Sin City Brewery's Classic Irish Dry Stout

On March 22nd at 12:53 P.M., I was walking back from the Planet Hollywood casino through the Miracle Mile when I chanced upon a tiny little bar. Though overflowing with gaudy paraphernalia and shameless in its touristy sheen, the miniscule niche (barely larger than a New York hotdog stand) was a palatial oasis in a sea of Coors and Bud Lights. Craft beer! A beacon of hope to the discerning drinker. Beerus Ex Machina.

Ah, indeed it was fortuitous that I espied the diminutive watering hole at that very moment. I had wanted to forget the money I had ungraciously donated to countless pit bosses. I had wanted something to purge from my mouth the lingering vestiges of American macros that I had theretofore been imbibing. I had wanted something with taste, gravity, and spunk.

I promptly bee-lined for my new haven, pulled up a chair, and requested the thickest, blackest draft they had. Sin City Brewery was ready to oblige.

The bartender soon presented me with a pitch-black libation: their Classic Irish Dry Stout. As the name suggests, it's an Irish Dry Stout modeled after the iconic Guinness. I peered down into the cup, angling my nose to whiff any aromatics emerging from the muddy depths. Not much bouquet came through, though the smell could have been masked by the sterile plastic cup in which it was served. "Drat! It could taste like anything!" I thought, looking askance at the inert inky liquid. A few bubbles rose lazily to the surface. "I'm not going to drink myself," the beer seemed to say without any particular sense of urgency.

0 hour. Judgement Sip. Without the osmic reconnaissance to prepare my palate, I took an apprehensive swig.

The stout unsurprisingly delivered a simple, powerful melody of coffee and chocolate notes. I found it to be a little earthier than Guiness with a bolder coffee taste. Also hitting me with its modest maltiness, the taste transitioned gradually from sweet caramel to a dull bitterness. Hoppiness was rather low, though we all know that hops is not a desideratum of mine.

I liked the soft roasted characters as well, which weren't at all reminiscent of charcoal (thank heavens). It had a buttery mouthfeel with a slight prickliness thereafter, ending in a mildly acerbic aftertaste. With some hearty swills, I soon finished the satisfying brew and kicked back for a nap.

I give it a solid B.