Flattish opening seems watery, lacking depth on initial impact. But mildly hop-embittered mahogany body picks up steam and never looks back. Bourbon-soaked milk chocolate, vanilla, and roasted coffee midst proves elegant. Delicate black cherry, espresso, walnut, and dark floral illusions settle beneath. Compelling bourbon whiskey finish seals the deal.

Caramel-burnt black chocolate sway enriches maple-sapped sweetness to butternut bottom as briskly citric-hopped water crisping softens flow. Recessive mocha finish picks up wood-charred oats-toasted buttering.

Intriguing black velvety oatmeal stout with 11% alcohol perk juxtaposes hop-charred oat-toasted graining against milky chocolate-cocoa malting up-front. Brown sugared Baker’s chocolate illusions rise above tertiary vanilla bean, anise, molasses, tobacco, and tar notes as well as black cherry puree tartness. Dry espresso coffee informs oncoming fudge cookie finish ’til warm bourbon aftertaste beckons.

Robust mahogany dry stout gains lactic chocolate malt creaminess above black cherry tartness and coffee bean bitterness, forging superb black mocha assertion. Hop-roasted  oats toasting begets latent wood-smoked char.

Busy black velvety tan-headed Oatmeal Stout/ Imperial Stout blend retains strong black coffee bittering and milky mocha creaminess to leathered bourbon-burgundy finish. Toasted oats reinforce wood-charred dry cocoa, black chocolate, maple sap, and sticky anise penetration. Bitter ice coffee midst picks up resin-hopped vanilla bean, chicory, espresso, and tar illusions. On tap at End Of Elm, richer coffee affluence and darker chocolate influence received moderate hazelnut-roasted walnut char.

From the Great White North comes this sturdy black-hued brown-headed brisk-watered hop-toasted stout. Sweet mocha barleymalt richness, honeyed oats essence, and mineralized cereal graining enliven silken ash tongue. Not nearly as heavy as mahogany appearance indicates, yet second only to heralded Samuel Smith’s Oatmeal Stout.

Creamy black chocolate-espresso frontage never thickens, but charred hops and toasted grains forge lusty bitterness overriding murmured black cherry tang.

New Mexican brewers’ bottled selections obviously lose luster after initial swigs. Case in point: the up-front coffee ground banter and roasted cashew-walnut ebb of this listless dry-bodied moderation never retain traction, instead leaving sooty astringency.