You can see at first glance, it's not so bad. Actually, it's sort of a pleasant label, good fonts, nice pleasing colors, mostly legible. It has a femininity to the art and an overall curious appeal. So, you buy it, take it home, chill it, and eventually pour yourself a glass. But while you're pouring this refreshing beverage, you give the bottle a little twist. The lines draw your eye to the right, following that strange curve to its terminus. And then what the fluffy hell are you looking at? It's the goddam Grim Reaper seemingly stuffing flowers in your beer. Or is it? Scratch that surface even a tiny bit, and what you've got there is a picture of the Grim Reaper stroking his bone and jizzing all over the name of the beer.
Go look for yourself. I'll wait.
You see that shit? What the hell, No Label Brewing Co.? Was this lable worth abandoning what is clearly the basic conceit of your brewery?
And look at that smirk on Grimmy... He knows. He knows you're looking. He knows what you see. And he loves it. Now that he caught you staring, he's going to "finish the whole bottle," if you get my meaning. What a perv.
Surprisingly, the Jizz Beer of Death is pretty good. Maybe long-holing those stems is a great way to pack some flavor into a beer. The methods are clearly questionable, but the results are great.
The label describes it as a "wit style ale brewed with lavender," which doesn't really describe what's going on here, flavor-wise. The fist thing to hit you is the smell, light, but defined lavender (slightly on the soapy side). Next the flavors of sweet malt, herb-y lavender, and maybe even a bit earthy on the finish all float across the palate on little happy bubbles. It's good. I like it. Be warned, though: this is definitely a chick beer. This is even more of a chick beer than Dos Equis, which is the very definition of a chick beer.
My plan is to one day buy another bottle of this Forbidden Lavender, chill it good and cold in the far-far-Narnia-back of the fridge where no one will ever see it, turn out all the lights, and pour my beer into my chilled glass under cover of darkness, sneak into my waiting pillow fort and enjoy another one of these beer as quietly as possible. You can join me, if you don't tell nobody, OK.
