@terrapinbeerco Depth Charge, 2009 Coffee Stouts Aging As Gracefully As CBS (Stout and Network)

Aw shit, time to alienate some 2013ers for the umpteenth time on old DDB. If you were around back when Bruery was first banging out BT, back when Dark Lord was a relevant product, back when people still used Blackberry’s and shit: you know this beer. This is an old whale from days past, 2009 Terrapin Depth charge. “What a fantastic idea, reviewing a 6.5% abv milk stout made with coffee” yes. It is a fantastic idea, about as good an idea as reviewing a vanilla stout 3 years after bottling, holleratchaBCBVS.

Midwest pour detected: 22oz into straight crystal.  Decadent as a MyFreecams premium account.

Midwest pour detected: 22oz into straight crystal. Decadent as a MyFreecams premium account.

Formerly brewed at Terrapin Beer Company
Style: Sweet Stout
Athens, Georgia USA
6.5% Abv

Terrapin Midnight Project Brew Two 2009. Sometime around midnight in a city nobody can agree on, the idea for Terrapin and Left Hand to brew a collaboration beer was born. Depth Charge is the second in the series of one-time releases between the two breweries. Be wary of the calm before the storm. This creamy, deeply delicious milk stout will seduce you into submission while the explosion of hand roasted gourmet espresso will blow you into next week. We Shall Drink in the breweries. We Shall Drink in the pubs, We Shall Drink the the comfort of our homes. We Shall Never Surrender.

A: This is still a beautiful lil mocha beauty out of the gates, sea biscuiting that foam all over the place. I had to be careful, using a $200 glass and all, so maybe I didn’t go as aggro on the pour as I should have. The carb is substantial and the residual malts lace the glass with sticky webbing like your keyboard after an 8th grade sick day. The thin mocha brown texture spills out like the guts of a Magic 8 Ball after you smash it on a misbehaving chlid’s forehead, but darker and inkier, deep black in execution but a shimmering lake at night pallor to it. Jason Voorhees is about to pop up out this bitch in the final 3 minutes.

Sometimes you must seek the future to understand the past.  Drinking old coffee stouts is not one such time.

Sometimes you must seek the future to understand the past. Drinking old coffee stouts is not one such time.

S: The coffee, shockingly, seems to have faded over the 4 years in captivity. There is still this pleasant residual sweetness in the waft that reminds me of a halfway house between boring ass/refreshing irish dry and a full on oatmeal stout. It isn’t quite as sweet as the framework for a milk/sweet stout would make you reach for, and this is a good thing given the fact that the coffee is no longer around to keep things in check. There’s a certain lactose aspect and a saccharine waft to it, and this faded roastiness like a lingering receipt from a strip club; memories of boners past.

T: This is exceedingly thin and sticky sweet in execution. There is an initial taste of light acidic roast that gets your hopes up, then the mochafrap team rolls in with a watery milky whip to close out your dreams. If you have ever had those thin espresso drinks from Illy, you know exactly what this tastes like. This is a light affair, you can sip it casually while being read your rights, nodding in calm repose, morning beverage in hand while they execute the search warrant. There is a lingering sweetness that is like stevia mixed with Hershey’s syrup that is actually more refreshing than it is complex, like basically any Channing Tatum movie.



M: This is incredibly thin and washes the inside of your mouth with a limp wristed mocha sweetness and then ducks out. You can smash this and chain combo these bitches up into the 2 bomber range no problem. KKKKKKILLER COMBO straight Glacius style on the coffee mocha tip. This isn’t free trade shade grown cold brew 49th parallel shit. This is just thin, normal, espresso from a gas station in a nice part of town with a splash of smashed up kit kats mixed in, for the discerning trucker. It is good if not a bit too sweet. I get it, the coffee faded, it’s different now. We all need to move on. I will never be your ex boyfriend and this beer cant be uncoffeed ok. The past is the past, I know how he satisfied you, let’s just drink this stout and not talk about his girth.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and loses a bit on the complexity as a result. No 6.5% stout is really gonna be some Dostoyevsky affair of introspection anyway, unless its a Funky Buddha offering that has been adjuncted into the fucking ground. Should you give up massive whales for this limited/extinct beer? I don’t know, how much do you care about ticks? I gave up 5 bottles for faded ass RUSSIAN RIVER DEPURATION so maybe you aren’t asking the right fucking person. Open this up at Magic City and watch them red bottoms clack clack in Georgian opulence.

Soometimes you must revisit the past, to taste something again, FOR THE FIRST TIME

Soometimes you must revisit the past, to taste something again, FOR THE FIRST TIME

Narrative: South Dakota was not a bustling hub of progressive gourmands. The State Fair usually offered the newest innovations in deep frying and small plating, most recently deep fried Squeezits, a commodity still on the shelves in old S to the D. A bold enterprise took form in Pierre in the form of small batch single pourovers blended with Macadamia milk. The populace with tucked in flannel shirts and gun racks was not accustomed to seeing $7.00 craft coffee beverages, but the future approached them with a startling alacrity. Pierre Jieusseps cared not for the local plebs and their affinity for Monster energy drinks, his was a plan of purpose aimed at touching the rural hearts and minds of South Dakotans. “Right, but I jes want like, coffee, like, in a pot you know, not these drink made for fa-” one local resident complained as the steam gushed and the hopper tilled beans at $22.00/half pound. Pierre served the decadent 4oz beverage and read the order ticket “KOOTER! Your single press, 2 minute, slow grind, cold brew is now ready!” A sunburned man in a Godsmack t-shirt bewilderedly grabbed his tiny beverage and headed to his child custody hearing.


@hillfarmstead Double Barrel Damon, Putting Damons on my Damons Even My Damons Got Damons so you can Damon while you Damon

What do you get when you take regular ass world class DAMON and then pump up the jams with a SECOND FUCKING BARREL. Tickers lose their shit, that’s what.

Alright, so 50 people got these in the collected works and then….no one reviewed it. Alright a few people did, but it was conspicuously absent from review sites until the big release went down 6 weeks ago, resulting in pages upon pages of fanfare, butthurt, conspiracies, and other things attendant with beer releases these days. When the dust settled, we were left with a 189 (?) bottle, $35 release. The DoWant pulsing hard in them lower abs.

I think it is safe to say that this beer was the most sought out and anticipated beer release in the past year from Hill Farmstead, but how does it stack up to the already-stellar Damon? You can’t get more than one rock hard boner, there’s like, no such thing as a double boner. Right? Anyway, let’s get up in the guts and see if all the crestfallen tickers listening to Evanescence have reason to mourn their inability to tick this elusive beast.

Black hat, black shades, double barrel black stouts, oh behave.

Black hat, black shades, double barrel black stouts, oh behave.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This sits and languishes out of the bottle like cajoling a second grader to get ready for school. There is a certain tempestuousness to the light crackle of mocha foam that quickly subsides and sits down to eat its cocoa puffs, unconcerned with learning cursive or long division. The lacing is insubstantial likely due to the generous sheeting on the glass that lets you know that this beer did hard time in the barrel SHU, carving wood shivs, plotting revenge. I will say, I miss the coats and coats of wax like on the previous version of Damon, but if you lay this down without trying it, you probably don’t deserve this beer in the first place. The picture above might not make sense since most of the one other time I have seen a picture of this beer it has been a 50ml medical dosage, the legit pour evidences the sheer power and menacing stature that this bete noir imparts indefatigably.

There are two very pronounced aspects to this beer, I wont blame you if you can only focus on one.

There are two very pronounced aspects to this beer, I wont blame you if you can only focus on one.

S: This is easily the most complicated olfactory profile that HF has produced this side of MC2. I will attempt to pull apart these strata of eros, this is a complicated moshpit of aromas and chocolatey decadence. The first thing that stands out is a deep red wine tannic profile like an oaky merlot that is buttressed by that expensive ass 82% cacao at the register at Whole Foods. You get a light char but the affair leans more to the sweeter side of things, like a halfway house in between MC1 and MC2, more decadent than the former but not as substantial as the latter. The bourbon seems to be the relief pitcher not the closer, providing a fleeting vanilla aspect. The port seems unquestionably the dominant force in this Romulus Remus cagematch, which is great considering the premium placed on landing this over Bourbon Damon.

T: The olfactory was hard enough to convey and the cascading tastes elbowdrop off the high ropes like Summer Slam. At the outset is a red grape dryness cum de tannic tartness, but the chocolatey Pinkerton gang starts cracking heads shortly, only to be whisked away by a very light bourbon/coconut/oakiness. If you have ever listened to The Locusts and been blown away with a swift 30 second barrage of tastes, you will understand how difficult this is to convey accurately. The wine/port aspects again seem to dominate the roasty/chocolatey/bourbon aspects, but it’s more of a 70/30 co-dominance with oakiness being the underpinnings to the undulating flavors. You can’t really be doing shit else if you want to capture all the aspects of this beer because if you have this too cold or while watching Duck Dynasty, you might zone out and miss the delicate profiles that you shelled out so much to try. It’s like renting a $3,000 escort when you have the flu, save it for when you can reach full completion.

Follow your dreams: if you want a DBD, don't give up.  Keep offerings that same bottle of Huna.  Just takes the right set of eyes, dream big, never hurts to ask rite

Follow your dreams: if you want a DBD, don’t give up. Keep offerings that same bottle of Huna. Just takes the right set of eyes, dream big, never hurts to ask rite

M: This is lighter than Damon and the dryness from the oak character seems to underscore this trait. This is no underattenuated/brownie batter fest, the beer has been massaged into post-menopausal refinement with that port dryness along the gumline and the bourbon wafts tossing up barricades along the bittering zones. Personally, I felt that the competition between the two elements was dissonant almost and preferred the straightforward Bourbon Damon execution in this regard, but I have a short attention span and hate nice things. I eat Kid Cuisines and subscribe to Esquire magazine.

D: Given the foregoing complexity, you take drinks faster and try to dial in what is going on but it takes a solid 5oz just to figure out what goes where. Also, this beer completely changes over the course of 10 degrees so if you like that bourbon roastiness at 55 degrees, wait until you hit low 60s and that port starts stretching its lazy Portugese legs all over your Z Gallerie couch, gurgling out that sonorous language of tannins and Cabernet exploits. It is a shame that this is offered in a small format as it really evolves in temps and in between drinks, something that may be lost on the traditional 32 person .5 oz ballers so common in modern parlance. This is a drastically different beer than Bourbon Damon, more refined, it subscribes to Dupont Registry and Cigar Afficionado and has little in common with brash Derk Lerd plebians. To some, that will be offputting. If you like an adjunct fuck fest with chiles and vanilla beans and scorching bourbon character, don’t worry: Goose Island drops their new shit this month.

Open this at a bottle share, tickers be rolling to your table like "wantapourofthisNewGlarussssss"

Open this at a bottle share, tickers be rolling to your table like “wantapourofthisNewGlarussssss”

Narrative: It was a duplicitous life that Damonick led. By day he was Dom, a prim and proper horticulturist advising local agrarians on a litany of nuanced subjects: soil temp, nitrate fixation, turgor pressure. By night he was Nick, a decadent MDMA using throat in a local post hardcore band. He lived a relentless life and almost never slept. It was this duality that allowed him to live twice the lives that normal people would embrace. One Tuesday night Nuck skulled several bottles of Scarecrow Cab and woke up at 6am with burgundy red teeth and a searing headache, much to Dom’s chagrin. It was a rough, complicated life full of multifaceted fulfillment. Some would counsel Damonick and plead with him to give up the rough hewn night life full of debauchery and bacchanalian exploits, but to do so would be to debase Damonick into a simpler entity. It was the complexity and robust lifestyle that Damonick sought most heartily, that was one thing he couldn’t expect a one-dimensional personality to apprehend.


@tiredhandsbeer Artisnale Oyster Stout brewed with Escargot shells, THIS IS MAKING MY SNAIL COME OUT OF ITS SHELL

Alright stay with me here, I know this is a little crazy, oyster stout brewed with snail shells? I guess I should preface this entire review by saying 1) I don’t like oyster stouts in general and 2) I don’t eat snails, unless I am in a third world country and I am doing it for the lulz to show them I am just like thems. That being said, I will skull any beer and have zero regrets, well ok maybe SOME REGRETS.

But let’s bust these shells wide open and suck out the juices in today’s review.

snails poppin slugs at those haterzzz

snails poppin slugs at those haterzzz

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Stout | 7.80% ABV

A: The carbonation on this beer is legendary and even the slightest agitation takes it to pre-menstrual levels of anger. I know it looks like I poured this like an asshole, but srs, I was pediatrician gentle with it and it still was all rustled. The slick “light black” inkiness of the beer seems almost deep brown in a way, compared to most imperial stouts that are darker than Satan’s magic. The head is absurd and straight out of a Juicy J video, all dark and excessive.

if you drink this stout, chances are you aren't a complete piece of shit. Pic related.

if you drink this stout, chances are you aren’t a complete piece of shit. Pic related.

S: This has a really sweet tootsie roll sort of waft to the smell, light roast, baker’s chocolate, and a sort of milk chocolate aspect to it on the nose. The hops are really restrained an almost seem to be well integrated with the char of the malts. I will say at the very back end there is this sort of longshoreman brine meets salts sea captain sort of thing going on that almost reminds me of a jar of nickels. It is not all up in the spotlight but the imperial oyster aspects are in the background, spinning salty jams for everyone to rage to.

T: The foregoing is continued and sustained with a sweetness at the outset that is at first almost offputting like some “imperial” stouts from England where you just lul at them for trying, being all turbinado and sticky. But then out of nowhere off the high ropes fucking brine and this metallic aspect comes in and drops ‘bows and puts the roast in a figure four. You think the ref is gonna call it, but oh shit, the snail shell aspect just smashed him with a folding chair. Things get out of hand really quick, but strangely, I had a hard time putting it down because I was fascinated by it.

if you are drinking imperial oyster stouts, chances are you aren't a complete beta bitch in the permafriend zone. pic related.

if you are drinking imperial oyster stouts, chances are you aren’t a complete beta bitch in the permafriend zone. pic related.

M: This has one of the craziest mouthfeels from a stout that I have experienced in a long time. I am assuming that the inclusion of the escargot shells imparted a huge calcium and alkaline boost to the water profile because the water is super hard in this mix. After you swallow, the sugars dont even linger on your teeth and you get this sort of lip smacking aspect that is strange from a stout. This too reminds me of those UK stouts with a really gentle mouthfeel and dainty carbonation, this paired with the crazy sweet meets salty aspects leave me perplexed and straight draining the bottle.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable with the caveat that you must be able to tolerate some sweetness, hard water, and a light brackishness to your stouts. This might be a deal breaker for most people, but I was intrigued by it and finished this with celerity. For not liking the style itself, I would wager that this is about as awesome as this genre can get while still being on style. It’s like having the world’s fastest hybrid in a way, certain concessions will be inherently present within the confined of the category.

for an 8% beer, you hit this beer and this beer hits back.

for an 8% beer, you hit this beer and this beer hits back.

Narrative: Penelope Brigston slid lazily across the wet concrete and soaked in the misty Seattle morning. The dew from last night gave a nice moisture profile to Vicksburg street and her stomachfoot embraced the pavement with calculating execution. She slowly passed the smashed earthworms, those annelida too ambitious to restrain themselves from walking right into traffic. Penelope felt a small disconnect with the suburban street and thought about all of her taxonomic brethren, such diversity in her family and yet she was alienated from all of them. Hell, she hardly ever wrote to her sea mollusk family anymore and the better part of her days were consumed in either eating fescue or licking Tootsie Roll wrappers. Busy days all around. Her radula worked assiduously tearing apart a discarded piece of romaine lettuce and she savored the metallic taste of the sardines and salt in the dressing. It was a hazy morning but Penelope would face life with both antennae forward, living life out of her shell as much as possible.


Goose Island Bourbon County Vanilla Brand Stout: PART 3 – Revenge of the Midwest Shelfwales

Ah those old 13,000 bottle release shelfwales, they have entered our fair community with panache and aplomb that would make even Balzac blush. This has been a noticeable oversight for quite some time and beer nerds have often asked me why this beer of all the variants was so scornfully cast out of the house like a coffee drinking Latter Day Saint. The simple answer is: this is the worst of the BCBS variants. Now it is still BCBS at heart so that is like saying that the Gallardo is the shittiest lambo; it will still get you some lackluster handjobs. Let’s look at what kinda beans this beer is grinding in today’s review:

Oh shit, the elusive non-standard toaster shot. This is like the BCBVS rookie card up in this mix.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.00% ABV

A: Get ready for some serious Hitchcock twist to this review: IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE BCBS. There are no raw pieces of vanilla or flecks of artisnal beans up in this medium. It is just deep dark murky blackness with minimal lacing, light sheeting and carbonation that phones it in harder than the Miami Dolphins. Not a particularly beautiful beer but, whatever, I AM JUST LOOKING TO LAND A BOOS WITH THIS ALRIGHT.

I feel bad for anyone who drops crazy bottles on this in a trade, you know that feel.

S: This is overridingly sweet, not in that Bruery White Chocolate fashion where you give it a playful shove, like so sweet that you ask it to pull over so you can get out. This has the roast and charming marshmallow meets oak profile with coy little chocolate peeking downstairs at mama bourbon wrapping presents, then holy fuck, Papa Vanilla comes home and starts making declarative statements about how he pays that bills and no one respects him. This is just sweet sticky vanilla extract overload that ends up coming across less like an Oreo/Coffee/Chocolate treat, and more like the lipsmackers lip balm from all those chicks you weren’t making out with in 9th grade.

T: This starts out pretty awesome as BCBS is wont to do, then vanilla jumps with its sweet cloying claws like the T1000 getting dragged behind what would have been a pleasant stout journey to Skynet. There’s a chocolate and coffee presence and vanilla adds this Torani syrup quality like drinks from Starbucks that prevents everyone from getting laid, just beanblocking. This beer seriously makes me just want a regular old BCBS and to leave this sticky sweet interloper out of things, a boy can dream.

This beer tries too hard and ends up coming out as a lesser product as a result. JUST BE YOURSELF BCBS, WE LIKE YOU FOR YOU.

M: This has a generous coating and leaves a deep lingering roast, char, sweet milk chocolate and guess who is riding shotgunning, fucking Vanilla, messing with the radio controls making you listen to Static X and other shit you don’t need or want. I am not saying this is worlds worse than even ::gasp:: BRAMBLE, but what I am saying is that, it would have been better if what makes it so desired was left out. No one is pining after megan Fox because she has toe thumbs, its just something you put up with for the rest of the package.

D: This is less drinkable than every other variant and as it warmed I wish I shared this with someone. Again, this is not a bad beer, it is still BCBS at heart, but you just wish it would cool it with the Baskin Robbins sticky sweet overload. The vanilla is distracting and the types of things that this beer is commanding at this point is downright confusing to me, but then again, toottoot shelfwalez only get more rarerer and not less rare, no walez on the train, mixed metaphor leaving the station. vrroooooom.

Disagree with the midwest cadre about one of their crown jewels? Fuck the police.

Narrative: “Ok here he comes, he’s walking up the drivewa- oh no, his cousin Nigel Beansington is with him, everyone get down get ready to yell surprise!” All of Mark’s friends hid in his small one bedroom apartment and could smell Nigel’s sickeningly sweet DKNY APPLE cologne as he entered the room. “AND SO I TOLD THEM IT WOULD BE OBVIOUS TO YOU THAT THEY WERE PLANNING A SURPRISE PART-” “SURPRISE!” the crowd groaned in unison. Nigel had ruined things again. He was sweet enough and it was hard to fault his blissful ignorance but he just always ended up in places that he did not belong. “Ya see? Told ya, surprise party, obvious right?” Nigel quipped and pushed a finger into the uncut birthday cake and ate a dab of frosting. “EWW BUTTERSCOTCH frosting, what is this a COSTCO, oh KIRKLAND, ya KIRKLAND means Costco cake.” The party universally exhaled and reflected how this overpowering asshole ruined what would have been an incredible affair.


Founder’s Breakfast Stout, In Michigan, You Can Drink Huge Stouts for Firstmeal. It Flies Over There.

Better late than never. Sure you ingrates are accustomed to hearing about brutal beers at 9 a.m. on the reg, but I had to mix it up with some afternoon delight for you, or a nighttime sesh for you East Coast kids. Anyway, I have had this plenty of times and love it a little more on each passing. This photo sucks but I dont feel like going through tons of beer pics to lock down a pic of a glass with black ink in it, just cut me some slack sheesh.

You can try this at home, mix oatmeal, chocolate syrup, Buffalo Trace, and coffee into a smoothie. Sounds legit.

Founder’s Breakfast Stout 8.3% abv

A: This beer has a real gentle coating to it with minimal lacing. It seems to impart the message that, “hey fellas, I will be here for a lil bit, don’t mind me,“ and then resigns itself to a deep cedar blackness, waiting to be beckoned. The oats in the stout gives it a great stickiness and foamy character without excessive carbonation.

Beer for breakfast, just like being a kid again. Or a little bitch, either way.

S: The smell feels like a gentleman’s breakfast: initially you get some nice smoky notes from a bacon or charred grist like you are a yeoman farmer, then comes coffee with a great mild nature, it isn’t that jerk coffee from Surly, this is more understated. The coffee notes are like jokes on Arrested Development. Ultimately, the chocolate notes emerge and as your mouth forms a tight “o”, the Nickelodeon prophecy comes true: COFFEE, BACON, and CHOCOLATE FOR BREAKFAST.

T: except you are an adult and you, hopefully, don’t drink this as your breakfast shake. If you do, don’t let me judge, alas I digress. This has an amazing silky mouthfeel with ::coughsatincough::: chocolate notes upfront nice and nice coffee notes to round it out.

Some kids had Nintendo Cereal, others were fed imperial stouts. Ah, childhood.

M: There is a nice, albeit, mild sticky lacing with great coating and the oats give it this awesome maltiness that makes it a force to be trifled with. Get your trifle on, become trifling. But seriously, this aspect gives old KBS a serious run for his money if only for how pleasant it reclines and makes itself at home. The mouthfeel is like a Shins albums and a warm blanket wrapped around you. It is hella comfy.

D: Let’s just get right down to it. This beer has no abv present that I can detect. Well, lets clarify, it has an incredible warming heat that is just refreshing as the day is long: LET’S CALL TODAY THE VERNAL EQUINOX. Did I mess the season up? Moving o-

Start your day with this beer, see how many bothers you encounter. Post results.

Narrative: Those spelling bees weren’t gonna win themselves. Toshan Doshi knew this deep down. Somehow all those days on the road, the countless flashcards, the endless memorization of root words had taken a toll on his 11 year old, obviously Indian frame. Show after show, there he was, scoring some new obtuse study cards to drill into lines, take into his head and pass out fulfilled. He would wake up each morning feeling more empty than the last. Last night he went hard on some gladiolus and luxuriance and passed out shortly thereafter. But how long could he keep up with this hardcore lifestyle. His manager didn’t care for him, he just propped him up with more vocab lists every night. His publicist just wanted him to win win win. Ultimately old Toshan only had a single friend in this world, a teddy bear named- [deleted advanced 45 minutes] until he recovered his teddy [deleted, fast forward 34 minutes] until he realized he never needed the bear at all [deleted fast forward 14 minutes] and that’s how Toshan won the NATIONAL SPELLING BEE COMPLETELY ON HIS OWN.


Southern Star Buried Hatchet Stout, People in Texas Like Guns, Stars, Stouts, and Hatchets.

Wait what. I know what you are thinking “Texas is too fucking hot to be cranking out stouts, I’m looking at you Jester King.” But hold your horses, this beer comes in a can, so that means you can drill this shit next to the river with your Eliminator tied up after a day of game fishing. Imperial stouts are made for cans, how else are you going to shotgun that shit in the NASCAR parking lot? I am sure the Michigan kids are shaking their heads disdainfully at this enterprise, but let’s see if any fucks can be given to this bold star from the south.

I enjoyed this in between games of beer pong with Bruery’s Run BMC; trying to get the legit Texas vibe for this review.

Southern Star Brewing Company
Texas, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 8.25% ABV

A: deep brown notes with wateriness and tons of small bubbles no lacing. It seems a bit thinner than I was expecting a bit maltiness and coating. Beggars cannot concurrently exist as choosers, as the old children’s fable goes. I am looking in the rest of the can for the imperial, but if I learned anything from Central Waters or Czar Jack, you get get ninjafucked in the mouth by a sneaky stealth stout imparting a mild wateriness.

This reminds me of a certain imperial porter whose name I shall not bring up in mixed company.

S: It maintains a nice chocolate waft with some black licorice, some mild anise, and brown sugar closer. Pretty solid package for something that CAME FROM A CAN. But seriously, I enjoy the mildly watery aspect of this and it doesn’t go overboard on any single aspect, perfectly balanced like a Dan Brown novel.

T: There is a deep maltiness, that coats well with a ton of brown sugar stickiness. It dries a bit early and goes a little watery at the end. Candidly, this was a lot better than I expected. I was judgmental due to the can but it powered through like a solid bro. The chocochariot rolls up on a lightly malty steed and the masses cast garlands of cocoa nibs and coffee beans. However, the chariot is being driven by two dripping wet dudes in scuba gear.

Thin stout, from Texas, from a can. That stout cray.

M: The coating is pretty thin and didn’t support the ambitious profile that the taste profile presented. It reminds me of the time I turbo charged a 94 Ford Probe, it just couldn’t handle the power under the hood/can. As a side note, wow brown walnut and cocoa really makes it hard to nuke this beer altogether but still, the mouthfeel was a disappointment more akin to the porter realm.

D: Given the super thin character, I guess this can be more versatile but that’s akin to downgrading the size of an engine to improve MPG. It is very drinkable but it comes at a cost. Overall, a pretty legit experience, it feels like an Oasis concert. You aren’t mad that you went but it just feels like they phoned it in. I want an iced version of this beer, make it fucking happen Texas.

Despite its calm demeanor, this beer can probably still fuck you up pretty efficiently.

Narrative: Nabeel was the thinnest barista at the local Starbucks. His tiny hands precisely ground and pounded the beans efficiently. Still, his coworkers couldn’t help but notice his prominent cheek bones reflecting the halogen lights. They further couldn’t look away from his apron hanging slackly off of his concave chest. “Mocha Frap double shot no whip, upside down, zebra.” he called out and quickly spun to begin his next order. “Nabeel is like a tiny barista cyborg sent from the India of the past, which is known as our future to revolutionize the coffee serving enterprise as we know it.” one co-worker quipped in a manner oddly profound for a 17 year-old part time employee. What they didn’t know was that Nabeel held a stict vegan diet and supplemented his lifestyle with incredibly strong coffee, which only seemed to accent his thin nature. “BARISTANATOR!” the perfunctory co-worker added, to the uncaring 2 other employees who were far too busy stacking adjectives upon coffee drinks.


Central Waters Brewing Company Satin Solstice Imperial Stout, Smoother than a KMART Print Ad

So if you have been following my reviews, unlikely, you know that I have loved all previous outings with this brewery. The Bourbon Barrel stout and BB Barleywine were awesome, Peruvian Morning was legit, and I am confident that this gentle darkness will deliver. Let’s investigate riparian rights

At Bed Bath and Beyond, satin shit costs more, but it is always worth it.

Central Waters Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 7.50% ABV

A: The pour on this beer looks like a deep cola color but with a really light sheeting and light brown clarity. There’s a certain wateriness to the pour that makes me doubt how legit the imperial aspect of this stout is. At 7.5% I further am stymied as to how big this empire is. Maybe it is like the Portuguese empire, small but a strong aquatic presence.

I mean just look at this beer. Look at it.

S: There is a mild dry cocoa and bakers chocolate aspect to it with wafts of some light coffee and mild acidity. There’s not a ton of complexity here but, like a Rob Schneider movie, you can appreciate the sweet delivery and gentle complexity. You don’t get a wateriness, but it seems like the smell is that hot mormon girl that you want to cajole into dancing, but the wall remains the only caress.

T: The taste is incredibly light and slick. The term watery is almost a pejorative for imperial stouts, but this seems intentional and well done as a result. It imparts a light coffee and and mild chocolate acidity, with a slight tobacco aspect. I want to say that the alcohol is well hidden, but it isn’t exactly rampaging in the first place. The mild and gentle aspect seems like a dad who is super chill and dims the lights when you bring home a girl and goes upstairs. Keeping it classy.

This beer is small, yet humbling, not my favorite of their lineup, but I love them anyway.

M: So this is just beating the bittersweet chocolate horse, but it clearly isn’t some malt monster and the coating isn’t like some Mobil 1 shit. The slick watery quality keeps it in the lightweights and I would say it is almost a venn diagram issue between the stout and imperial stout but the penumbra is pretty delicious. Go google penumbra, don’t worry, I’ll wait.

D: Well where the stout gets its jimmies rustled in the last section it comes out swinging in this section. Not since Czar Jack has a thin stout come out this drinkable and refreshing. No long will you have to hide indoors and ski lodges sipping stouts with dark shame, this one could see the light of day with some girls with platinum blonde hair with black underneath, at home in all circumstances. I would say this is still a strong recommendation and the price tag of $1.89 on the bottle leads me to believe that this is a sick deal, through and through.

I could see a few of these tearing up your house.

Narrative: No narrative today, too eslaypee.


Central Waters Peruvian Morning, No Better Timber Than That Decadent Peruvian Morning Wood

Penis puns. We’ve sank that low. I guess if you divide by zero enough times, you get dick jokes.


Wait until you see what happens Friday night.

Peruvian Morning
Central Waters Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 8.50% ABV

I just have to put this out there, I think I am in love with the IDEA of Wisonsin by their beers alone. If we can forgive Belgian Red and Tart, New Glarus makes mind blowing, arousing beers; Central Waters goes a solid 3 for 3 with this amazing gem. Imagine taking their already exemplary Bourbon Barrel Stout, and aging it on coffee. The result is this sticky icky treat that delivers amazing coating, nice mild bourbon sweetness that comes across like marshmellow and toffee, and finally a vanilla/coffee finish that makes this seem like an acceptable AM beverage.

I have never been to Peru, but if this is what they mash on, then maybe all those rumors about their being a 3rd world country ravaged with poverty and unchecked imperialism ARE NOT ALL TRUE.



Southampton Imperial Russian Stout, Small Bottle Runs for Big Beer Ballers

This brewery has a reputation, at least in my tiny sad existence, for tiny bottle runs, and massive whales. I have been trying to land their ridiculous Berliner Weiss since before it was cool to drink 2% beer, with no success. Here’s my consolation, lucky bottle #229 of all 650 of them. I like my stouts like I like my steaks, MEDIUM. If you thought I was gonna go with “rare” or “well done” that’s low hanging fruit my friends.

I didn't pour it like an asshole, this beer must have PTFD, post traumatic fedex disorder. That's a thing.

Southampton Imperial Russian Stout, 10.5% abv

A: This is about as deep and murky as it gets, T5 levels of blackness on par with Abyss and Hunaphu’s. As you can see above, the carbonation is outrageous in the classic sense of the word: causing outrage. There’s no reason for that much foam unless its the late 90’s and you have some glowsticks. The lacing is like a Baroque armoir, ornate and frilly. After about 5 minutes this excitable asshole settled down and stopped weaving tales about his Fedex journey.

There's something amazing about this beer, and it feels like I am bothering it, but that's fine because I know in its mimicry is a deep strength.

S: This is fairly muted on the palate but got better as it warmed up, like those shy recent divorcees that always order the salad. There’s some chalky chocolate, cocoa, sticky vanilla, and a subtle macaroon. Then, wearing a cape and goggles comes COFFEECOCK to dominate everything at the end. Javatastic COFFEECOCK all over the place.

T: Well if you weren’t on board with Coffeecock from the last section, you can stop now because it just goes deeper in the same vein. That was not a euphemism you sicko. There’s a bitter drying at the outset that fades into a delicious baker’s chocolate like brownie batter, and as expected, coffee, well you saw that coming. I think this is slight underrated and perhaps its the small bottle count that makes people say fuck it, like when I decided I could live without the entire Step by Step DVD box set, I can imagine what happens in Season 3. Cody gets a horse or some shit.

You can cellar this beer for 10 years and you will still be an asshole for not sharing.

M: This beer has a huge sticky coating that lingers well after the first drink. The coating just sticks and does operation grill maker over in short order. The coffee and deep chocolate makes you feel like you were just mashing on some serious bowl licking for hours on end. Don’t act like the foul spatula of indulgence has not soiled your lips.

D: This isn’t exceptionally drinkable unless you have insatiable salivary glands and a post-menopausal rapacity for chocolate. That hits a fairly small niche, maybe the coveted pre-pubescent market is what they were seeking but I am pretty sure 9 year olds dont have Fedex accounts. Or…do…they….

fucking around with a beer this big seems like an inherently bad idea.

Narrative: Baron Southampton was the regal son of Lord August FitzRoy, but the cut of his jib was not unremarkable. He knew that this title was entirely created by his hateful old father as a fading sign of regal power in the days of an expanding merchant class. Just across the channel the barbarous franco-massacre had run the cobblestone streets red with the blood of an oppressive regime, leaving the largely mercantile class staring with despondence at the titled land owners. Baron didn’t give a shit. He spent the majority of his days walking the regal gardens, burying items of value in a spiteful manner to hide them, throwing rocks at the champion hunting dogs, and berating the help for streaking the sterling silver. This dark tiny master hated the opulence that he was subjected to and lashed out accordingly. He wished to be one of the masses and apprentice in a trade, press the rough hands of the working classes and see the Carolinas. Sadly, the common man would never look upon a Southampton, and he knew it. The Southamptons were few but poised, out of reach of the commoners but held just close enough to remind them of their failings. His cousin from Austria Count Berliner Vyass was the most acerbic asshole from his lineage. He did not even allow the proletariate to look upon him at all. They were rare and untouchable, that’s basically the, that’s the jist here, it’s what the underlying narrative is trying to convey, in case you missed it, just tossing you a bone.


Oscar Blues Ten Fidy, for Those Times When just Ten Will Not Do

So amongst that camp that doesn’t seek out crazy rare releases or attend long lines and crazy beer debuts, this is usually mentioned as their whipping boy and constantly brought to battle against the high level Materia from hardcore stout mages. Ultimately, it isn’t a fair fight, but let’s see how this non-BA big boy holds his weight.

Lock Ness Monstah want abotu TEEEEEEIIIN FIDDYYYY.

Oscar Blues Ten Fidy 10.5% abv Imperial Stout

This comes in a can, not sure if that jazzes you up. To finally address the issue, YES, you can age this in a can, for fucks sake can we not have any more threads about this? Fine. Let’s move on.

A: This has a pretty viscous appearance to it with nice coating and sticky mahogany carbonation. However, contrary to what most people think, this is not the most viscous used motor oilesque beer that I have ever seen. Rare, Parabola, Abyss, and particularly Hunapuhs are all thicker and exhibit better coating. That is not to say this beer isn’t as black as Satan’s magic, it is. It has tiny bubbles and isolated dots of lacing.

I dont want to get all 1% on everyone but this is widely available, solid, and enjoyable, but nothing too amazing. It majored in Sociology.

S: There is a bit of coffee and some black licorice. You can smell the roasted malts and a sort of burnt turbinado sugar. The bouquet is a bit flat and unremarkable, pretty standard for the genre and style.

T: It has a huge bitter chocolate sweetness at the outset that subsides into deep chocolate malts and finishes with a drying effect. This is a very solid offering especially for the non-barrel aged crowd that can be seen as so pedestrian. Everyone just shaking their heads, “tisking” to their heart’s desire, knowing that a baller version exists out there.

This beer is good but it is only good, I might kill a kitten to get some barrel aging up in this piece.

M: The mouth feel has a great stickiness that lingers for about 25 seconds after you swallow it. The mouthfeel is thick but not oppressively so. For the huge gravity and alcohol of this beer, it doesn’t come off as overly filling. I enjoy the interplay of sweet and very bitter elements.

D: Strangely, this is a very delicious and drinkable stout, despite its shortcomings in the aroma and taste aspects. This is not a session beer, but the cans make it very versatile and I can finally take a huge thick stout to the beach. All of my dreams finally come true, my tossing a Frisbee around care free, swishing in the tide with stained khaki teeth.

Oh, well I just opened an Imperial Stout, please, have a seat.

Narrative: It was a one stoplight town in rural Alabama, but it held a simple regal poise. Michael Davidson operated a simple confectionary bake shop with his beautiful wife. Also, the town dentist had intercourse with her just months before Michael met her. He often toiled with the idea of driving to North Haversberg to have his teeth cleaned, but that was clear 90 miles away and they didn’t accept his insurance. Each visit was a toil of patience and self-discipline for Michael, he flipped through the Highlights magazine hurriedly, nervously awaiting Jeffrey Nogales, DDS. The coy way Mr. Nogales removed his latex gloves couldn’t help but augur that hate deep in Michael’s heart to imagine the same latex condom, cast away from his life partner. “So, I see we have some enamel erosion here, TOO MANY SWEETS FROM YOUR SWEET EH MICH-” Michael bit down hard and clenched his bicuspids and stared Dr. Nogales in his eyes and knowingly nodded with a black hateful rage, casting his dental care away for a spiteful pride. Michael spit the tip of Dr. Nogales’s index finger into the rinse bowl and smiled a crimson smile and signed the COBRA paperwork accordingly.