Sun rises over the Akaishi Mountains.
The fog rolls in, billowing.
It slowly retreats as the gold tongues of sunlight lick against the tea fields.
Buddhist monks in a nearby monastery practice their levitation techniques while their pet dragon chases its tail around the premises.
A demented farmhand beats a goat with a swath of reeds.
In the distance, local schoolgirls engage in sexual intercourse with a demonic cephalopod.
These things brought to mind when sipping this beer, I find.
It’s as if it gives me no excuse to travel.
If I only have to spend $7.99 on this “plane ticket,” that’s fine.
No, it’s not being culturally insensitive,
It’s being culturally economical.
Moreover, if I drink enough, it’s like I’m flying anyway.
They can keep their Shaolin Soccer and feline delicacies.
…Wait, never mind; is that China?
…Eh, pretty much the same country—same difference.
I guess what I really trying to say, here, is that the Japanese can only wish they could brew beer like we Americans. I mean, hell, we pretty much invented beer.
Sure, the beer is really collaboration between Mitch Steele of Stone Brewing, Bryan Baird of Baird Brewing out of Numazu, Japan, and Toshi Ishii of Ishii Brewing in Guam, but we’ll just gloss that over.
The Imperial IPA was originally brewed as part of a relief effort after an horrendous tsunami rent asunder much of Coastal Japan. So, again, America to the rescue.
USA! USA! USA! USA!
Due to increases in efficiency, this new brew improved upon the 9.2% ABV from 2011, to now 10.1%. Rejoice, then, that you can support your alcoholism at a near 10 percent discount!
USA! USA! USA! USA! USA! USA! USA! USA!
Before you black out, make sure to take time to appreciate the tangerine glow of this ale. Savor its great lacing, its bright white, pillowy (no, fuck you, Microsoft Word; “pillowy” is a fucking word, you fascist bastard, don’t give me that red squiggly line treatment) head, quickly receding. Note how very transparent it is. It has surprisingly vigorous carbonation, yet not so surprisingly, it tempers quickly.
Not unlike my astonishing sexual technique.
Before you zonk out on the counter, relish the aromas of peach, pineapple, grapefruit, honey, grass, and some floral crap—like orange blossom, or something.
Taste the spicy apricot. Understand the grapefruit. Attempt to rationalize the lemongrass. Challenge the bright, green tea flavor to an arm wrestling match. Flirt with the big herbal notes—salty seaweed, mango flavor (likely from the tea) grassy, vegetal qualities are all sweet nothings you can whisper to get brownie points. Appreciate the sweet finish. Settle with the sloppy seconds of more apricot, especially on the aftertaste.
Before your roommate calls an ambulance, notice that sticky texture left in the mouth, contemplate the beer’s decent carbonation and its warming, seemly post-coital coda.
Slam your head into the corner of the refrigerator door as you grab for the sushi.
USA! USA! USA! USSA! UAS! SSA! ASSASAUSSA! SUSSSUUSUSUSA! SAUSUDFHFNAKFOGSOEFGJAasaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
*8.8 out of 10*