This beer is not IKEA and thank the lord for that

There’s a harshness, a deep dark Marmite mash up of sweetness and peppery bite that gives the beer somewhat of a coffee like jolt to the senses when first tasted; it’s also got Bournville dark chocolate in the mix though after some time in the glass flurries of orange circle about, as circular in their routine as trained circus dogs who think nothing about sitting up and begging for their supper. There’s an amateurishness perhaps about the beer, an artisanal feel, something rough edged and hued, a piece of wood carved by instinct rather than instruction, and therefore much more pleasing than the sort of wood you see planed and perfumed and plumed in a place like IKEA. There’s an honesty about the beer, something that says take me as I am, and as I continue to drink it, I keep finding nuances and moods and tones of colour that weren’t there in the first place. The beer keeps changing in the glass, the sweetness edging up to the bitter peppery character (high alpha hop I think) and asking for a dance, a merging of differences as if they were two folk on the dancefloor dissolving into a smooch. It’s a barley wine of sorts, unpolished, a rough diamond, a bit of rough, but also interesting and intriguing, growing in confidence as it grows in the glass. I think I like it.