Andechser Dopplebock Dunkel, Doppelbock 7.1% abv, Teach Me How to Dunkel.

My neck, my sack, my dopple and my boch.

Oh shit, another top 100 beer? Guess it must be the waxing moon.

Andechser Dopplebock Dunkel, Doppelbock 7.1% abv

A: The beer pours a translucent deep caramel color with a huge amount of carbonation that maintains a generous head and sticks to the sides of the glass. It looks like a root beer float in many ways. Take this to a 6th grade slumber party and you will be the life of the PARTY, and shortly asked to leave.

S: This has a great smell of sweet clove, banana esters, Belgian spice, and mild milk chocolate. The cocoa and dates make it feel like a tame Belgian quad in many ways. It handles your nose like the gentlest of returns cashiers at Target, making sure that you are satisfied through and through.

T: This beer delivers a very mild cocoa front with some clove that melds into a banana and apple sweetness. The whole experience is just tame but understated like the calm poise of a regal mother in law from Connecticut. You know there’s a lot going on there, but it doesn’t get all up in your face about it.

M: The mouthfeel is both creamy and thin at the same time, PARADOXES ABOUND. The actual water seems very hard in that it has a crisp clean finish but the carbonation and slickness coats in a quick way. The drinker is left with a satisfying sheen like when you get out of a gnar gnar moshpit, dirty, yet, cleansed.

D: This beer shines in pulling off a crazy hat trick of imparting a ton of flavor, masking the moderate abv, and washing away incredibly quickly in a refreshing manner. It’s not like bears are MEANT for unicycles, but when you see the two combined, no objections resound. Tl;dr – lots flavor, good drink.

Narrative: :::BRRRVRRRMMMM::: Another full-sized 2.0L Bavarian truck rushed by unnoticing of the small German boy’s plight. Hans Geinlich’s caramel apple stand was not going so well. The modest price of 1 euro was not off-putting, nor was his fashionable marketing strategy of precariously reaching his arm out to motorists passing by. “Und zen, you schould be trying ze apples!” he shouted as a gaudy BMW roared past at 200 km/h. It was the location. He had an amazing caramel apple, sublime even. It was a manifestation of Gluck’s finest symphony within an ambrosial treat, but selling them in a remote stretch of the Autobahn did no one any favors. He once almost caused a 12 car pile up when a driver screeched to a halt to sample his wares, damn near flipping a series of tiny French hatchbacks behind him. “Und zen, zey cink zat I am ze jokes wit ze apples!” he sobbed mournfully and sat on a charred tire. Someday Hans would realize his dreams and create a Bavarian chocolate factory with a marketing gimmic involving golden tickets, but for the time being, it was roadside apple sales for this likeable little Prussian.