A good friend of mine asked me today, “What do you call a six-year-old kid with no friends?” Being a man of integrity I had no idea what the answer could be so, “what?” I asked. “A Sandy Hook” survivor, he replied with a terrible grin on his face.

I don’t like jokes that make light of tragedy. Think of what those parents had to go through: funeral catalogs. They had to go through funeral catalogs. On to the review.

It’s a picture of beer. Why are you reading this?

Appearance: An unforgiving dark brown that sits like motor oil in the glass. The head is an ever-lasting mocha color that billows up quite nicely and provides generous aesthetic. The head laces nicely down the glass, leaving a trail that celebrates how quickly I’m drinking.

Smell: The typical sweetness of an almost burnt malt that’s normal for a stout. There’s also a dark roasted coffee scent and dried fruit, raisins perhaps.

Taste: With every drink this beer simply takes over one’s mouth. The thick potent potable just coated every inch of space with its espresso and powerful malt. A bitterness soon takes over that serves to emphasize the greatness of the sweet tastes. There’s a very subtle, yet complex, fruitiness that, when detected, makes this drinker swoon.

Overall: This was more than a pleasure. I’m a vocal porter/stout snob so this was right in my wheelhouse. 86/100. I already want more of this. Send some to me damn you! Facebook and Twitter. Follow me dammit.

Up Next: Bass Stout… ewwww….