Hoppy as hell, and delicious as hell if that’s your thing. But the canned version doesn’t do Furious its full justice.
Out of the tap, it’s like eating a grapefruit while strolling through an evergreen forest. Out of the can it’s bitter Fresca. So do this: Go to a bar that has Furious on tap and get it alongside a plate of extra-spicy Buffalo wings. Bring a spare pair of knickers.
Though I must insist, Furious’s awesomenessness doesn’t justify standing like a rube next to a biffy at the ass end of an mile-long line to the Surly brew review table to the neglect of every other beer on the premises. You know who you are.