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Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, Three Hour Tour, For People Who Like to Drink Milk Stouts While Shipwrecked

Another 2 liter, draft only adventure? That’s how we do it on this site, always on the grizzy. Anyway, this little gem pops its head up once a month on the top 100 and has consistently solid ratings so what’s a ticker to do, for every thousand I rate, another relative sues. Someone told me that they only filled 50 growlers of this, so guess we have another draft only rarity on our hands. Just another day on this site, I know. A gracious CO local hooked up this MN growler and I gave it the business and was left with a sticky sweet milk stout mustache. Does my body good.

I would need more than just 2 liters of beer if I was going on a Three Hour Tour. Step up your oceanic mariner game, Minnesota.

Three Hour Tour
Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery
Minnesota, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.10% ABV

A: This is going to be a huge shocker, it is a lightly frothy baby stout with wispy carbonation and playful little baby duck carbonation that bobs in the quay. Just look at it, it is too adorable to finish an entire growler of. After taking down 20% beers, a 6% stout feels like something you drink in between racquetball sets or during a crossfit workout. It has dark hues at the center and light mocha at the edges, adorable all around.

This beer reminds you of sweet things from your childhood, only…different…

S: This is sweeeet. Maybe even more “e”‘s are warranted. There’s definitely the lactose element and it comes across as a achingly decadent milk chocolate like those janky chocolate rabbits you get at easter time. Shit gets Cadburry real quick with a mild coconut and vanilla batter aspect. This doesn’t scream stout, it calls out cocoa liqueur.

T: This is light and again, just a diabetic’s worst nightmare, sticky cavity inducing sugars through and through. The sweetness came off as a bit synthetic with this sort of oiliness in the finish that just seemed out of place for a milk stout at 6% abv. You get the chocolate and the Nestle Quik thing going on and the finish is like an Almond Joy that went through the wash, crumpled up in your JNCO jeans.

I find myself questioning the authenticity of the coconut in earnest.

M: This is incredibly light but at the same time spraypaints a line of glucose all the way down your throat so that you aren’t super stoked to take the next shockingly sweet sip. I can handle sweet stouts, I take 50/50 Eclipse to the face like a Brazzer’s video, but when you don’t have a solid malt base to level things out, it comes across like chocolate Kool-Aid with far too many residual sugars. I dislike char in general, but this needed something to level the 6-4 frame out to keep on rolling on those 808 drums.

D: This would be exceptionally drinkable in every aspect if not for the cloying sweetness. You know those was bottles with the juice in them? The juice is great, but you dont need all this pageantry when you just want juice. Similarly, if you stripped out this adjunct coconut aspect, you would have a solid porter, and I would be fine with that. This was just too much for my childish palate and reminded me of Darklord 64.

Tickers be so quick to upload beer complaints. I will upload my beer diploma never.

Narrative: “Dr. Ira? The Kensington boy is waiting for you in bay 4,” the dental technician called and pulled the x-rays for Dr. Ira to review. “God. Damnit,” Ira stated to himself as he looked upon the monochrome disaster. It was like this every 6 months, the tattered enamel looking more porous and similar to a drive by shooting in an MS13 neighborhood. “Well Brayden, I don’t need to tell you anything you don’t know. Have you been using ACT as we discussed?” Brayden folded his arms and wiped a streak of milk chocolate from his stained lips. He looked as though he ate a box of Milk Duds just prior to walking into the office. “Well Brayden, you see, your teeth, you have them for your entire life and that means-” as he continued Brayden pulled out a Fundip and began judiciously applying coats of powdered sugar to his teeth as the fluoride was washing away. “This child has no regard for his dental well being, he cares only for the sweet decadence of mandibular destruction!” Dr. Ira called out in a strangely effusive manner to the other Chatsworth Dental patients.

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Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Just Straight Up Czar Jacking It

This beer is released once a year and only 80 growlers are filled. OH SHIT BRAGGING SESSION COMMENCES. Just kidding, this is another top 100 beer that took me a long time to land and it was well worth it.

People be all like “What you finna do with all that stout, all that stout up in that growl(er)”

DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO, TAKE THIS SHIT TO THE DANGER ZONE.

Nobody reads shit on Saturdays anyway.

If Czar Jack was stuck on a roof, would you help Czar Jack off?

Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Russian Imperial Stout, 9.3% abv

A: The carbonation just cascades in tiny clusters clinging to the center and edges of the glass like that Ewok village when it is night time, little constellations of potential drunk and disorderly charges, a mocha head of “these cuffs are too tight.”

S: Just wow, the smell is like fresh baked fudge, a light boozy aroma like an aunt who has a secret to tell, nice nutty almond dryness and of course a burnt coffee waft closes the deal. Your pants are off and the hotel bill will reflect the shame of your actions, namely drinking an entire growler.

You crack a 64oz growler of this and shit just goes bananas. B A N A N A N A N A N A N A S. That's how you spell bananas.

T: The coffee taste with mild acidity is the first thing that rolls up with an insouciant swagger oh and he brought two hoes with him, bourbon and dutch chocolate. The taste applies a single Sherman Williams coat and then just goes on its merry way, smashing in tastebuds and giving palate HJs on the way down.

M: The mouthfeel is amongst the lightest that I have ever encountered in the world class stout category. It is almost like an imperial porter in how clean and effortlessly this beer works your tongue over. It coats nicely but doesn’t overstay its welcome. This beer is down for a chocolate one night stand and then peaces out, but makes the bed first. I am ok with that.

There was so much hype surrounding this beer I was a skeptical hippo but, well here we are and I am still riding this brewery's jock so hard.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and dangerous for a beer at this ABV level. It doesn’t get all caught up with emotional coffee baggage, or talk about its daddy chocolate issues. This shit is just down to bang your palate and just be a super chill ryde or die stout. I want more of it, but I heard about their new procedure for landing Czar jack and it sounds fucking hellish lotteries, local rewards, club cards and shit. So this may be the final growler that I enjoy of this elusive potation. BUT THEN AGAIN MAYBE SHE WEEEIIILLLLL.

At first I was excited for 2 liters of this beer, then I was like-

Narrative: Chancellor Billingsley was a charitable man, but in a strange, offputting manner. He has a zest for philanthropy, but in what amounted to a purely hateful manner. “Regis, please assemble the equipage of the 14 stallion carriage, I would like to donate sums to the mealymouthed masses.” He strode sternly to the awaiting carriage and sat sumptuously upon the Gala Coupe` with a large sack of heavy Spanish doubloons. “Now bring the trot to an idle speed-” he said as he cocked his arm back towards the throngs of commoners descending upon his carriage. “AND HERE IS YOUR MONTH’S RENT!” he called as a cast a weighty solid gold coin cascading directly to the temple of an alms seeker with her threadbare hands outstretched. “You see Regis, without the loss of consciousness, they would never embrace the blessing I am bestowing upon them, it takes a complete debilitating blow to show them the honor and glory of my fugue.” One child was seen both simultaneously crying and cheering with a bruised imprint of Queen Isabella knocked deeply into his epidermis.

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Minnesota Town Hall Masala Mama IPA, Mama Beats Me With Hops.

Masala Mama was an abusive mother. Also, she lived in a shoe.

Masala Mama, Minnesota Town Hall, IPA, 5.9%

A: This has a great amber to dark yellow character to it, almost making it appear like a pale ale at first. There is great carbonation despite a 5 day old growler. The lacing is relentless and obfuscates the rim of the glass.

I know this is on draft only, let's all calm down. I have this under control.

S: There are nice honey notes and a pleasant grassiness to it. It has a noteworthy, welcoming malty body to it for a beer this low in ABV. Overall, very inviting and floral.

T: There is some light sweetness at the outset with nice use of caramel notes that subsides into mild drying and slight orange peel finish. The taste comes and goes incredibly quickly and you hardly have time to contemplate it before it is gone. There is a slight juniper taste that finishes with an awesome crispness. It offers huge hops and low abv that assaults your conscience after you finish 64oz to yourself, AND IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN. Come on now.

I would like to try and joke about this amazing beer, but I can't just grin and beer it.

M: The carbonation on this is great and makes up for the strange maltiness of the beer. It certainly puts on airs and presents itself as a big boy when deep down it has ABV envy. Nice sweetness that lingers for just a bit and then demands to be tasted again.

D: Just incredibly drinkable from start to finish. This isn’t quite on the Live Oak level, but it still is a stunner in many aspects. You could give this beer to anyone and the hops are happily married to the caramel stickiness, so even diabetic PJ, the kid with the lazy eye, even he would enjoy this beer. I wish that this beer wasn’t so far away. I feel like a prison convict longing for it and another sweet conjugal visit, in my mouth. Wait, that didn’t sound-

Some pundits argue that this beer isn't worth the hype, to them, please see the above ironclad argument.

Narrative: “And according to the most recent census, you have…7 children…is that correct?” “Mmm yais.” the mucky little creatures ran to and fro within the 2 bedroom apartment. The ashtrays were in abundance and overflowing, pets seemed to maintain tenancy in common with the owners, and maintained the home with equal diligence. “And you…you don’t have any of them go to school?” “Eh…no….nooo….” Mother Masalita looked left and right longing for some sort of respite from the relentless questioning of the children services officer. “Wait now, what’s this here?” he pushed a panel on a dilapidated bookcase which revealed a room of radiant light and floral aromas. “Ohh, an indoor cannabis crop?” “eh no…es a secret room…secret.” he entered the tiny room and ducked covering his eyes to the shimmering light. The entire antechamber smelled of bluebell and fresh pastries, there were baking goods and an incredible garden. What appeared to be a negligent household defied all expectations. It was a complex front for a completely calming, loving place that embraced entrants like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. “Well…that…that will be all I guess,” he clicked his pen and picked a rhododendron from one of the pots on his way out. Mama Masalita was one hell of an indoor botanist.