Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Because We’re Idiots: A Beer Review

Remember the first beer you ever had? Great. No, shut up, I don’t care, we’re moving on.

Remember the first time you ever realized beer could be awesome, and not just a liquid designed to get alcohol into your bloodstream inefficiently enough that you could drink for a few hours before passing out and getting dicks drawn on your face?

Abita Turbodog was not that beer for me. The first beer I ever loved was Leffe Blonde, which I first had in Luxembourg, like a fucking ponce, and sadly it has not stood the test of time. But Abita Turbodog was one of the first good beers I had on returning to the U.S., and I think the first really good American beer I ever had, and I’m here to tell you, as I double-fist pint glasses of Abita Turbodog tonight: This beer is still great. “Great?” you say? “An Abita beer, snow? A beer that gets an 83 on BeerAdvocate? Come on, man. This beer has been sold in 46 states probably since the beginning of time. If it were great, wouldn’t someone have noticed by now?” No. They wouldn’t, and they haven’t, because as human beings, we hate everything we get to know too well, whether it’s Sam Adams Boston Lager or our in-laws. BUT. I’m serious about Abita Turbodog. It’s not just “yeah that’s everywhere and I’m thrilled to drink it if it’s handy” great. This beer is great. In fact, depending on what you’re looking for on any given night, it could be the greatest thing you could possibly drink.

Abita’s beers tend to have a very particular house flavor to them, to echo a criticism I’ve heard leveled against Boston Beer Company, and New Belgium, and even Lagunitas– Hold on. Wait, just, just hold up a second. That’s a criticism? Fuck you. Abita’s more widely available beers tend to share a very pure, clean underlying sweetness that may or may not enhance that particular beer. In Restoration Pale, it’s a novel and enjoyable curiosity. In Strawberry Harvest, it’s the thing that makes the beer taste like the melted remnants of a bowl of the best strawberry ice cream you’ve ever had. And in Turbodog? Oh, buddy. We’ll get there. Just wait.

So hey, snow, come on man. What the hell’s this like to drink? I’m glad you asked, other snow. Abita Turbodog pours brown to black with, in your average pint glass, tawny to ruby highlights. The brewery itself insists on calling this beer a dark brown ale, but if this isn’t a BJCP guideline-perfect brown porter, I’ll drink a Crazy Ed’s Cave Creek Chili Beer on the next round. That sweet, clean, flavor we talked about just now? Combines just goddamned perfectly with the roasted dark malt to produce a finish reminiscent of really high-quality maple syrup. This is a full-bodied beer, not crushingly heavy but thick enough to be immensely satisfying both on the palate and in the belly. I did not, however, try butt-chugging.

To avoid any possibility that I might be understating the thesis of this review: I love this beer unreservedly. Sometimes, too often, I’m at the store and I want a porter or stout, and I buy Breckenridge Oatmeal Stout, like a sucker. Now, Breckenridge Oatmeal Stout is steady and simple and delicious. I could drink it every day. Abita Turbodog practically jumps out of the glass compared to Breckenridge Oatmeal Stout. If you are jonesing, as I frequently am, for a black beer that won’t break the bank, won’t ruin your horrifyingly-fast-approaching morning, and/or won’t try to sell you a 22oz bottle or four-pack at a six-pack price, I’ve yet to find anything better, and I’ve been searching for a long, long time. Turbodog is not just a good beer from a popular venerable brewery. It’s one of the best beers there is.

tl;dr: Drink this instead of your favorite milk stout. You’re welcome.

lady snow says: I like it for kind of the same reasons I liked Great Divide Hibernation. It’s got a kind of nutty, almost meaty underlying flavor. It reminds me of a good beef stew in that respect.

make it snow says: Um, holy shit. I feel like that’s an entire dimension of this beer that I never picked up on and completely ignored in this review, but damn, spot-on.

Grade: A++++ FUCK THE HATERS

make it snow is an alot of beer who ran this post because Cuntler hadn’t put anything up yet. make it snow has drunk at least 2000 unique beers in his life, and has drunk four Abita Turbodogs while writing this post. A Beer Review is or is not a recurring feature.