As a fan of Islay whiskies you'd think I'd be predisposed to liking this, but it's not whisky, it's beer. So now what? It pours a clear yellow with a finger or so of head. That's what a beer does. And then things start to get... uncomfortable. Big iodine, seaweed, smoking tyre rubber. Smells like that shot of Ardberg Supernova I paid 20-something dollars for at Cru Bar recently. But look at those little bubbles... again, this is beer.
Smoke, smoke and more smoke in the taste. More smoked than the most smoked beer that you can think of. More smoked than most actual smoke. And far more like bacon, burnt plastic and sea salt as well. No bitterness to speak of. I am overcome with the notion that everything I thought I knew about beer was wrong.
The only time I paid attention to mouthfeel was initially, when I was forced to try to come to terms with a universe in which carbonated Laphroaig could exist. It was pretty good, I think.
This beer is obviously not for everyone. Not necessarily even for me, the first time. But as some Buddhist guy said - the narrow mind rejects; wisdom accepts. A confounding and challenging journey that ends with a glorious sunset, revelatory fist-pump and a sincere and embarrassingly loud "FUCK YEAH". Cheers.
* About the author: Bob Vining is drunk. Also, here's a picture of some Queso Fundido he made yesterday:
Nice.
