Popping the top and giving it a sniff: It smells of molasses with a dark undertone of yeast and toasted malt.

Taking that first wonderful swig:  Sweet dark malt, molasses, pecan and walnut notes, sting of hops, smooth bitter finish.  One of the best Porters I’ve ever had.  But, dare I say, is it better than Okocim Polish Porter, which has been up until now my favorite beer in the world?

Let’s test!  Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a bonus section!  Here, for the first time ever, I bring to you the GroovyBrew.com Head-to-Head Porter Smackdown!

Gonzo: Lighter. More fizz.

Okocim: Thicker and richer, not so much fizz.

Gonzo: Better high notes.

Okocim: More complex tail end, sweeter finish.

Gonzo: Sweeter up front, more black coffee at the finish.

Okocim: Definitely smoother.

Gonzo: More for swilling, more likely to drink one after another.

Okocim: More for sipping and savoring.  Less likely to down one after another.

Gonzo: 12 oz. bottle for about $2.50 (Chicago area price).

Okocim: A bit over a pint (500ml) for about $2.50 (Chicago area price).

Gonzo: 7.8% alcohol.

Okocim: 8.3% alcohol.

Gonzo (final impression): Would happily drink it every day.

Okocim (final impression): Would save it for an occasional treat.

WINNER BY A MARGIN: Flying Dog Gonzo Imperial Porter!

Seriously, they’re both wonderful beers, and I love both of them, but all in all I’d have to rate the Flying Dog “.1” more.  So since I’ve given Okocim a 9.8 on the Holy Grail Scale, I must then award Flying Dog’s Gonzo Imperial Porter a 9.9!

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the closest to the Holy Beer I have yet found!

That’s a pretty bold statement coming from a “hoppin’ frog.”  Let’s put it to the test.

I pop the top of this bad boy.  It’s a tall bottle, 1 Pint & 6 oz., and I decide to pour it into a mug instead of imbibing it directly from the bottle.  But first I take a sniff to see what we’re dealing with here.

It smells like hops and dark roasted malt, and it pours like well-used motor oil.  I’m not kidding.  This brew is thick, viscous, and absolutely black, with a dark brown head.  (I don’t remember ever seeing a head this dark.)  I have no choice but to wonder: What the hell am I getting myself into? 

It’s either going to be outrageously good, or abysmal.

First sip.  Initial taste is sweet black coffee.  Smooth, heavy, and rich.  Sting of hops, quickly pummeled by the taste of oatmeal with brown sugar.  That reigns for a good long while until it fades under a layer of burnt toast, and then finally the resurgence of a strong wash of hoppy bitterness.

Not only is this a groovy brew, it’s a very groovy brew, and I grant it a outrageously high 9 (nine!) on the Holy Grail scale.

I also have to rate it as a OMFG beer.  “Oatmeal freaking good,” of course.  Heh.

Consider me destroyed.  After downing this entire bottle of 10.6% (roughly 21 Proof) ale, I can no longer feel my face.

That’s just freaking awesome. Why can’t my photo program do that? I mean, come on, a word processor is showing up professional photo software! Corel, please, get your act together. Microsoft is kicking your pants.

Okay, back to the ale. This ale is awesome. Someone recommended it to me and I am glad I took them up on it. From the masters at Hook Norton Brewery in Oxfordshire comes this, a traditional English ale, with the motto: "Where progress is measured in pints."

Pop the top, take a whiff, and you smell golden malt, a drift of hops, and a touch of yeast.

Take a sip, and it turns to a gulp. I’m having to sound the gulp alert on this one. It tastes so smooth and refined that your body just automatically says, "Okay, open up, we’re taking it all in one go!"

Force yourself to stop. Take a cleansing breath. Sip.

It’s fruity, smooth, refined, and smooth. Did I mention refined? And smooth? It’s those things. The crystal malt is coming from somewhere on a higher plane. The beer sings, either that or it melted my brain. One of the two, or perhaps both. Exquisite is about all I can come up with.

I hereby proclaim this to be a groovy brew and a holy beer contender, and rate it a high 8.0 on the Holy Grail Scale. Also, I’m wishing I’d gotten more than one bottle.

But, really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s better that I didn’t.

Popping it open, I give it that obligatory first sniff. It smells yeasty and sweet, so much so the scent overpowers just about everything else but the faint undertone of malt.

I raise it up to my lips, tip it back. Tastes just how I remember it. Beer syrup. On the initial sip all you really notice is how heavy and thick it seems, and the taste is a neutral grain alcohol flavor that sinks smoothly under a wave of citrus maltiness. That gives way to a mild bitterness that has a woody quality to it, reminding me just a bit of bourbon.

Actually that’s a good way to describe it. If you ever have a dark beer with a bourbon chaser, that aftertaste is quite a bit like EKU 28. The chaser is included.

Indeed. This brew is 11% alcohol by volume, and it hits you quickly. You don’t want to drink too many of these in a row, unless you like waking up naked in the meridian of a major freeway, or hanging from a tree by a bondage outfit you have no recollection of buying.

I have no choice but to proclaim EKU 28 as a groovy brew, but I don’t really feel it rates as a holy beer contender. It’s good and it’s fun but it doesn’t cause angels to sing.

I’m writing this on an Apple iPad in a screened-in porch at sunset. Why? I don’t know. Just because I can, I guess.  That, and it seemed to be a nice place to take a picture of the bottle.

O’Doul’s Premium, which comes in a green bottle, does indeed taste different than O’Doul’s Amber, which comes in an amber bottle. One tastes amber and the other one tastes green.

Okay, it’s kind of cold out here on the porch. I’m going inside.

There. Much better. Now I’m sitting in a recliner writing on the iPad. And I’m still drinking this O’Doul’s.

What do I mean it tastes "green?" Well it just does. It tastes like it’s coming out a green bottle. It’s psychological I guess, but really, that’s what it tastes like to me. Green glass beer.

It smells weakly of green hops. It tastes like green hops, too, and watery. There’s a bit of a bite from the bubbles and, for a few seconds, the brain is fooled into thinking this might be a Michelob. But it fades quickly to a rather disappointing barley water flavor, followed by a muted surge of weak bitterness.

If I had to choose between O’Doul’s Premium and O’Doul’s Amber, I’d choose the amber. If I had to choose between this and water, I’d choose O’Doul’s, either color. It’s better than nothing. Not much of an endorsement, I know, but that’s as good as you’re going to get from me.

O’Doul’s Premium is better than plain water.

A touch here, a touch there, and you’ll find out everything you want to know about a certain style of beer.

I absolutely love it, and for those of you with an iPhone/iPod Touch, the same program works on those as well – you don’t have to buy another copy.

More info:  Beer Judge Certification Program website and BJCP Styles on Apples App Store.

This is O’Doul’s Amber.

Oh yes, amber.  Not to be confused with O’Doul’s green.  The color distinction is more in the shade of glass than the brew – but, whatever.

This one really does smell like beer.  So much so, it’s got my pen-hand shaking.

Hmm.  Not good.  I mean, for me.  If I miss the stuff so much that a sniff of it starts me to shaking…  Well, let’s not go down that path right now.

The first sip fools my taste buds for maybe four seconds, the taste masked behind a very beer-like effervescence. That fades to a barley-water taste that’s devoid of even the hoppiness – weak as it is – of Sharps.

A surprise here:  I like Sharps better!  I don’t know why I thought I’d like O’Doul’s better, but I did expect I would, and I don’t.  Quite the contrary.

This is watery but not with a thin mouthfeel – the specific gravity seems fairly heavy.  And, well, I’m not going to pour it out.  It’s drinkable.  But compared to Sharps, I’d take the Sharps.

I’m still surprised by that.

I’m renting this wonderful little place on a corner lot … on an island.  Think about that for a second.  A corner lot on an island.  It’s where the beach turns a corner.

On the very corner of this island is another little island, just big enough for a medium sized tree and a hammock.  I am on that hammock.

There are no big waves on this side.  If there were, it might take me out.  But it’s nice and calm, and instead of booming and hissing, the water here is calm and makes little wet lapping sounds.  In the distant there’s the occasional cry of a seagull, about once every 92 seconds, like clockwork.

Popping off the cap with the opener on my key chain, I relax here, taking in this calm Zen moment in the whirlwind of my life, and take a deep sniff of the Green Flash Barleywine.

Nothing.  I can hardly smell anything.  I don’t know if that’s because of this brew, or if it has something to do with the functioning of my nose at this moment.  (Or should I say, non-functioning?)

I take a deep breath, clear my mind, and raise the heavy bottle to my lips.  The first sip is wonderfully malty – it tastes of toasty malt, very much like a biscuit, all swallowed up in a wave of tingly bubbles.  Next is a passage of a vodka, alcohol taste, something to let me know this brew means serious business.  Then again, this is barleywine – if it didn’t have a serious alcohol punch, there’d be something wrong with it.

After that, it finishes with a nice rising tide of hoppy bitterness.  Very good.  Indeed, it’s delicious.  And it’s perfect for enjoying on a hammock on the sea shore.

I’d give this a decent 6 on the Holy Grail scale and proclaim it an official groovy brew.

This review transcribed from handwritten notes taken in 2009.

Get ready for a shock.

Are you ready?  I mean, are you braced for it?  Yes?  Okay, here goes…

I like this stuff.

Okay, I know my accumulating months of brewski self-depravation may be causing some sort of dementia in my brain, but Sharps is not bad at all.  I doubt I would have said this in December 2009, but here, now, I’m saying it. 

What’s doubly strange is that I like it even though I can sum it up with these three words:  Tangy Barley Water

As with other non-alcoholic reviews I’ve been posting, please bear in mind I am not comparing this to actual beer.  Sharps, such as it is, is not bad.  It’s tangy, has some good satisfying carbonation, and gives you a nice barley flavor spiked with hops.

Not a whole lot of hops, but enough to enjoy.

You could also think of it as beer flavored water.  In a pinch, or in my cause, a drought, it does the trick.

As often as not, that’s all that’s required.

I had this a few nights ago with a really nice cut of rare steak, some potatoes, and asparagus.  During this excellent meal, Kaliber tasted almost exactly like a Guinness Stout.  I was in heaven.

Without the meal, drinking it all on its own, is another story.

When you pop the top and take that first sniff, all is well.  It has that familiar and welcoming scent of dark roasted malt and yeast.

Raising it to the lips, taking that first swig, the illusion holds for about 18 seconds.  Maybe.  I think.  Could be that I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt, because the more I think about it, the more it seems like 12 seconds.

There’s a rush of dark toasted malt with strong hints of rye bread.  That part is all good.  Then it fades to a disappointing burnt taste that reminds me of blackened bread crust.  Yeah, you know … been in the toaster too long?  The carbonation is thin and disappears almost instantly, leaving it about as flat as it can be without actually being flat.

All this sounds very negative, and that’s not really fair.  For a non-alcoholic brew, it’s not bad at all.

With a good hearty meal, it’s excellent.