Beer Review: SkullSplitter — Man, I feel so pillaged this morning…
This is a beer whose artwork can Kick Your Ass, Burn Your Village, and Decimate Your Culture for Decades To Come (and will Later Become the Mascot for a Football Team). This beer’s artwork scoffs at the so-called “badass” artwork of Colt 45, King Cobra, and the like. This beer’s artwork eats Steel Reserve for breakfast. I can’t even get into how it lays waste to the Country Club.
And yet the beer itself didn’t quite live up to the label — maybe I’m unfairly comparing it to Samischlaus, the 28-proof brewed-only-once-a-year uber beer I just reviewed. If I’d been drinking Coors all week, I’m sure SkullSplitter would have knocked me on my shield (which is oddly shiny and clean, for a Viking). This is definitely not a weak beer, and I’m sure it earns its name the next morning after drinking a six-pack. My wife (Mrs. Liquor) took one sip and her appendix burst (not really, but same facial expression), so it might be me. I may have to conclude that I’ve broken my taste buds. I also inexplicably taste licorice in all Scottish beers, including this one, leading me to think I can’t be trusted to objectively rate beers anymore. And why does a Scottish beer have viking iconography? Historical glee at how the Vikings were one of the few cultures to subjugate the British, subjugators of Scots, Irish, Welsh, India, and the rest of the world?
It’s not a bad beer, though, and definitely packs a wallop in alcohol. It has a vaguely thick fruity taste, strong initial bite, not bad aftertaste, and possibly discovered America hundreds of years before Columbus. I would in fact judge it to be about halfway between McEwan’s and Samischlaus (though I haven’t tried enough other Scottish beers to really fill out the coordinate system there). If not quite conjuring up feelings of gnawing on a giant roast wildebeast leg at Valhalla, it’s an interesting beer experience and worth a swig or two.