Kevin v. Pyotr Alexeyevich Romanov

In a quest for a beer that would challenge me, I turned to the newly expanded shelves at Hegedorns and searched for something different. Something that scared all of the bottles nearby into leaping off the shelves and into the baskets and carts of lesser beer drinkers. Something that, in the event of an air raid, could be poured on the windows of my house and allow me to keep the TV on while not letting a lick of light spill out to alert the bombers of my presence.

Stone Brewing Company's Russian Imperial Stout is such a beer. It's 10.8% ABV, and it doesn't do a damn thing to stop those who sample it from figuring that out. It pours out looking like a glass of motor oil with a head like Goldilocks...after the bears have scalped her and tossed their prize in the dirt of the forest. It smells like the Earth itself, especially the thin layer of chocolate coffee that hides just below the crust. The taste is similar, but with hints of the crust itself thrown in for good measure. Oh, and then it kicks you in the appendix - or your colon, if you've had your appendix out - with the alcohol. At all temperatures (between about 40 and 65 degrees), the alcohol bites like a million PMSing fire ants in every sip.

This beer is the reason I have been going to the gym regularly for the last four months. I don't need to be hot; I don't need a healthy heart. I just need to be man enough to handle a drink like this when it's all I can get my hands on. If I ever get placed on a liquid diet, this drink alone will be thick enough to sustain me through the harshest of winters or the most scorching of summers.