Being in Australia, it
seems a bit wrong drinking an English beer, especially one that I
brought over from home. I'll go as far to forgive myself this one
time. It was and is a very special beer I bought for my brother and
brought it out to him with all intention to try some of it for
myself. The day I arrived in Sydney, I gave him the selection of
beers that I'd chosen specially for him. They are all amazing beers
that I longingly hand picked to show him the 'Best of British' at the
current time, several beers from all over the country, not just
London. In fact, I think I only got a couple from London. I did have
another for him but accidentally opened it up when placing it on the
counter, the cap hit another bottle and I heard the psssssst sound
that happens when you open a bottle cap slower than a snails pace
giving the carbon dioxide the smallest possible space to escape and
join its family in the atmosphere.
Enough about the bottle
I accidentally opened or the other ones I brought out. The beer that
we tried was being saved for a special occasion or something like
that. I hinted on a daily basis to open it up, open it. It fell on
deaf ears. The time came to crack it open though and like one of his
many disciples, I followed.
The name puzzles me,
'Even More Jesus VIII'. I don't get the Even more Jesus, and the part
VIII I can only assume that it was either their eight attempt at this
beer or that it was the eight version that had been brewed. No longer
does my bro have a beard but when he did, he bared a striking
resemblance to the man himself. A divinely lush and full beard, long
and smooth very unlike mine when I grow one anyway. My beards tend to
be thick, bristly and unmanageable. Dense wiry hair that grows in any
direction it bloody wants. Dom's beard however, along with his long
dark locks would be a very familiar sight among the oils of the
pre-renaissance masters.
Siren have created a
masterpiece of their own. An Imperial Stout with liquorice, probably
many other things but you needn't know. The smell alone gives you an
indication of how magnificent this glassful or bottle full of
darkness is going to be. Allowing time to admire it, soaking in its
warmth and greatness. Dom, my dad and I all had a little glass of it.
A 330ml bottle managed to half fill three small wine glasses.
Looking at it and
reading its description, you're or I was still taken aback by how
smooth and relatively light the beer was. Expecting it to be rich and dark like treacle, it was not. Nowhere near, a lot of Imperial Stouts
you can buy are as viscous as West Texas Crude and so sweet they
would prevent and de-evolve a man to only be able to have toothless
children. This beer was sweet and more viscous than a standard Stout
or Porter but in a very good way. I do enjoy some very viscous beers
but they can get a bit too much after a while or even a few small
sips. This beer I could have had bottle after bottle, even with it
being over 11%.
With beers good enough to form religions.
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