Steel Reserve 211

Steel Brewing Co

USA

This big ol' steel-colored 24 oz can of malt-liquor goodness came from my local Circle K. It was purchased (for $1.09) after Kris more or less dared me. When I brought it to young lady behind the counter, she asked, "Have you ever had this?" (umm, no) She, of course, said, "It's good. I really like it... a lot, and I'm not a beer fan." So, now I've got to live with the fear that I have a whackjob working 1 mile away who really likes this. I, on the other hand, did not; I tried it when I was three sheets to the wind, when I probably would've tried turpentine on a dare. Due to a cup malfunction, we were only able to split 12 ounces between us. Which is why I'm alive to write this today. Before drinking, one should take the advise of Roger Daltry..."If I swallow anything evil, put your finger down my throat."

Reviewed: April 03, 2004

Rating: 0/10

It wasn't a dare. I was thirsty, and noticed this was cheaper than bottled water. Boy, what a mistake. Next time I think I'll just stick to the water that collects at the bottom of trash dumpsters, which is not any different than this crud, but at least it's free.

Reviewed: April 03, 2004

Rating: 0/10

I'm reviewing this beer from memory, but I assure you it's a vivid memory. My stomach's cramping as I write this. I remember seeing this in squatty little bottles, and on closer inspection, I noted the 8% alcohol. So I took home a six-pack. Wrong! Holy cats, this stuff is putrid. The first sip made my sideburns draw right up on top of my head. My eyes watered and my ears rang. After a few more sips, when I literally began to break a cold sweat, I realized I had to pour this out if I wanted to live. There is a very real possibility I may have foreshortened my life expectancy after being exposed to this. I tried hard to foist the rest of this six-pack off on unsuspecting friends. Unfortunately, on a foolish few fell for it, so I still have--to this day--two bottles left. By now I could probably stick a hankey in the top, light it, and have a pretty decent Molotov cocktail. Now, if the gang-bangers and the little college boys who fancy themselves tough wanna duct tape their paws to this and run around playing "Edward Forty-Hands", then more power to them. Myself, I'd rather remain on speaking terms with my liver. Avoid this cancer at all costs. Too bad I can't give it negative mugs.

Reviewed: August 06, 2005

Rating: 0/10

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