Alright, we have heard enough about hyped beers that AREN’T worth a reluctant hj, but what about those hyped releases that are downright amazing. The kind that after you have them you go through a moment of clarity and the conflict subsides and you nod your head in cool reverence and renew your subscription to Bang Bus. What about those beers? This is one such beer. I know I grind the testicles of poor flyover states to no end, but this is the real deal Holyfield, now it is only fitting that let tickers and traders know how I feel.
Toppling Goliath Brewing Company
Iowa, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 12.80% ABV
A: This looks akin to most imperial stouts you are accustomed to, with a mocha khaki foam that wisps away with minimal cling, however, I did drink this 300 bottle rarity in a fucking sundae glass so, your mileage might vary if you aren’t a demonstrative prick. The legs are nice and provide a mahogany cling to the glass, it looks viscous and cracks its knuckles menacingly letting you know that shit in and around the field is about to become real.
S: This is the waft that hipsters at Imagine Dragons concerts have nocturnal emissions over. You want that kiwi/cherry/lime leaf acidity from some eastward facing fair trade small batch single roast? Is that how daddy likes it? Daddy wants that french press handle dipping low crushing the fuck out of a deep acidity but balanced by a baker’s chocolate roast. It’s like an olfactory phone sex line for coffee addicts. If you have ever passed on sex to set up a vacuum press batch, then you are the type of deviant asshole who would love this. Just world class on the nose from the roast to the bouquet to the deep maple syrup that lingers like the sustained note of a 3 year old child being denied Skittles. The whole experience is magical.
T: This coats hard from the outset like a renegade Nigerian oil pipeline, sheeting your mouth with chocolate, almond joy dunked in Mrs. Buttersworth, there’s a lovely dryness to the coffee profile that ratchets the sweetness in from hitting those cloying Jodie Sweetin levels. How rude indeed. The sticky battle of roast versus decadent maple is like watching your girlfriend argue with your mom and you don’t know who to support. The whole affair is ambrosial and saturnalian like oral sex on a sack of unroasted coffee beans with your favorite IHOP waitress.
M: This coats hard and even the dryness of the coffee cant be an indian giver in this regard. The Indians are giving that sticky icky hard and tagbacks are disallowed along the gumline. It it like if KBS did blood doping but was a bit less complex. This has sick ropey veins pumping maple syrup with a neglected core that begs for bourbon (or cognac would be even better srs) so it’s hard to fault this for that aspect, but I do what I want, sometimes I feed other people’s meters and dont give a fuck. But it’s hard to give this a perfect score because it seems like it is missing that depth and complexity of the barrel treatment. It’s like what that poor fuck who sits in a base Carrera feels like when he knows there’s no forced induction and it should be there. Sure he just banged the hottest Denny’s waitress in the world, but the maple syrup can’t change that fact. Yes I know KBBS exists, no I am not giving up a CFH/Blabaer/Twisted Spoke/etc. for a 12oz bottle of BA Coffee stout. THAT IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE.
D: This beer is outright amazing, but with its costs and drawbacks. It’s like if you have ever fingered a girl and subsequently found out that she is a squirter, the novelty alone would be incredible, but there is a certain drawback to having to get a Nissan Sentra detailed just because she wanted to be adventurous. Alas, I digress. Yes this is amazing, you will tell your friends about it. You might even relive the experience with them. But at the end of the day, you feel a little dirty knowing that it cost a bit too much and that you probably could have waited and gotten something more meaningful.
Narrative: Scott Wilson didn’t forsee that he would be guidance counseler, in fact, that is the greatest irony of his existence. his father, a doctor, his mother a nobelaureate, and here he was, advising adolescents of their future. “well you certainly need AP Bio…I call that a versatility class…” He sighed under his breath. Even if he was the best at his job, no one would notice. He could direct his students to the perfect universities but never receive a single accolade. Such is the life of a high school administrator. Scott took a deep pull of his thermos and tasted the best cup of coffee that man would ever create. He sighed upon receipt of yet another acceptance letter facsimile from one of his students, a school he never attended, but certainly maintained the ability to embrace. This was not the time to wonder about the past, he would embrace the present knowing that he was perpetually affecting the future. He went home to his microbotanical facility in his basement. He was restricted, withdrawn, so few knew the true genius that he harbored in his calm demeanor. Scott was amazing but the sheer effort it took to reach the depths of his cellar to see his coffee plant/maple tree hybrid was daunting. He popped a budding bean into his mouth and savored the acidity and molasses. “Someday they will see more than just a pile of administrative hassle Scott, someday you will be a household name. THEN WHO WILL IGNORE YOUR MESSAGES ON ZOOSK.COM THEN! NO ONE THAT IS WHO!” he shouted to himself in the basement of his 6br/7ba Iowa home valued at $143,000.00.