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.”