The night is black and the torches flicker in the trade winds drifting over the Indian ocean, and in that relentless heat, the perspiration runs down your brow like the condensation running down your pint. For in this glass you possess an exotic elixir so compelling that the sounds of the surf brushing up the beach disappear as your senses are fully consumed by the dominating malts unraveling their dark roasted grains and toasted mocha toffee. But wait—what is that sensation? Could it be—yes, it is vanilla—a vanilla so fragrant and velvety smooth that it was plucked from a vine in the plantation scarcely illuminated by the starlight above you. Suddenly that tropical heat driving the glistening perspiration along your skin abates, and you are soothed by the soul-encompassing satisfaction of complete refreshment.