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Stone Imperial Russian Stout, 2009 vintage 10.5% abv

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Russian Stoner

Russian Imperialist at its Finest

A:  It has a welcoming midnight pitch to it, inky, but that sort of oiliness like a junior 
year night where there is a promise of either disaster or complete fulfillment. YOU KNOW.  
Also, some khaki spider webbing and no middle carbonation to speak of.

S:  The coffee and burnt notes from the 2011 is absent in the 2009, this one is more chocolate
 with an incredibly integrated bourbon.  It feels like the way alcoholism is perfectly integrated
 into an undergrad experience but you enjoy every moment of the fulfilling moments. 
 The nose is like a cuvee of Black Tuesday and Chocolate Rain, and I cannot overstate how well 
this beer ages.  Take your $5.99 per bottle, buy a case, and leave it alone.  Seriously.

T:  The chocolate is just fantastic, it comes through like a highbrow ferrero roche with the 
almond and smoked notes lingering just long enough like a Carnival Cruise host, but enough time 
alone to get wasted in private.  The finish has a great coffee stickiness to it.  This just gets 
better and better the warmer that it gets. 
If I had a time machine I wou- “BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THE OTHER THINGS YOU COULD DO” no, 
interloper, this would be first order of business.  Second order of business would be to beat
 all the endings of Chrono Trigger upon initial release.

M:  It isn’t overly oppressive, it coats nicely and leaves a silkiness similar to breakfast stouts
 but without the oats residue.  It is worth the hype and it is frustrating how cheap and accessible 
this stout is.  Why even drink other things?  This is essentially the Sculpin of imperial stouts and
 it deserves every accolade.

D:  Despite the heavy style and abv, I love this stout.  You could turn nay sayers into believers if 
only for a moment.  It simply is more chocolate and candy than stout.  I usually like to fight for
 an underdog but, it is clear that this beer needs no support, it is the reigning champion for a reason. 
 Go forth and witness the masses with this beer.

Narrative:  “Well Jim, they say his fencing style is completely unorthodox” “I agree, we have heard of 
epee’s but using a full on broadsword just seems a bit excessive for the sport!”  The crowd watched on
 as Svardson deftly bounced on the balls of his feet and parried the advances of his opponents with flair
 and skilled bravado.  “Oh my, I have never seen a blade shattered, much less followed by a half gainer, 
this is hardly within the skill manual”  Svardson wore a pitch black fencing uniform and continued to defy
 tradition.  The match was his, he spiked his massive blade into the foam tournament floor and clapped his
 hands together, showering the masses with cocoa nibs.  It was truly a majestic demonstration of the sweet 
and swift blade.
1

The Bruery Pinotlambicus, 8.2% abv

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Tart like grammy

Pinot is all juiced up.

Pinotlambicus, the Bruery, Wild Ale/Sour, 8.2% abv

A:  This beer looks like an Arnold palmer with a murky dull yellow/light brown.  
There is absolutely no lacing and no carbonation except for some wispy middle bubbles.  
It appears similar to a cider and just looks reticent to get all dolled up for the drinker.

S:  The nose gives smells of funk, and very light citrus.  
It doesn’t really have much vitus in this vitus series.  
There’s definitely some green grapes and lemon zest but, nothing too amazing.

T:  The taste has a bit of a prickly taste to it with tart white wine notes. 
 It is not overly drying or overly crisp.  There’s some mild carpety finishing notes that may be some acetyl 
business going on but it isn’t a big enough carpet business to warrant filing with the state.  
It really isn’t that complex but it is pretty good, not amazing.

M:  The mouthfeel is very thin similar to a light wit bier or a Belgian blonde base. 
 It is not overly coating and it doesn’t dry too much.  The mouthfeel kinda phones it in,
 imparts the tartness and then quickly takes off to handle 
other affairs like giving me diarrhea.  You know, important matters.

D:  This is incredibly drinkable and it would be refreshing around the pool with all the girlfriends.  
Plus the crispness wont leave you bloated so you can fit into that Marciano dress you just bought.  
It is a bit too funky and tart to have a place in colder weather but it would be a sick brew 
at Havasu when things get all gnar gnar on the cutty boats.

Narrative:  “Hey Coco?” the light from the upstairs shone down into the basement 
where Mike Washington’s secret resided.  He walked down holding a bundle of green
 grapes shaking them alluringly about the habitat that he had crudely constructed. 
“Cocooooo, dinner time!” suddenly a rubicund little koala scampered down the silk 
tree and snatched the fresh concord grapes from Mike’s hand. “Omm nom nom ommm nommm…” 
the crude little koala gnashed and smashed the grapes sending skins and juice flying
 pell mell. “Who would believe them if I told them, that I had an alcoholic little 
koala in my basement. No one, that’s who, you idiot Mike.”  
He shook his head and poured a small amount of Bordeaux into Coco’s bowl and watched 
him lap it up hungrily.  
Coco’s coat was stained with smashed grapes, tannins, and splashed wine.  He looked 
like a homeless koala with an affinity for Charles Shaw, but Mike loved him all the same.  
Besides, a filthy grape addicted koala was just what he needed to jazz up his otherwise 
mediocre life. “NO COCO! BAD COCO!”  he cried out as Coco began to give the business to 
an old Cabbage Patch doll.  “You’re a marsupial, that’s totally non-canon!”