Audio By Carbonatix
“Who’s that for?” I asked. The bartender at The Commissary did a quick double take and asked if I’d ordered the Black Metal. I nodded that I had, and he finished pulling off the top and grabbed a glass. I knew I was in for a long night.
My hesitancy stemmed from the size of the bottle. Enamored with my recent encounter with Jester King’s Le Petit Prince, I jumped at the opportunity to try another of the brewery’s offerings. Black Metal appeared to be the session beer’s polar opposite, clocking in at 10 percent ABV. I figured I could have one beer with my burger and saunter home with a light buzz in my head. But I hadn’t ordered one beer. I’d ordered an entire 750 milliliter bomber, and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I suddenly felt very alone at the bar. I needed backup.
Even though the burger came quickly, the beef and bread did little to protect me from the boozy brew. As I drank my way down the glass, sometimes only a sip or two, my bartender continuously returned to top it off again. I felt like Sisyphus. My stone was an endless glass of heavy alcohol that would never empty, beer that was thick and rich and dark as tar. It was like drinking a Sasquatch.
When the bottle emptied and the finish line neared, I relaxed and got to know the beer a little. The imperial stout was neither sweet nor bitter, and it drank with tones of chocolate, coffee and plenty of roasted malt. A single glass might have afforded me a nice drinking experience, but an entire bomber was punishing. I wobbled home and an early evening drowse turned into a full night’s sleep.
