beer_name: Double Dog Double Pale Ale
text: I used to just think that no beer looked bad if it had Ralph Steadman artwork on the bottle. This is true, but it goes beyond that, so far as Flying Dog is concerned. The brewery has always done a great job in presenting a bottle that doesn't just cool but also projects the feel of the beer inside. Heller Hound's bottle is that of a clear sky, blueness, and the only things that are jagged are the drunkards standing underneath it. That's what spring feels like, when you're standing in it and drunk. And that's what a good bock should make you feel like. HH isn't the only example of this, but it's the easiest to describe. There's also Gonzo Imperial Porter, the skull-faced representation of the recently deceased Hunter Thompson coming off as vulgar but not at all creepy or mournful, dark and deep but still celebratory, not ponderous. In Heat Wheat shows a lightly golden, mild summer sky, pastoral except for the jagged bitch in heat in its center, attracting the tail end of a dozen suitors. It's peaceful and tame, but also drunk and raucous. Double Dog Ale is no exception to this fine tradition. Its label is entirely brown and orange except for a few small spots but it does not come off at all as unbalanced or harsh. It is bunch of shades mixed together that are very hard to mix together successfully, and its mascot, a bediapered dog with a foot-wide tongue and a knowing grin, signals the same sense of wonderful, incomprehensible inebriation that a nightful of double IPAs is sure to result in. The beer is a perfectly balanced mess of stinging west coast hops, citrusy, piney, dry, and dripping with nectar. Then there's the fresh, sweet biscuity and roasted nutty malt that's given a dryer backbone by a wonderful string of chewy yeast. It all tastes and smells strange and strong, like its cover, but it's strange and strong in the best of kind of way. Balanced to perfection, leading to nothing but joy. Another winner from the most unfairly maligned brewer in the country.