Draft at EBF. A one of a kind experience here. This is tabasco sauce in beer. Its completely overwhelming, i couldnt drink this. This is more of a novalty , hey brian go put some hot sauce in joeys beer. He turns red and everyone laughs.

WOW, name pretty much says it all. EBF pou. saw everyone tasting it then pouring it out. not really a taste of beer, just well burning. Great to trick friends with, id buy it to prank friends.

NOTB 2/15/08. If you like tabasco, I suppose you may like this beer, but you might as well just drink the tabasco as I’m sure its cheaper. This beer contains no traces of being a beer aside from the fact that it is a liquid. I’m not averse to beer experimentation, but this really doesn’t taste like beer. Had no idea that it was a porter.

Extreme Beer Fest 2/15/08: There’s really only one thing I can say about this beer: holy hotness! Couldn’t really get anything else from this beer except an utterly overwhelming tabasco/other hot stuff taste. I couldn’t drink this stuff.

EBF V NOTB. Well. Well, well, well. I’m really not sure how to numerically rate this. At all. I would prefer it if "???" were an option for both the flavor and overall ratings. The concoction is less of a beer and more of a life experience. It also cannot be put into terms of "good" or "bad," nor any synonym, no matter how strained, for either of those words. It just is. You look at the liquid and think, "hmm, a dark beer." The aroma is for the most part the aroma of a standard, solid porter. There’s definitely some smoke in there, but nothing the slightest bit unusual, hardly even noteworthy, especially for a beer classified as a smoked. You put the glass to your mouth, and your lips are the first part of your body to sense that something odd is about to happen. How do your lips know this? Why do they instinctively twitch as they come in contact with the glass? Questions science cannot yet answer. As the liquid inches toward your mouth, your nose picks up on the unfamiliar, but nonetheless distinct, feeling of impending revelry. It also uncontrollably twitches, trying to get every last angle of the scent in an attempt to warn your mouth. But it is too late. The liquid has arrived. The lips are paralyzed. The mouth has been drowned in tabasco needles. You absent-mindedly remove the glass from your lips and try to get a handle on the situation. What was once liquid is no longer said state of matter. It has turned to high-energy plasma that was never intended for human contact. You feel your body, and you feel your mouth, but there is no longer a connection between the two. The mouth is somewhere else. The tabasco needless are dancing, crocheting your tongue with freshly lit propane. You think you’ve swallowed, but the propane blanket has been too firmly attached to the tongue. Your mouth concinves you that the entire room is in flames. You look for an escape, but there is none. There is none. There is none.