I’ve put my Patrick Ewing kneepads on, I’ve taken a few swigs of water for moisture, I’ve loosened up my cheek muscles, unhinged my jaw, and the dental dam is firmly in place…it’s time for me to fellate Samuel Adams Utopias.
This is not just the best beer ever, it is not just the best fermented drink ever, but it is perhaps the best alcoholic beverage in the history of mankind. Let’s just say, the long-dead American patriot shouldn’t just be honored to have his name on this, he should be greatly worried that history will remember Sam Adams Utopias the beer before they remember Sam Adams the man. This beer is so motherfucking good that people should learn the lost art of epic poetry simply so they can compose epic poems to it. It is a greater achievement than landing on the moon or discovering evolution. Jim Koch, the Samuel Adams brewmaster, should win Time’s Man of the Year.
Utopias comes in a bomber-sized, ceramic genie-bottle-shaped vessel that if you rub the side and unscrew the cap a spirit (luckily one NOT voiced by the insufferable Robin Williams) pops out, not granting you three wishes but instead telling you that if you have just a few ounces of this beer you will achieve nirvana.
Oh, have I mentioned…
It is the most alcoholic beer ever crafted!
Did you hear me?
THE MOST MOTHERFUCKING ALCOHOLIC BEER CREATED!!!
And, it is to be drunk in two-ounce servings from specially-designed Utopias glassware. Yes, the Boston Beer Company does not think any other glasses in the history of the world have been created to appropriately drink their beer from. Thus, they crafted their own (see bottom picture). How awesomely arrogant is that?!
Even more interesting, due to silly Christian laws created and inspired by the Brigham Youngs, Jerry Fallwells, and Jim Joneses of the country, Utopias is not allow to be sold in fourteen U.S. states. Here is that damnable lineup:
Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Iowa, Missouri, New Hampshire, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, South Carolina, Washington, and West Virginia.
I don’t even recognize states as being part of our union if they don’t allow this brilliant concoction to be tippled by constituents. I actually proudly fly a thirty-six star American flag over my heavily-fortified drinking compound.
I will not recognize you despicable fourteen states until you let your citizens drink Utopias!
Not that they could actually locate it as Sam Adams only releases 12,000 bottles of heaven per two years. I am lucky enough to have tried Utopias on three different occasions. Each time, loving and understanding it just a little more.
OK, so we know it’s potent, we know it’s pricey, we know it’s rare, we know it merits a blow job, but how does it taste? I thought nothing more appropriate for this beer than to actually review it like a legit beer snob (not that a legit beer snob would preface his review with a highly-graphic fellatio prologue). If any beer merits pretentiousness it is this one.
Appearance: An absolutely gorgeous amber like what that dinosaur-blood-sucking mosquito was frozen in “Jurassic Park.”
Smell: A bouquet of incredibly potent maple syrup, but this ain’t Aunt Jemima, it’s the good shit you buy at a hippie farmer’s market. The aroma goes up your nose as the Utopias’ odorants bind with olfactory neuron cell bodies. Their axons synapse in the olfactory bulb region in your brain, making you go, “God Damn! I said God Damn!” like Mrs. Mia Wallace in “Pulp Fiction.”
Taste: More full-bodied than Aretha Franklin. Maple syrup, vanilla, cinnamon, honey, several different types of yeast, caramel malts, and a whole lotta hops though not much bite. Earthy with some spice and hints of bourbon and sherry due to aging I believe. A creamy, chocolate and coffee-like finish. More sublime than “40 Oz. to Freedom.”
Mouthfeel: Nearly indescribable. As complex as beer, if not any alcohol, can possibly get. God did not create a human with enough writing prowess to adequately discuss the Utopias’s feel. It is absolutely unlike beer, lacking in carbonation and with no need for refrigeration. It would best be described as nearer to being a potent barley wine, a sherry, an aged port, maybe a bourbon, or most likely fine cognac as composed to a measly brew. The difference between the “beers” of Utopias and, say, Bud Light is more pronounced than the the slugging difference between George Herman Ruth and Dr. Ruth Westheimer.
Drinkability: Eminently drinkable though one will probably never consume more than an ounce or two in a sitting as it is like drinking money. Figuratively of course.
Consuming this beer will ruin you for the rest of the day (if not your entire existence on planet earth). Not cause it’s that potent–remember, you’re only savoring a few ounces of it max–but, rather, because everything afterward will taste so goddamn sub-par. After my most recent drinking of Utopias I followed it up with some Allagash Odyssey, a world-class beer in itself, that I was barely able to enjoy at first. My tongue was still tingling from the Utopias and my memory so seared by its brilliance that I had to eat damn near a loaf of bread to get the greatness out of my mouth and mind. I had to not just cleanse my palate, but cleanse everything I’d known about the world previous, just to appropriately review the Odyssey.
Let it be said, Utopias will change your thoughts about beer and imbibing for the rest of time. If you are ever lucky enough to find this beer, pay whatever is asked for it (or do the “Hey, look over there!” trick and filch it).
I don’t believe in a higher power but I still love Ben Franklin’s famous saying, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” He could have easily been referring to Utopias.
My absolutely highest recommendation. A masterpiece.