Through a dark forest, across a rotting drawbridge, in a dusty castle, there is an altar. On this syrup-stained altar are remnants of decadent treats from days’ past – candy bars, fresh pastries, splotches of powdered sugar. All have been offered, cordially, to those who delight in the gustation of such sweet treats.

This offering we make to you is a pitch black Imperial Stout loaded loaded to the brim with rich fudge and toasty pistachio. It has the texture of a melting ice cream sundae on a moonless night and the complexity of hedge maze made by a madman.