Terrapin Sun Ray Wheat Beer, An Evil Genius From Georgia Has Constructed a Sun Death Ray- in Ale Form.

I like Terrapin. I am not the biggest fan of hefs. So who will win this tug of war? Maybe people from hot humid ass areas know how to work that wheat stalk? It worked for Live Oak, let’s see if they can bust some thistles in today’s review.

Buy a Tool poster, some incense, move to Athens, Georgia and get hella into toasting wheat.

Terrapin Beer Company
Georgia, United States
Hefeweizen | 4.50% ABV

A: Cloudy tangerine color, nice radiance to it, looks like Hi-C but with murkiness to it. Carbonation could use some work and the lacing is non-present but, for the style, that’s not a deal breaker. Again, it is like a sun ray in a glass, but the sun can also burn your eyes during a lunar eclipse so, there’s also that.

When I first popped open this bottle the radiance emerged, blasting my corneas to dust. The sun doesn’t fuck around.

S: Tons of nectarines and tangerines, a bit of a chemical tartness detected, but that could be from a variety of things. Obviously a huge wheat profile with biscuity cornbread notes. If you’ve been the hef rodeo, this is a solid bull that will get up on your orange haunches and give you a solid buck to your wheatstones.

T: The initial taste is sweet like a tangerine with a bit of orange hidden at the back, it fades into a foamy wheat profile that is expected but what really is noteworthy is the way that it just resonates for days with a genuine citrus note. This isn’t a citra/simcoe false citrus, this is like they actually squeezed it into the beer or something and it is really fantastic. This is a bit chewier than I desire for the style but that’s not to say that this is some malt bomb by any means.

A sun beer for people who are constantly punished by the sun. The irony of nature is not lost on me.

M: I love the way the feel coats but just exits like a 7th grade drama student, promptly but making a lot of noise off stage. The juicy notes just sustain like a telecaster note. The hops are incredibly subtle as though they are a kinda of a negligent babysitter letting the citrus profile just run rampant. Overall, very accomplished wheat beer. Particularly since I find this style to be shallow and pedantic.

D: This is incredibly drinkable. I can only assume that they sell this in the south in no smaller than 30 packs given how fast it can be consumed on a hot day. I don’t even own a Mustang 5.0, but drinking this beer makes me want one to work on. I don’t even have to be doing anything, just lay under a mid-80’s mustang with this beer complaining about corporate fat cats. It’s that kind of crisp refreshness.

If you take down about 9 of these, you will feel like a complete hard ass, but then again, if you take down 9 hefs in session, you are probably an overweight Sigma Kappa anyway.

Narrative: Walter Burrs was the sweatiest turtle in the Splishy Wallows. His course obese hide spilled through the furroughs of his shell. “Hey….:::wheeze:: hey fellas…how’s the algae bed today?” The others groaned as he pushed his wide carapace in between them. “Whew, hot one out there today!” he bemoaned his thick fat terrapin breasts rubbing against the face of his peers. “Even the algae is warm” his sticky plastron rubbed against the others, making them exceedingly uncomfortable. “God damnit, it isn’t even hot! Why is he such a sticky fat bastard?” “Myommm nom nom” he exhaled while swallowing, his brow wet with a sticky, acidic sweatiness, his mouth covered in wheat grainy goodness. “Later we should go to the rive-zzzzz” he sticky hot breath billowed across the group as he passed into a grain coma.

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