Appearance - 6 | Aroma - 7 | Flavor - 7 | Texture - 6 | Overall - 6

Well God damn. Someone is picking a weird guitar while I admire this can, found in Houston for what it’s worth. I can smell the goat stench from here - Malian radio is the shit, seriously for shizzle, you can feel yourself in that musty mud hut and that is a far, far cry from the twelve lane highways of Houston. Seriously motherfucker, I don’t know what’s better - the conveniences of an American metropolis or simply reading stupid shit by candlelight drinking the worst swill from Amsterdam that came out over the camel caravan three years ago. It’s kind of odd, the more you experience a primitive lifestyle the more you appreciate it. Sure, you’re not getting your constant facebook feed of bullshit where all the women are bitching about Trump but on the other hand you feel the heat, the dust, the humidity, you saw the sun set and you will see the sun rise..... you watch those charcoal embers burn, ethereal in their mystery, you see the stars above. You feel like a member of Earth. Odd screeching from women with a different skin colour than yours, cattle staring in the distance their eyes creating streaks of light off your bonfire.... but you’re back here, in Houston, millenial brewers aghast as they all try their hand at this stuff. Hey, I can’t complain, I like drinking as much as the next camel. It’s got a modest hazel head anyways and some brown body, a little clear, but whatever. She’s screeching, under that bonfire, tents pitched as we stare at those stars. Lotsa malt on this, sweet and cerealy, a bit of funk which appeals to me in my rustic ruminations. Seriously was Life supposed to be so refined, so distilled, that we would forget that we are mere mammals riding this rock into oblivion? At least the Malians have a clue, give them that at least. Of the earth, from the earth.... even if we get to Mars, it’s still home, right? So space. At lot of amber ale stuff going on here, malt all over the place, perhaps too much over the place. No layering, no complexity, more of a barn beer for those hot summer Texas nights. Or Malian nights, what the fuck do I know. I hope you didn’t think I knew something; I never intended to give off that impression. Hazelnut, graham cracker, sweet breads... shit why isn’t White Castle in Texas anyways? This stuff works, as a good brew, abv is up there but invisible. But would they drink this on their way to Mars? Fuck if I know. Something similar would work, ’cuz hoppy farts are a thing. Seriously.