Well, I’ve got a new project you should check out:

It’s pretty awesome, so if you’re not lame you should toss me a few bucks.

Mexican Standoff. I fucking win.

Goddamn, this is a heavy-ass stout. And goddamn if it ain’t sweet as fuck right up front, followed by a little cinnamon bite and after the third sip or so you get the fucking habanero burn. After a few more fucking sips, the vanilla and cocoa nibs come through and my beerection subsists. I’m starting to lose blood from my brain due to this thing. I may have to see a doctor. This priapism gonna kill me.

What would Jesus drink? This fucking beer.

A fucking beer. The morning (afternoon) coffee, to be fucking precise. Terrapin Goddamn Wake N Bake. (Or coffee imperial bullshit oatmeal porter for those pussies who made a stink.)

wake n bacon

Godjesus, this is some great fucking coffee. Thick, cold and black, like I like my beer. And goddammit I wish it was socially acceptable to be drinking a beer in the middle of the day like this before work. Guess I’ll have to pour this one out and wait until later. Or put it in a to-go mug for the road, all whitely commuting to the day job, pleated pants and a sense of entitlement.

But fuck if I’m not craving a Founders Breakfast Stout right now. Yes, that would be better.

Don Storm Martin Luther King.

This shit is a fucking maltgasm of fucking power and all roasted like King David if he were alive in Hitlerian times. This shit as all balls-to-the-wall with the darkness, yet the hops bring a brightness to the surface. It’s all like The Help‘s being nominated for best picture in the fucking Oscars and whatnot, all shiny and superficial and making white people think they’ve done something worth a shit for black people, ever. Nonetheless it’s good as fuck and I would drink it right now and tomorrow morning if someone delivered it on my front fucking step like a milkman or some shit. That would be hell of cool. God I would drink some fucking Dark Intrigue right now.

Oh, fuck. Wrong song review. I mean beer. What the fuck?

Black in black.

Man, this fucking beer reminds me of being 15 again, all playing two riffs and thinking I was going to be the next Metallica cover band, like Elastica or Aluminumica or Formica or some shit. It’s fucking blacker than Spinal Tap could ever be. All spicy with black pepper and shit, all roasty as fuck with some crazy-ass malts. I probably should have saved it for black history month. But I couldn’t, because this beer is too goddamned delicious. Seriously, fuck you if you don’t drink one right now. It’s fucking amazing and might leave you pregnant, regardless of your innerworkings.

Here’s my take on the traditional chocolate chip cookie (as adapted from Mark Bittman’s book and chocolate chip packages and my tongue, et al.).

Mothafuckin' cookies!

Now this ain’t your traditional, fluffy-ass cookie, all bland and white and boring. I mean, those are good and all, but this shit will give your tongue a hard-on.

Here’s your fucking ingredients:

1/2 cup butter
3/4 cup turbinado sugar (that brown sugar stuff is bullshit!)
3/4 cup granulated sugar (you could even use the turbinado for this)
2 eggs
2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups chocolate chips
2 cups heath bar toffee shit

Now!

1. Preheat oven to 375 F(ucking degrees)

2. Drink a beer. I would suggest Sierra Nevada Ruthless Rye.

3. Brown the shit out of your butter. I’m talking nearly burn that shit. Then, mix the hell out of the butter and sugars. Throw in the fucking eggs and beat the shit out of them.

4. Drink more beer. I believe Anchor Old Foghorn helps with the cookiemaking.

I thought there was a chicken hawk around here...?

5. Combine the dry shit (flour, baking soda, salt) in a bowl and sift that shit (or whisk). Throw it in the wet shit and stir like a motherfucker. Add the vanilla, chocolate and toffee chips. Mix.

6.. Throw that shit on something bake-worthy. I use ceramic pizza stones, and that makes a mean, chewy-but-not-fluffy, fuckworthy cookie.

Let that kick your taste buds’ asses for a while and see if you go back to normal cookies.

OH! SHiT! Winter solstice. That explains things.

Holy fuck, this is a tasty lunch time barley wine. Weighing in at a measly 10.5% (they use metric system in Quebec so that’s like 3.8% in standard), this guy is still fucking full flavored. Smooth, sweet and a tiny bit of hops give this quaffer a great balance. Not sure why they call this a winter beer (probably the metric system again), but I could see it going well to hydrate while mowing the lawn or out for a run. Would also be a good beer to cook with. Could use a bit more heat, though. I give it a 14.

COMING SOON! FUCKING RECIPE+BEER PAIRINGS!

Too many skinny knickers, not enough substance.

Too much fucking coffee. Needs more fucking stout and more fucking bourbon. Enough said.

The cookies beyond are quite good, though.

Rye the fuck would they use so much malt?

Terrapin has a good thing with their Rye Pale Ale. It had me hooked for a summer. I can still drink like eleventy and enjoy the fuck out of them. And Hopsecutioner is a good fucking IPA. So why did they have to look to 90 Minute as the gold standard of double IPAs? The bitterass hops are quite awesome. But the mouthfeel is that of a mouthful. Sticky and sweet and all that jazz, it covers up the fucking rye taste. I want a DIPA to make me want to drink more than one, not limit me to one. I get that it’s a double and all, but Sierra did the RIPA thing better with Ruthless. I’ll take 2.5% ABV off the top to have a more enjoyable beer any day of the week. Shame on you, Terrapin. You are sweeter than these chocolate chip toffee cookies made with raw sugar I’m running the train on.