There’s some goddamn polar vortex Balto bullsh** outside and I’m not letting it keep me sober.

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If you don’t vaccinate your kids Balto died for nothing, you cruel bastards.

Welcome back to the Pint Sized Review! It’s time for another rousing adventure with my crippling addiction! This entry is brought to you from a suggestion by April Samsey, long-time reader and new contributor! The beer was purchased by me, and is the Winter Solstice! A seasonal ale by Anderson Valley from Booneville, California.

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Let’s jump right in. Pouring it out, it’s got a big ole’ rocky head that ain’t going away. Like the rash from Vegas.

This beer is ruby Tuesday red. It looks like a barleywine, almost. Sediment and tiny little bubbles all floating around in there like a microcosm of brewing. I bet there’s little tardigrades and whatnot floating around there too.

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You go little guys! I’m so jealous of how drunk you are! You probably don’t even have livers to get in the way!

Smelling this ale gives me flashbacks to shoving my face full of toffees from Donckers. It’s got such a sweet scent to it. It’s like a can of candy. Maybe a bit of malt?

Tasting this is nothing but pure joy. Tastes like an Olde English Toffee with a slap of maltiness to the face. I’ve never had a beer quite like that. Way to go, Anderson Valley, you did it!

This tastes like scientific discovery.

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Get out of here, buzzkill. 

BREAKING NEWS. KATE TRIED THIS BEER.

Kate: …. I don’t think I could drink a whole glass, but this tasted really good.

Mark it down in your diaries, boys and girls. Kate didn’t hate this!

It’s such an interesting flavor profile. Letting it sit in my mouth for second allows so much more flavor to emanate from the drink. It becomes more toffee, more caramel, like a candy bar melting in your mouth.

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Nobody reads these italicized words so, story time! Once, I dropped a candy bar while sitting in a movie theater and I didn’t notice that it fell between my legs and under my butt. So after the movie when I stood up, I had melted chocolate all over the seat of my pants and didn’t even realize it. Everybody was laughing at me when I walked out because they thought I had pooped my pants, but I didn’t! I just fumbled my snacks and my body heat melted the delicacy! And that’s why I can’t watch Muppet’s Treasure Island to this day.

A bit of a bitter aftertaste, more like a sad goodbye that the beer is gone. And it is. I chugged it. I’ve no idea how to moderate myself. This blog is a cry for help.

This beer, while 6.9%, is richer than Daddy Warbucks and creamier than this picture of Ginger Baker wearing a Cream shirt while playing Cream.

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Eric Clapton looks as if he obeyed as the shirt commanded. 

I recommend pairing this beer with Sunshine, Love, and Sunshine of your Love. Oh, and drinking this while sitting in the ski lodge with a few broken ribs and a tib/fib fracture after shredding the gnar on some fresh pow pow, brah. Are you holding?

 

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