They say “a picture is worth a thousand words”. And if you take a close look at the picture on the left, you will see something that perhaps tells you more about this beer than even a thousand words could. Can you see what it is? For the astute, you will have noticed that the cap is still on. And that’s the way the remaining bottles of this icky stout will remain.

There are many stout makers that really get what a stout is all about: Black Seal Stout at the Rock Bottom in La Jolla, Snow Plow by Widmer, and our Patron Saint, Guiness to name a few. But then there are the others. Bison Chocolate Stout, Boone Valley Oatmeal Stout, and this one. “Stouts” from brewers that seem to think that burnt wood is a flavor people would like in their beer. I want to believe that they made it taste like this on purpose, but even so it doesn’t make it better. You get some yummy stout flavor on first sip, but then the rest of this bottle is like “juice of firepit log.” Steer clear.

Usually I don’t buy beer to cook with first and drink second, but I did it with this one. It made OUTSTANDING grilled clams, only because the beer flavor disappeared when the clams opened up, but it’s not quite so nice to drink.

This pale ale is almost trying to be an IPA, but fails. There is a lingering aftertaste that reminds you of drinking and overly steeped cup of tea. I think the brewer left the teabag in this stuff way too long. If you like the wake up in the morning, cotton mouthy taste that this stuff leaves behind, by all means swill a case of this stuff.

It starts out tasting OK, but then quickly goes down hill with the hoppy, gritty, tea-baggy after taste. OK, no jokes about tea-bagging, but Frosty, you know who you are.

I’ll not be buying any more. I might not even finish the two that are left in the fridge. I think I’ll let the kitchen sink choke them down.

The particular 24 oz. can of Mickey’s that I purchased had a picture of an Ultimate Fighting champion on it, with gloves on, dukes up, ready to pummel your liver. Surprisingly, it wasn’t terrible — like most malt liquors, it is tolerable if served extremely cold. Also like most malt liquors, the horribleness factor rises sharply as you approach the bottom of the can. Near the bottom, as your hand’s warmth causes the actual flavor to come out, and as your repeated swilling stirs up lots of frothy bubbles, the remaining beer is absolutely undrinkable. You gotta like the marketing with UFC, though — this beer might be bad, but it’ll kick some butt on the top shelf of your fridge. Don’t put it near the mayonnaise, or someone might get hurt…

Passion Fruit beer? I mean, I like Passion Fruit. I like Wheat Beer. But put those two things together, and something truly nasty ensues. I can even be accused of liking fruity beers (Go McMenamins Rubinator!), but this is one of those flavor combos that just doesn’t work out. Maybe my real problem was that when I was buying this I was in the mood for Orange Juice. On the bright side, after giving it a few bottles to try and redeem itself (no luck), it turned out that this stuff makes a pretty good chicken marinade. Mix it with some molasses, brown sugar, teriyaki and voila! Something yummy to eat while drinking a better beer.