(For this article I am going to touch on some potentially delicate religious topics. There may even be moments where I get somewhat, for lack of a better word, blasphemish. I do not take such things lightly. As a beer writer on a semi-pornographic website, I understand that many naturally look to me as a moral touchstone. I’ll do my best to not belittle anyone’s cherished beliefs, except for maybe the Buddhists. After all, what are those pussies going to do about it? Meditate me to death?)
Before we dive into the specifics on the beers below, I thought it would be a nice change of pace to learn a little bit more about you, my dedicated readers. First off, how are you? I trust this article finds you well? I certainly hope tha-
Sorry. I really would have preferred to ease you into that, but I thought it best to just rip the bandaid off. This is one of those rare moments in life where shitting your pants is totally appropriate, so feel free to indulge.
This revelation came to me as it has to so many prophets before – a sign from above:
This billboard is not a farce, despite the graphic designer’s choice to incorporate the silhouette of a man crapping on the beach. The eBible Fellowship are as earnest in this message are they are funded to share it.
Using a potent combination of faith and math (which I call “fath”), they have calculated Judgment Day to be exactly 7,000 years after Noah’s flood. It is nice to know that God, a being beyond the reach of time, has as big a hard-on for round numbers as humanity does. Their fath places this harrowing date on Saturday, May 21st. If there was ever any doubt in God’s omnipotence, consider that He planned this event over 7 millennia ago such that even the end of the world wouldn’t mess with His Sunday. Working for the weekend, indeed.
So there you have it. Either the world as we know it is going to end on Saturday or it’s not. Even if you’re not religious, those are 50% odds, people. Luckily some of the world’s finest and most clairvoyant brewers have prepared for this eventuality. The question is are these beers worth skipping the Rapture for?
Judgment Day Ale (10.5% ABV) – The Lost Abbey/Port Brewing
From the instant you pop the cork (fancy, right?!) on this murky ale the smells fly at you. There’s an alluring mix of figs, booze, brown sugar, currants and maybe a little milk chocolate in the nose. This beer would make a fantastic plug-in air freshener, but all my attempts to create it have ended poorly.
The dark fruit flavors build with a sweetness akin to a maduro cigar. (That’s right, ladies. I’ve cultivated two different pastimes that give me dragon breath. Three if you count my competitive eating in the balut circuit. And you still want me.) I taste hints of pear, raisin, licorice and some of that peculiar soapy flavor I get from certain Belgian yeasts.
There’s a pretty substantial alcohol presence that makes things a bit astringent, but it has enough big flavors around it to compensate. For all that sweetness, the finish is surprisingly dry and crisp, with an herbal, spicy finish.
While not every dimension of this beer is suited to my personal tastes, there’s a lot here to surprise even seasoned beer drinkers.
Salvation Ale (9% ABV) Avery Brewing
The Salvation has a kind of tropical smell to it. The aroma hovers somewhere between peach and guava. There’s a faint citrus smell and must to it as well.
There’s a strong fruity component to the flavor. It also has a warming spice that most would call cinnamon, but I instantly recognized it as pepper spray. I guess you could say this beer tastes like apricot and violated restraining orders to me.
The alcohol is also prominent, but not with the same bite as the Judgment Day. The finish is a lovely blend of Belgian mustiness and a flowery hop note.
I’ve had this creamy golden ale before, but I like it more than I recalled. My palate must really be evolving. I’m glad that’s the case because otherwise this wild inconsistency would just be totally unprofessional.
Ommegeddon (8% ABV) Brewery Ommegang
The description on this beer may require a little explanation. First off, “funkhouse” is a house made of funk. This is detailed in the “Ommegang Field Survival Guide” as a rudimentary structure constructed with James Brown’s skeletal remains. It’s an oddly specific and morbid thing to reference for a beer, but we are talking about a brewery that celebrates the apocalypse.
Brettanomyces is quite literally another animal altogether. This yeast strain is often associated with Belgian or Belgian-style beers. Its reputation for delivering weird flavors and aromatics is legendary. It’s not an easy yeast to refine or constrain, but with proper diligence it can usually be detected in culture:
This beer of doom has an inappropriately sunny straw color with a thick beady head. The nose is heavy with lemons and farmhouse aromas. If the luscious combination of mildew and cow sweat don’t charge your batteries, you’ll probably want to seek your beer adventures elsewhere.
Its first sip is incredibly dry. It leeches all the moisture out of your mouth like a Dementor’s kiss feeding off your soul. However, it has a creaminess and effervescence reminiscent of a slightly warm butterbeer (minus the sickly butterscotch notes). It’s lemony, mildly spicy and tart, has hints of pear and would pair perfectly with the Harry Potter movie on basic cable right now that in no way infected the content of this review.
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