A complete strikeout.
No, not Clemens on Bonds - 2 hyper-doped all-stars talking smack - but a ball that'll bowl you over like lefty Rhino Page throwing some serious man-weight, hookin' it from the Xtreme opposite side & just hits the head pin on the nose with a shot that could've knocked down 20 of 'em instead of just 10. While you're floored & finished, it keeps rolling deep in the pocket towards its next victims.
Appearance 5 / 5
|Color:||ash brown; dim maroon tint|
|Surface:||impeccable mold & impression|
Aroma 5.8 / 10
suffocating: burnt spice rack originally crafted from cedar & palm woods, once housing cinnamon, coriander, mace, & black pepper -> coconut butter melted like so much plastic over leather-backed furniture + tossed coffee grounds
Mouthfeel 14.6 / 15
|Texture:||fantastically massive, churned butter only serves to heighten cruelty by making you a glutton for punishment - it's that round|
|Melt:||supreme, except for PoliGrip-strength denture-adhesive astringency at the finish|
Flavor 16.3 / 50
swings the hammer on a raw, undeveloped move - flat-out mono-line bitter; no avenging angel w/ under/overtones to the rescue... lockstep, a straight downward spiral into the accelerating depths, nothing but off-balanced bitterness arousing bottomless fear... until aft-palate some grisly char-broiled beef blood rains down from the gullet above, heavy in iron & copper -> liver & other intestinal innards buried in the death dance of ashes; no uplift whatsoever, just ceaseless debasement
Quality 4.7 / 20
Offal; when in doubt, fry it. Dysfunctional on every level - from cleaning to conching. Horrendously qwik devolution, paradoxically never quits. Irrespective of M.O., underlying flags indicate compromised batch, poor bean selection, & hasty post-harvest methods. In other words, land-fill.