Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Clown Shoes Blaecorn Unidragon

Type: Russian Imperial Stout
Origin: Ipswich, MA
Price: $10.97/22oz
ABV: 12.5%
NSP: 7.41

I don't know why I keep doing this to myself.  By that I mean deciding that taking on a 10%+ imperial stout myself is a good idea.  Oh well, at least I know I won't be hungry afterwards.  Anyway, the label for this one is kind of ridiculously awesome/lame. Apparently the folks at Clown Shoes couldn't decide if they wanted to name the beer after a black dragon or a unicorn, so they just mashed them together and depicted the result on the label.  OK then.

The smell's nice and roasty, but it also immediately tells you that you're probably going to have a headache after drinking it, because it smells almost candy sweet.  My first thought?  I bet this is absolutely awful to vomit (at least as much as Brent's favorite dubbel).  I suppose most beers aren't pleasant in that respect, but you can launch nine Coors Lights and just pat yourself on the back, swirl some Scope around, and move on with your life.  This stuff would definitely make that impossible because it'll a) make it look like you just brought up a batch of pure evil and b) probably still have that same sweetness on the return trip, which'll ruin the whole rest of your day because the only way to get rid out it would be toothpaste or mouthwash made by Clorox.

Now that I've put that delightful portrait in your head, let's proceed, shall we?  The first sip brings mainly regret- because I once again realize that this bottle's going to be a major trial to finish.  It's mouth-coatingly, slap-in-the-face sweet (beyond candy, even) and boozy as all hell.  There's some good roasty flavor limping around in there, and a pretty hefty bitterness that keeps it from going completely off the reservation.  But man, it's a fucking bear.  Thankfully, the bitterness seems to pick up as it warms- or maybe it's just that the sweet receptors in your tastebuds have cut their losses and gone to bed.

Let the buyer beware- this is a double-black mogul-laden knee-shredder of a beer.  Everything about it is hard to deal with- but that most likely means Clown Shoes accomplished what they were aiming for, because a beer like this doesn't happen by accident.  So if you like playing with fire, or more specifically a giant inferno-breathing beast that comes with its own horn-spit to roast you on, have at it.

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