel seems like it’s an intense merlot with oak to round it out. It’s tough to determine exactly how thin or thick this beer is because the coating is so acrimonious. IT’S SUCH A DEEP BURN, OHHH DEEP SQUATS WITH SICK BOUNCING BETTIES, SICK DEAD LIFT FINISH BROMOROSA.

D: This is an incredible experience with crazy highs and low to it. This is not a figure of balance, nor does it do anything in moderation. It is impossible not to recommend this exceptional beer to others. Clearly, it is not meant to be enjoyed as a sesssion beer and should be treated accordingly. The taste is so amazing that it is hard to knock it for adhering to a certain style so well. Overall it is incredibly bitter and juicy and I am left wanting more.

Narrative: The train of her ostentatious gown dragged upon the split staircase with wanton disregard for anyone walking near her. After all, there were plenty of tailors within her Parlor and weekly soirees that would readily repair any damage. Somehow Countess Brioche sought more than just the exploitation of the endearing faces of the working classes. She sought their unending love. Notwithstanding, her acerbic parents brought her up to speak her mind truthfully and freely at all times, no matter how scathing. “Oh-oh-oh!” The Duchess of Piedmont fell down two stairs to her knees upon the rich velvet of Countess Briochess’s train. “Your steps lack precision due to the mass pressed upon them.” Mme. Brioche commented and felt a slight pang at her ejaculation. It wasn’t fair to cut others so deeply with such a bitter acerbic purity. Somehow, in this acidic repartee, others saw themselves, and their own shortcomings, despite the caustic burns they received. Countess Brioche looked upon a bustling courtyard of servants who despised her, but respected her stinging candor.

0

Shipyard, Pumpkin Head, 5% abv

|
Shipyard doing it, mid-range.

All Hail the Pumpkin King

Alright, Autumn week continues with all its autumnal splendor. Give Gramma a kiss for me.

Shipyard Pumpkinhead, Pumpkin Ale, 5% abv

A: Mellow gold with absolute transparency, nice fizzy carbonation that dissipates immediately. It appears like apple juice through and through.

S: The nose is easily the best part of this beer, it is like having your face smashed in a jack o lantern full of cinnamon. There’s a bit of clove and nutmeg and a honey finish. Reminds me of lovingly pushing elderly people into piles of leaves. Oh autumn.

T: The taste is similar to the nose but more watery and muted. It has a nice sweet introduction and a cornbread sweetness with a nice pumpkin pie finish. Nothing to complain about here, it is exactly as represented.

M: This is about as thin as an adjunct lager. However, the mouthfeel doesn’t feel like an adjunct lager, it feels like there was actually some legit pumpkins up in the mix during the mashing. However, the watery finish almost commands a 6 pack serving size. I can barely finish this review and it is already almost gone.

D: See infra. This is crisp, light little adjunct lagery pumpkin ale that has a limited arsenal of parlor tricks. It isn’t bad by any means, it is just limited in scope. I will say, however, that my girlfriend and my dog thoroughly enjoyed it.

Narrative: Not all mutants end up as super heroes. That is a grave misconception that is entertained by lovers of lore and those who deny simple medical facts. “Well this isn’t easy for me to say this to you Skylar, so I will just say it,” Dr. Tabby wiped his glasses on his jacket and hesitated for a moment. “your orbital and suture bones have, well they-” Skylar shifted on the wax paper and leaned forward intently, “GOD DAMNIT! YOUR HEAD IS A PUMPKIN! IT’s just…pumpkin. I am so sorry.” Skyler notted his massive produce cranial reflectively. Deep down he always knew it would come to this, a mild concussion at Le Crosse practice and then the old “your head is actually a pumpkin” speech. “Save your MEDICAL JARGON DOCTOR, just, tell me, am I gonna make it?” Doctor Tabby smiled a wry smile and stated softly “with great power comes great responsibility my boy” and he nodded enticingly. “Yes, but, my skull, a good part of my skull has become a pumpkin, I mean how do I deal with this in my life?” “Ah, I see what you are saying: ‘I have a massive pumpkin head, do I use this for good or evil?’” “No that’s not at all what I was asking, am I in danger, can I die from thi-” Dr. Tabby folded his arms behind his back and looked out the window onto the elementary school, strangely placed next door. “You see those children, there Skylar? Each a normal child with a perfectly normal bone skull. Not a single one of them extraordinary in any way, that is to say, not a pumpkin cranium amongst the lot.” Skylar shed a single pumpkin tear that dripped a viscous orange liquid to his lapel. “I KNOW WHAT I MUST DO!” Skylar declared, jumping up to action, and, the subsequent police report brought many a smile to the local children and horror to the faces of produce farmers alike in the tri-state area.

0

Surly Darkness, 10.3% Imperial Stout, Charlie Murphy: DARKNESS

|

It's like Baudelaire hooking up with Minnie Mouse, so dark, so dirty.

What perfect beer for the day after Halloween, DIA DE LOS MUERTOS, than Darkness, an inherently evil stout

Surly, 2010 Darkness, Imperial Stout, 10.3% abv

A: This has a deep black, 1970’s exploitation film sort of darkness to it. There is a bit of shiny resplendence but it is as inky as a frightened squid through and through. It lives up to its name, dark as satan’s magic, like post-Milton Satan, really dark. Also the carbonation is like 5% tint baller, thick, and mocha.

S: It has the smell of deep dark melted raisins, melted dark chocolate, roasted coffee, figs and a vanilla sweetness. It’s like that movie Problem Child, sweet, but dark and disturbing at the same time.

T: This beer has a fantastic sweetness at the outset similar to maple syrup with cocoa and chocolate tastes throughout. The alcohol is well hidden and presents a nice oakiness on the finish. It’s like being whipped with black licorice, but at a pagan Steinbeck festival, deep, sweet, and bothersome.

M: The mouthfeel has a great maltiness and depth that just delivers on so many levels. It coats initially like Behr paint, the nursery mocha color of negligent parents. It lingers when you cleanse the palate and gives a nice tobacco taste. It’s like kissing the smoky old chocolate mixer at the Godiva factory, with his sweet Guatemalan mouth.

D: This is thick, rich, and dark; the Lamar Odom of the stout world. While in most instances, a beer this ambitious suffers but, I have a tough time knocking this because the sweetness is there, the coffee is there, and it washes away clean. This tawdry barista is good for the long haul.

Narrative: “Dear Warren, I have longingly written to you every day, please, just let me know if the flame, that burned so brightly when we embraced each other underneath the Bakersfield moonlight at the water park, still smolders within your breast.” The rain pounded the window sill and Kaitlyn cried soft alligator tears that rolled down her cheeks and the Energy Star windows of her track home. The winters in Bakersfield had a biting cold that was paralleled only by the winter wonderland that was Stockton. “Dear Kaitlyn, I am not sure if our summer romance was a fleeting apparition in your mind, but I still think back to the warm buzzing of the Kern County air, and coughing mildly at the humidity and pollution. I still miss the sweet taste of your Dr. Pepper chaptick. My letters go unanswered, please answer me sweet muse.” Barreling down the streets of California avenue was a Post Service truck painted matte black, its occupant maintained a hateful twisted smile. Bags and bags of correspondence were ignited before the authorities caught onto his exploits. The Dark Courier knew no boundaries. “Dear Kaitlynn, I heard of a tragic fire in Bakersfield and double homicide on Cedar ave, near our favorite water park, please respond to let me know that all is well.”

0

The Bruery, 100% Bourbon Barrel Aged Autumn Maple, 13% abv

|
Autumn Never Seemed so Good

This is Autumn for People Escaping Autumns Past.

Happy Halloween, enjoy this homage to coping with fall.

The Bruery 100% Bourbon Barrel Aged Autumn Maple, Brown Ale/Vegetable Beer 13% abv.

A: This beer has a creamy deep amber tone to it with some delicate lacing that is frothing and tiny. Just like the polluted Ohio river that you enjoyed so much as a child. The carbonation maintains throughout and generates some nice sticky lacing. It makes one abundantly thankful, ba dum tish.

S: This beer has to have been made by Willy Wonka, in summation, the schnozberries smell, well you know. This is pumpkin pie in a glass. I am not being glib, this is seriously like a shot of nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon, coriander, pie crust, biscuity goodness in a glass. I realize this beer is made with yams, but it is intense and overpowering in a good way. At the back end a boozy bourbon note dominates and makes it feel like, the end of Thanksgiving, when people say what they feel. You know, that part of Thanksgiving. Oh Nana.

T: This has a nice frothy maltiness at the outset with pumpkin, yam, and honey tone to it. The oakiness sets in at the back end like a watchful chaperone and nods to the bourbon warmth that rounds things out to a nice warmth. There is a faint hit of vanilla but with all the spices going on, you are lucky to leave with your wallet and your pallet’s dignity.

M: This has a mid-range frothiness that isn’t overly expansive and generates a nice coating. The tastes are so complex that you are left bewildered by the onslaught too much to think about the details. It’s like the screenplay to Inception where there’s just lots of cerebral nonsense taking place and you don’t question the basics.

D: This is hot, sticky, boozy, spicy, and strange: but I want more of it. This is thick, too thick to session but delicious enough to have several servings of. Paradoxes abound when you decide to drink pumpkin pies in a glass. Live on the edge, watch The Perfect Storm by yourself and try not to cry. That kind of shit.

Narrative: At the heart of it, Smilestrine Grimstare was a shitty Grim Reaper. It’s not that he was bad at claiming souls, on an administratively level, he was incredible at collecting and sorting souls. The problem was those damn 3 autumn months that just warmed his black heart. How many times had he showed up at the Thanksgiving dinner with a hateful disposition, ready to rip the life from grandpa, when he smelt that sweet biscuity pumpkin pie. No, Smilestrine was not a heartless reaper, he just loved the holiday’s too much for that. Once his vengeful scepter was about to claim the life of a child in a cancer ward, that pile of leaves was left there almost intentionally. His robe dragged playfully through the maple, pine, and ash landscape, leaving leaf angels in his wake. “Blow out your candles Great Uncle Earl! That’s 103 Halloweens on the face of this Earth!” the family exclaimed as Mr. Grimstare knocked his head back and savored the burnt hickory scents. Death could wait with pies this succulent.