Though we typically strive for balance in our beers, even we, on occasion, succumb to the allure of excess. The former shipwrights of Mare Island often cackle as they mention the “Big ‘Freakin’ Hammer.” Literally, it was the final-resort tool for the bent panel, the stuck motor, the rusted bolt. Figuratively, it took on a whole new meaning. The blow torch instead of the lighter. The cannon instead of the gun. Destroyer dallying? —send in the battleship. Do whatever it takes, no finesse, no subtlety. Highly extracted, high octane, and not for the faint of heart… we present this liquid B.F.H.