Monthly Archives: November 2011

0

Foothills Baltic Porter, North Carolina is Known for Its Nautical Engineering

|

It makes me feel all like Peter the Great, except not a giant savage asshole.

Foothills Baltic Porter, 9% abv

Gold Medal Winner, BEST FUCKING PORTER SO JUST MOVE ON AND DELETE YOUR OLD PORTER’S NUMBER YOU SLUT.

A: This looks like a Porter but with some serious fortitude, not of that cross-over Imperial Stout madness its a big crazy thin porter through and through. The carbonation looks like a haunted ass house, or that last level of Contra. Either way. Deep dark browns, not black, not overly malty, just enough whoppers.

S: The coffee and deep bakers chocolate is present with a strange sweetness finish that seems to accompany in a red wine sort of way. It’s how I would imagine a sassy nana’s mouth to taste.

Thakns a lot North Carolina for making this brewery only. Now these kids never get to have it.

T: The taste delivers things in that gentle southernly Foothill sort of way. It presents a nice tray of chocolate delights, gives a sweet cup of antebellum coffee, coaxes your mane and assures you of simpler times and gives you a gentle exit, feeling fulfilled.

M: The mouthfeel is distinctively porter with a nice clean watery body that delivers a huge flavor without overloading that malty elements. I got this as an extra and it was amazing, especially since Porters are usually the weird artsy twin of the Imperial Stout who usually are all lame and drama nerds. you know the drill. SOCKING NERDS.

Which Porter Should I Take.

D: The drinkability is outrageous and you can put this away like Magic: The Gathering cards when a hot girl comes over. So fast. This is remarkable for the sheer complexity and huge body that it imparts but washes away clean instantly. It’s like some David Blaine ass porter up in this mix.

0

Surly Five, Wild Ale, 8.2% Abv, Baby When The Lights Go Out…It is Dark

|

This beer delivers more than the average forgotten boy band, only more sour.

Well with all the holiday bitterness coming, I figured I would give you some sour delights to placate your cravings for old boy bands.

Surly Five, Anniversary Wild Ale, 8.2%

A: This is a deep dark ruby red with some mild browns at the center, the lacing leaves something to be desired NAMELY MORE LACING. This isn’t granma’s foyer up in this bitch, no cosies, doilies, lacing, or webbing. The lack of carbonation is saddening.

The lack of lacing is more depressing than Sarah McLaughlin commercials

EDIT: The second pour had more foamy goodness, quite unlike those depressing commercials.

S: There is a distinct waft of cherry, tart currants, nail polish remover, and deep merlot. There’s a backend of wet hay and 3rd grade classroom on a rainy day. You know the drill, soaked dirty children.

T: The taste is distinctly tart, with a sour cherry flavor that fades into a red wine tannic finish. The dryness is compensated by a nice clean finish. It feels like a baby Consecration, but a solid Nissan Altima of the sour world. Although I have to say, I am a bit skeptical due to how readily the gentleman who provided me with this amazing beer was ready to part with it. A scholar and a gentleman indeed.

The tartness and limited availability make me suspicious. Just a little too...delicious...

M: The motuhfeel is crisp and swift and leaves a tart jelly jam sourness upon exit. It drinks very well and hides the alcohol like a miserly eastern European. Sometimes the tartness becomes annoying like basically anything with Taylor Lautner in it, but this is pretty tolerable.

D: For the tartness, alcohol, and deep complexity, it is surprisingly gentle. Big old acidic Lenny holds my hand gently while I tell him about the sour cherry rabbits and demonstrate my knowledge of 9th grade English curriculum. Overall, I would buy it again, but I cant, so I dont think I would trade for it again. Not cheap but, there’s just too much beer out there. White people problems.

Gave Surly Five to my cat, it imploded like a Gushers commercial with PURE SOUR RAGE.

Narrative: The POV camera premise just seemed wildly degrading to Tony Wachowski, TRU TV or not. “Alright Wachowski, you’re a loose cannon, and we all know about your rage,” Tony’s captain boomed from his podium during what was probably a morning briefing, I dont know. “So we are putting you on traffic duty, the commissioner is BREATHING DOWN MY ASS ABOUT LAST WEEK!” Tony shifted in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t have rage, and the incident was a series of missteps and unfortunate coincidences. “Hey uh sir, like I told yas, that fruit truck-” “FUCKING FRUIT TRUCK NOTHING WACHOWSKI, you are on meter duty.” I mean really, it would make even the finest officer bitter. Tony could still see that group of five year olds, covered in sticky, smashed cherries. “Sir, can I at least have my firearm back?” “GOD DAMNIT TONY, you are lucky I let you have your REGULAR ARMS.” Ultimately, no one would have predicted that merely tossing a Burt’s Bees chapstick container out the window would have blown out the tread of the fruit cargo freighter, overturn and kill several children, drowning them in sour fruit on the way to the preserves factory. “OH I AM SORRY TONY, the rest of us will wait while you SNACK ON SOME CHERRIES! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.” Tony would never use chapstick again.

0

Dont Spit Into the Wind, Dont Mess Around with Hill Farmstead Jim

|
Big Jim IPA

You Dont Tug On Superman's Cape and You Don't Mess Around With Jim

Don’t pull the mask off the old lone ranger. Seriously.

OH WAIT 11/11/11 at 11:11, GIVE ME A KISS AND MAKE A WISH!

Hill Farmstead Jim, 7.5% Black IPA, aged in Merlot Barrels

A: Hey guys, guess what color this black IPA is? If you said fuschia, you are, absolutely wrong. It is a slick “baby stout” sort of blackness. It’s that sort of gentle blackness that Milton attempted to both embrace and ward away. The head is off white and has a nice contrast the evil darkness below just like JOHN MILTON OH SHIT DID YOU SEE WHAT JUST TOOK PLACE THERE?

S: This is an IPA, through and through. The pine and grass reach out like a bath and body works candle, the citrus notes grapple and strike me like those weird weeds in Ursula’s cave. You know, those weeds…

I love this brewery but this beer tries to have too many fucking specialties. Just be a paladin.

T: The taste is strange, is isn’t quite herbal, it swiftly moves and changes several times while you taste it. It gets a bit of oakiness, then almost a grape or a cinnamon, then returns to its normal pinecone roots and finishes sweet. I have no idea how to approach this changeling. It goes tobacco, carnival, woods, carnival. Which I guess each of those makes sense together. Oh 5th grade.

M: The wine notes at the outset make this a blustering, confusing beer. You get a big wine note that turns into herbs, into a sweetness. The entire experience washes clean, but your conscience remains besmirched. It’s like your old uncle, whom you remember so fondly but now he’s back from the military and gives extra long hugs and is more serious. I don’t know whether to embrace the gravity of this project or to ask for my old friend back.

I dont like it, but I cannot escape its grasp.

D: This is like a Japanese game show in that it is intense, varied, and makes no sense. I don’t know how long you can watch that kinds of craziness but this is just too busy for my taste buds. If they sold this in 6 packs I would see it as a sort of Sartorial punch line rather than a beverage purchase. I don’t know what to make of myself after having tasted this. Maybe I could have been an optometrist, after Jim, who knows.

Narrative: “And you FINAL WISHHHH?” the genie hissed at Clarence Hyrbo amiably. “Well, I mean, I already got this swell wheatgrass farm for my grandfather” he surveyed the verdant pastures and the genie nodded approvingly. “And shucks, I already have this swell Merlot vinery for my grammy,” he ejaculated as the wine fields arose in front of him with sticky sweet grapes, ripe for harvest. The genie rubbed his ethereal palms and hovered entreatingly, “well?” he importuned. Clarence looked left and looked right, and only saw two wasted paradigms of wishes spoiled on human greed. He felt ashamed. His cell phone rang a sweet Creed ringtone and he wondered how to set this all right. “Genie?” Clarence softly uttered, “yes Clarence?” the genie responded gently. “Well, I see now that, every time someone gets a wish, it usually just ends with ironic consequences, like a grandmother overdosing on merlot, or artery problems due to wheatgrass,” the genie nodded solemnly “such is the Genie Code, to provide wishes only with disastrous consequences and life changing realizations but, you’ve hardly even tried yours out yet.” Clarence surverey the fields and firmly stated “GENIE! I want something that will make everyone happy, something that no one will die from, and no one will hate me for.” The genie waved his hands over the South Carolina countryside and the grapes and wheat grass disappeared. In wave after wave, tobacco fields rolled over the verdant pastures. “NOW EVERYONE WILL REMEMBER ME FAVORABLY!” Clarence called and ran all the way to the Charleston homestead which was recently founded

1

Bruery Burly Gourd, oh my gourd, it’s so burly

|

20111110-234852.jpg

This has a nice welcoming baby stout look to it. Lacing that is like a lazy eastern European government, not too oppressive. It smells like a nutmeg bomb went off and the taste is like a watered down punkin pie.

You want to believe Immortals is gonna be good but you have to face the truth, there’s some high moments and a lot of filler. it’s like Thanksgiving leftovers, but nostalgic and tasty.

1

Math Nerds Get Stoked: Exponential Hoppiness, Puns Abound.

|

Flipping the Hoppy Factorial Script. Reducing Polynomials All Up in your Dome Piece.

As if there weren’t enough nerds already into beer, Pythagoream theorum barleywine.

Alpine Exponential Hoppiness, 11.314% abv, Triple IPA

A: nice apple juice color with a bit more darkness, lacing looks like Indian tapestry, nice cumulus head to it. Sick Sierpinski triangle triangle sort of head.

S: Amazing juiciness to the nose with cantaloupe, orange rind, grapefruit, freshly cut grass. A great hybrid between citrus and herbal dryness. It’s like you splashed Andre all over a whole foods. Sick cuvee bro.

Oh wait, a triple IPA with a huge hoppy character, hold on let me call science.

T: There is a faint tart note at the outset, a huge pinecone middle to it, and a mellow orange taste at the end. It looks like a parabola of taste values, graphed over a 3 second interval. AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO THE INVERSE!

M: The mouthfeel is incredibly light and clean. This is definitely not a malt bomb and it is incredibly accomplished as a result. It makes me rap the keys on this keyboard balefully at the frustrating “brewery only” distribution of this beer. This ranks in the top 5 IPAs that I have ever had. It gently rubs shoulders with Ephraim and Dreadnaught with the utmost respect.

I want more of this but it comes out once a year. Halp.

D: If the other sections didn’t clench the “A” review, this certainly nails it on all fronts. This is more drinkable than any lager or “refreshing” wheat beer that I have ever had and it just performs on every level. The alcohol is a lurking ninja that strikes steadily removing your faculties one by one in artful ways. Bottle limits and unavailability are the natural predators of this base level of the beer food chain. That metaphor really didn’t put the applesauce on the pork chops so let me directly state that this is amazing and the average person is lucky that this treacherous beer remains elusive.

This beer is amazing. Darkwing Duck Amazing. Not Launchpad McQuack amazing.

Narrative: “Well well well, Mr. Jensen what do we have here in the bed of this raggedy old Toyota Tacoma? Let’s see, 1000w bulb, 32 temperature controlled pots, nitric fixated soil blends, and a series of 4 multiage fans. Quite the project we have here hm?” Spencer Jensen felt a single bead of sweat percolate on his brow. “It’s just. . .not what it looks like?” “Oh I am sure, looks like someone is about to become a botany major hm? A little science fair experiment?” Spencer blocked the door to his cellar and stammered out a series of incomprehensible excuses. “You see, my mom she enjoys gardening, but no, I mean well we all are starting a fruit garden but the soil, it isn’t quite ri-” Officer Worthington pushed past Spencer and proceeded down the cellar steps. “Oh yeah, great place for a fruit garden down here in this insulated ro-” The flashlight dragged across the floor to a massive lupus hop cone that appeared be aspirating. “WHAT THE-” A single centennial hop vine lashed across the room and entwined Officer Worthington, overpowering him. “NO EXPO! NO! LET HIM GO!” Sticky hop oils filled the room and dripped all over the officer’s clothing, making him smell like a 7th grade TOOL fan. “BURGGHHHHERHRH” Expo pulled the body into the center of the cone, grinding him into a sticky herbaceous pulp. Spencer Jensen had quite the secret to keep indeed.

0

Smuttynose Barleywine, tuck a napkin in your shirt just straight barleywhining like that

|

20111109-223725.jpg

This is pretty legit, but nothing to get all stoked on. You can leave the stoke safety on. There’s some caramel malt, some booziness, and light maple oaky flavor. It’s like sure, a regular Subaru impreza is nice but, it won’t make a FIDM or OTIS girl all jazzed. You need Duke Ellington for that shit.

It’s a reliable, easy to handle, boozy mess, like dating a coed from the SEC schools. Just don’t set your sights too high, lens crafters up in the cut like what.

1

Mikkeller Black Hole, scotch whisky barrel aged, the worst beer of the year. A winrar is this.

|

This beer is horrible, avoid at all costs. Finally a beer to adequately represent this website. Do not drink this beer.

It tastes like giving a smooch to your drunk old highlander grandpa. The bubbles are a vile scorching oak taste like popov and nair on your mouth. It’s a scorching oral douche that has no place outside of the hateful island from whence it came.

20111109-221139.jpg

Seriously, I can safely say that, with the aroma, taste, and mouthfeel of this abomination, it doesn’t matter what style that this beer is, it is a chimera of testicle assaults. Ok, so I open it up, it smells like peat, dirt, home depot fertilizer, a rented van, Okla-, well, just horrible. It looks nice enough until she opens her mouth, just petulant candor and despicable things. The foam alone tastes like someone took a swig of Cutty Sark while smoking a cigar and spit it in your mouth.

I can’t underscore this enough, do not pay the $12.99 for this 12oz bottle, dont let anyone buy this for you, this is seriously the absolute worst beer that I have ever tasted.

My face was all like this after only 5oz.

0

Total Eclipse of the Stout, 50/50 Imperial Eclipse Stout, Evan Williams’ -bals

|

A Total Eclipse of the Stout

Astronomy getting all twisted like a bag of ropes.

Imperial Eclipse 50/50 Brewing Co, Imperial Stout, 9.5% abv, aged in Evan Williams Barrels

A: Not the hardest convict on the block, nice oiliness but not unapproachable. It has a good carbonation that flees cell block 50/50 immediately. There is a nice lacing that sticks around looking all like Mervyn’s cargo shorts.

S: Holy hell, the bourbon has still not settled down at all. This smells like whiskey, oak and raisins all the way down. This doesn’t come across like those tame ass raisins in barley wines either. I mean angry California Raisins after years of being portrayed as a racist demagogues. That sort of pissed.

T: The bourbon shows up immediately and opens the door for a series of cronies, each one more hateful than the last. Filing in succession we get coffee, wearing an eye patch, raisin, brandishing a switchblade, and the mute, fig, silent but deadly with the sais. What a band of rogues this barrel assembled for my palate.

M: It is not overly filling but it is still intimidating given the panoply of items being presented. I don’t feel like I need to sign over the title deed to my tongue, but it certainly is implied. The coating is nice and similar to a breakfast stout until bourbon comes rolling in and busting up the place. If my tongue owned a PS3, he would be smashing it. Now where am I gonna find another copy of bourbon barrel Katamari Damasi on such short notice?

D: Well given the fact that my mouth feels like an oil refinery, I would say “not very.” This feels like a barrel crude oil and not in that cool Abyss ‘09 way. This just feels dangerous like I shouldn’t smoke around it. I don’t care about the different versions, there is something inherently insane about this beer. Some might opine “oh this cousin cuts himself LESS” but that doesn’t matter, it is still patently insane. Usually I would complain about the abv but here it is just the execution. It is like someone with ADD was in charge of the secondaries and my palate is a proximate victim. Coffee splash damage +24.

Narrative: The life of an oil refinerist was not glamorous, hell, it wasn’t even recognized by Google as a legitimate profession. That didn’t stop Slick Crudework. His parents almost named him knowing his future prospects, but that is a story for another time. He had been the overseer at the Mobil platform #42 in Long Beach for as long as he could remember but he didn’t mind it at all. Slick would come into the local AMPM covered in sludge and the recalcitrant Korean man would yell at him but, hey, if not for Slick, would those pumps be pushing out overpriced unleaded for Mini Cooper owners to feel good about themselves? Probably not. “A 211, some henny, and some Listerine strips.” The truth was that Slick did not even want these items, he had heard E40 order these items in a song and wanted to seem relevant. The Korean shop keep presented them to him balefully. He followed his own mucky steps out to his car. Sure everyone thought he was a drunk and overpowering, but who really was the crude boss in this bossocracy? That’s what I thought.

0

Peeper American Pale Ale, Maine Beer Company, Peeping So Hard Right Now

|
Jeepers Creepers Stop Peeping

Jeepers Creepers Why You Peeping So Hard?

Not since Ma$e have so many been Peeped upon so hard.

Maine Beer Company, Peeper, American Pale Ale, 5.5% ABV

A: There is a deep gold hue to this beer with tons of foamy white carbonation. There’s some lacing but it is a pretty standard affair, you pretty much know what you’re getting when you buy a Pennywise album. Ironically, this isn’t a beer that I would be peeping on all hard. It is an average outing

S: This beer smells of sweet pine, orange zest, mild pie crust and some light honey. I am accustomed to being olfactory raped by IPAs and DIPAs so this is more of a pleasant walk in the park with an old sweetheart. A sweetheart who gently rubs sweet honey and grapefruit all over your nostr- man, this Pale Ale talk is getting all salacious all of a sudden.

T: This is a pale ale but the maltiness and grapefruit notes make me believe in my heart of hearts that this started as an IPA, but hey, who am I to point hop cones? There’s a really nice breadiness and sweet juicy hop profile that makes this a very relaxing beer to drink. The taste is honestly not that complex but Paper Mario wasn’t a complex game and I enjoyed that so, hey, there’s an inapposite analogy to stick in your cap.

M: This is extremely light and as soon as the flavor is imparted, it scurries off like a Quaker prom date, with no additional fulfillment in store. That isn’t to say that this is somehow deficient, it is just overly EFFicient. Maybe linger around for a bit Pale Ale, watch Just Friends starring Ryan Reynolds at my place? No romancing for this Pale Ale.

D: This is easily this beer’s selling point. It is incredibly refreshing and just extends an entreating hand to pull you along lovingly gulp after gulp. I would almost, this is a strong almost, prefer this to Blind Pig, if only because it is more session able, albeit less memorable.

Narrative: “And therefore, the ignoble pursuits set forth within the ambit of ideals encapsulated in Kratos’s actions in God of War, is therefore, anything but godlike. Thank you.” Walter Currington concluded his opening statement at the Video Game Ethics convention. Not a single eye was left dry after his classic appeals to G.E. Moore with regards to Earthbound and the delicately woven parallels between Banjo Kazooey and Sartre seemed entirely organic. Rick shifted in his chair, “RICK! It’s….your turn….” the grand ballroom of the Radisson seemed entirely empty as casual gamer Rick strode to the podium and placed his Bubbilicious on the handrail on his way up. “I don’t need a lot, I don’t ask for a ton from my games and well, my life.” The crowd hushed intently and paused for his famous Epicurean defense of casual gaming. “Truth is, I was going to come up here and defend who I was, and talk about the simplicity of Peggle and Farmville but…” he scanned the room with his piercing blue eyes, “the truth is, you don’t need an ethical system to tell you what’s good, just go with it.” The crowd waited a beat and burst into applause. “HE HAS JUST REVOLUTIONIZED INTERSUBJECTIVE ETHICS FOR CASUAL VIDEO GAMES,” one excited attendee commented as Rick coolly passed by. Rick had been coming to these things for the free food and gave a couple simple speeches about “Kinect or Wii or whatever, and people just get all into it, and that’s fine, I just want to be a fun guy to have around, not be all serious.” After revolutionizing ethical systems, Rick piled into his Chevy Aveo and put a Smashmouth CD on.

0

Ale Asylum, Bedlam Belgian ale 7.5% abv

|
Ale Asylum Bedlam

Soddom. Gomorrah. Bedlam.

Ale Asylum Bedlam Belgian IPA

A: It looks like a cross between a standard IPA and a Belgian Golden. You get some yellowing and some moderate hazy light amber tones but the appearances seems pretty tame. The lacing on the side of the glass is like a haunted house and grips the entire way down. It’s like all those death scenes in lame ass 80’s movies with people falling.

S: Citra hop hell. This escaped like a virulent herbal genie when I opened the bottle. You get the Yosemite forest with pine and crisp conifers and then the tangerine and citric notes follow swiftly, it smells incredible. It feels like Pliny the Elder at Christmas time. This beer is 2 legit to quit on the hop presence.

T: The taste has very little of the juicy notes in the smell. At the outset your get the herbal aspects that the high alpha acid hops produce, but then, like a child left after tee ball practice, the hops abandon you to the company of a circumspect Belgian man. His Vanover smells of sweet turbinado sugar but, bineg a child you trust it through and through. Ultimately, no candy is provided.

M: It is light and crisp, I should underscore that it is still a great beer, albeit a bit deceiving on the old hop profile. You could give this to basically anyone and they would love you for it. Unless you live in California, don’t give this away, save these for yourself, they can buy their own Sculpin.

D: The Belgian hardly slows down the traction on these tires, this beer is meant for hot weather and dry heats. Why it is distributed in humid, low temperature places is beyond me but I also can’t understand why people from the east coast wear North Face jackets to bars, so the ideas are congruent. Ultimately you can drink this high ABV, tasty beer ridiculously fast, you can play beer pong with it, you can load it into some Home Depot tube and kill it; the only troubling aspect is your friends healt- I can’t even get that out seriously. Drink this swift and fast.

Narrative: Hermes languished on Mount Cyllene kicking rocks idly in his path. “Ah Hermes, what’s gotcha lookin so long in the gums?” Argos asked, consoling with his many eyes. “Aw jeez Argos, I just got all this old speed and no one seems to want to get that wasted anymore.” “Oh?” Argus questioned with a series of tilted brows. “Yeah, here I was, getting all these people sufficiently drunk and all of a sudden, they cut my distribution to the lower Mediterranean, can you believe that? Then here I am just stuck to kick rocks with a bunch of Stoics, holy hams and eggs!” Hermes folded his arms and felt the power that he wielded. His speed could intoxicate a mortal man several times over. As a concession, he delivered an Edible Arrangement to the failing economy of Greece and hoped that they would continue to drink themselves into oblivion. “The EURO is strong with this one” Poseidon remarked and proceeded to destroy another coastal town, insouciantly.