In the world of craft beer, some bottles whisper and others proclaim. Then there are those, like Feral Bones from Structures Brewing, that don’t so much arrive as make an entrance, kicking the wall in like a feral Kool-Aid man promising something untamed. This imperial stout is from Bellingham, Washington—a city with a brewing scene that consistently punches above its weight—and it comes with a formidable history: a full 14 months spent napping in Buffalo Trace bourbon barrels, followed by a long, deep nap with cacao nibs and toasted coconut.
The first hint of this beer’s true nature comes with the pour. Heed this advice: pour it carefully. As we discovered, a thick layer of sediment lies in wait at the bottom of the can, a reminder of the unfiltered, adjunct-heavy process. Unless you enjoy a bit of extra, shall we say, texture in your glass, it’s best to let that final half ounce stay behind in the can. In the glass, it’s not quite as eternally dark like many of its style-brethren. It eschews the typical motor-oil black for a softer, deep mahogany hue with ruby edges.
The aroma doesn’t just hint; it broadcasts a glorious, high-fidelity wave of toasted coconut. This isn’t the saccharine, artificial scent of so many, but the real, nutty, and deeply roasted article, the kind you’d get from holding flakes over a flame yourself. Supporting that is a sturdy plank of oak from its long barrel slumber, a foundational note that’s both rustic and reassuring. It’s an inviting, honest, and genuinely exciting smell that promises quality.
On the tongue, that toasted coconut takes center stage and delivers a command performance. It is the undeniable star of the show, imparting a full, nutty flavor that is, most importantly, satisfyingly dry. Feral Bones brilliantly sidesteps the sugar trap that so many ambitious coconut stouts stumble into. The cacao nibs emerge not as a flood of sweetness, but as a subtle, earthy bitterness—a welcome and sophisticated counterpoint, more akin to shaved, high-quality dark chocolate than a melted candy bar. And the bourbon? The Buffalo Trace barrels offer a polite warmth, a well-mannered guest that lends a gentle, spicy complexity without ever shouting over the other ingredients. One of our tasters, it must be said, wished for a more prominent bourbon presence to stand up to the beer’s name, but this is a minor quibble in what is an otherwise remarkably harmonious glass.
But the real trick, the feat of genuine brewing artistry that Feral Bones pulls off, is its surprising lightness of being. Imperial Stouts as a category are defined by their heft. They are the heavyweights, often thick, syrupy, and palate-coating, demanding a slow, deliberate approach. This beer defies that expectation entirely. It sips with the impossible ease of a far lighter beer, a dangerous and delightful quality that keeps you coming back. It doesn’t dominate your palate and hang around until you wash it off; instead, Structures has delivered a beer that masterfully balances its considerable strength with a deceptive, almost graceful agility.
This is clever, confident brewing. Structures, a brewery known for its often gothic-metal leanings and exploration of styles from hazy IPAs to rustic farmhouse ales, has crafted something special here. Feral Bones is potent, yes, but it’s also remarkably approachable and genuinely, effortlessly enjoyable. In a crowded field of imperial stouts vying for attention with ever-bolder adjuncts and higher ABVs, Feral Bones may not be on your radar, but it absolutely should be. It’s a well-crafted beer that speaks clearly of its quality, earning its place not through brute force, but through genuine character and impressive balance. It’s one you’ll want to find.
A final note to Structures: the beer is an utter triumph; the label’s nearly invisible and impossible-to-read font, less so. Just a thought.
