Two Spoons, Please
Manor Hill Brewing

Appearance:
Pours matte black with a dark brown tint. Poofs up a superficial head of caramel-colored, coca cola fizz that vanishes in a blink. What you’re left with appears depressingly flaccid, like a glass of flat Pepsi. This is the first dark beer that’s ever earned a dismal appearance score from me. Good job, Manor Hill.

Bouquet:
A stinging array of burnt chocolate bitters and alarmingly astringent vanilla extract assaults the nostrils encased in a Trojan Horse of rusty metal.

Feel:
Quite a mystery. Even though its bubbles disappear the same instant you pour it, the mouthfeel is rife with active carbonation. Slick and anemic, it’s nearly light bodied; something I’d previously considered unthinkable for an imperial stout. Lacks any decadence or creaminess. A stinging swarm of bubbles linger like determined hornets.

Taste:
Bitter, acidic tootsie roll that’s been dragged across the floor of a high school chemistry lab. Zero sweetness. A swift uppercut of violently acrimonious chocolate that clacks your jaw shut and cracks your teeth with barbarous force. Tastes more like a stale chocolate liquor than a proper imperial stout.

Overall:
Once my expectations were acclimated to this raw, cacao flogging in a can, I actually started to like it a bit. The chocolate is so savage and unapologetically bitter its hard to love, even for a total cocoa-addict like me. But it may appeal to the crazed, chocolate masochists among you.