Beer of the Week: 8/28

After a two-week tasty beer hiatus for man activities—namely, rock-climbing and whitewater rafting—Beer of the Week has returned to the world of unsavory beer to save the day once again.

North Coast Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout

This week’s beer may seem deceptive at first—it is an American beer, as last weeks article so emphasized, but its name may lead you to assume that it’s some kind of commie beer—North Coast Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout.  Don’t let the name fool you—this beer in no way supports a Marxist workers’ utopia.  Rasputin was an influential figure before the Russian Revolution created the Soviet Union.  Because he was magic.  He was also completely out of his fucking mind.

Yeah...

But…being a crazy mystic in tsarist Russia isn’t really sweet enough to name an awesome beer after it, is it?  Well, consider how Rasputin died.  He was invited to dinner with several of his friends (who were actually his enemies).  They fed him poisoned food and wine, but hours later, he was unaffected, so they shot him in the back.  They fled the scene, but one returned for a final look at the corpse.  Rasputin woke up and attacked him.  So they shot him again.  Twice, in the back and the head.  And then they beat the shit out of him.  He still didn’t die.  So they threw him in a frozen river, where he finally kicked the bucket…from drowning.  That’s right—after being poisoned, shot three times, and savagely beaten, he didn’t die until he was put in a sack and thrown into a river.  By the way, examination of the floating ice in the river showed that Rasputin tried to claw his way through the ice to escape.

Not Shown: Rasputin, unimpressed

Anyway, to the beer.  It pours like squid ink—deep, deep black, with no color shining through at all.  The nose is sweet and chocolaty, and the taste is much as you’d expect from a stout—coffee, caramel, and chocolate malts.  There isn’t much hop character, but that isn’t necessarily bad, because the beer is just so damned tasty.  Word on the street is that it also might make you impervious to poison, bullets, and blunt force trauma—it couldn’t hurt to try.

Go in peace.

—Ferociousaurus