As soon as I saw that each bottle of this stuff had its own little unholy ivory goat medal necklace (see pic), as if each bottle got a participation award in some sort of goat-related tourney, I knew I just had to pick one up. The intensely dark brown color belied the tongue-humping malted richness in each sip. I think every bottle has its own flourishing, Renaissance level yeast civilizations all working toward the noble goal of converting my taste buds to their microscopic version of monotheism through their good works. That having been said, if you try to drink more than two of these, you're going to feel like you just ingested an undried cement shake. Go try one now.
4.5 Jenkins (Time to Celebrator)
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