Road Dawg !
Take the puppy for a walk
The lable says: "Road Dog" and the mutt sports a pair of ill-fitting sunglasses. I don't know which subliminal message the designer tried to convey, but if it was intended to intimidate a seasoned beer drinker it falls painfully short of the mark. Hi, and welcome to another over-the-big-drink review by your friendly 2BeerGuys supporter Ignace. Tonight I will be thrilling you with my account of how the Flying Dog brewery from the Centennial State [or, if you're not so much into the whole Union thing and long for the good old days of the South: The Mountain State] sicked one of their litter upon me, through the gentle ministrations of Sean.
Road Dog is a beer after the Scottish Porter style. I appreciate that because I don't know what this style is, but I'm eager to find out. Since it was far too optimistic to hope for the Road Dog glass [they do have their own glass, don't they?] I winked mischievously at the cool puppy and applied the bottle cap opener. Letting the dog out, so to speak. The first thing I did was to sniff the beer and lo and behold: that frolicksome scent that wafted up mine nostrils doth filled me with high hopes for what the future would bring. All fresh and fruity like scent, ready for some action.
It soon became apparent why this is: the mutt is brown! Therefore, they added sugars to the brew [god I hope it's not some of that artificial stuff - they're not saying what they make their beer out of, you may risk life and limb consuming it]. A quarter inch head formed, as if to cheer the arrival into the glass with reckless abandon, alack, the feast did not last very long, virtually no carbonation ladies and gentlemen, and the foam dissipated like a door-to-door salesman's promise after the deal was closed.
The color is a dark brown, almost black. It's nothing like the Guinness which is DEEP dark and pours like syrup. This is more like coca cola.
A sip, let me at it, drink up already!!! So, one drinks... what happens? Eh... not -very much-... There was a rather satisfying rush of malt marching onto my palet. Good, great beginning, bring it on. And then it stops. A rather disappointing lack of blooming bouquet, an aftertaste that lasts as long as a dog whose tail you inadvertently dropped a log on, a shocked expression on your face when you realise that the beer disappoints your high expectations. I don't get out much, this beer was supposed to carry me through the evening. What am I supposed to do now?
The government was so nice as to warn us for the potential dangers of consuming alcohol. In this case the surgeon general overdid it. The beer produced a brief tingle in my left nostril but the risk of severe liver damage did not materialise [it's a personal policy not to test that particular side effect of alcohol consumption, I'm inordinately fond of all my internal organs].
Conclusion: this beer is not without promise. You could definitely make something wholesome and good out of it. We're not at that point yet though. Maybe a bit less marketing dollars and a bit more R&D and this beer could become a love story, I want it to become a love story. There is no such thing as too many good beers.
Time to step up to the plate, Flying Dog brewery.