MEMO: FROM THAT GREAT WET BAR IN THE SKY
DATE: OCTOBER 27, 2005
FROM: HUNTER S. THOMPSON
SUBJECT: FLYING DOG GONZO IMPERIAL PORTER
A BRACING JOURNEY TO THE HEART OF DARKNESS ... SOME HIGH-OCTANE GOOP ... WITH BEER LIKE THIS, WHO NEEDS COFFEE? ... SOMEONE TELL STEADMAN HEíS HAD ENOUGH
When I got wind that those wackos at Flying Dog brewery in Aspen, down the road from my earthly redoubt in Woody Creek, were brewing a beer in my honor, I was aghast. First off, Iím not one for gimmicks. Not one bit. Second, Iíve always been more of a Heineken man (Wild Turkey chasers, of course). I donít much go for these so-called craft brews.
But I was wrong, and I can admit that. This is one fine glass of ale, pouring thick and pitch-black like the dark country night, oily like Texas crude. Tastes good too: smacking of semisweet chocolate, strong espresso, a potent smokiness, a hint of anise. Christamighty, I suppose if I had to pick one beer to be named after me, this would be the stuff. Itís got a regal nature, fit to be quaffed by a tsar. And, at 9.5 percent ABV, itís just the stuff to foment the sort of bad craziness this world is sorely lacking. (A fine job by Steadman on the label, too, even if heís wrong; I make a much more handsome corpse.)
"I wouldnít recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but theyíve always worked for me." I wrote that long ago. Iím sure youíve heard it before. Itís still true. But I do recommend this for everyone. Good people drink good beer. Bottoms up.
Available for $9.79 for a four-pack at Blanchardís Liquors, 103 Harvard Avenue, in Allston, and online from www.arcticliquors.com.