Monthly Archives: December 2011

0

Three Floyd’s Pride and Joy, Not sure if false advertising.

|

It's not exactly prideful, but it can lead to mild joy.

This beer is incredibly tame and sessionable, like how I can watch like 51 episodes of Millionaire Matchmaker in a row and feel all shitty about myself and need to make up something that I did over the weekend on Monday. It has a nice hoppy pine presence that is balanced with the light cracker taste from the malt. They should sell these in 3L bottles, my single bottle was gone almost immediately, no complaints though, BREWS GONNA GET DRILLED, that’s how it goes in the wasteland. The little peppery citrus notes and great for sipping in a paper bag near your local YMCA.

This is a good beer. Picture unrelated.

0

Cigar City Guava Grove, Honduran Kisses for All the Children

|

It's like that time you stole guavas from that Bolivian guy and he cried a single hateful tear.

Cigar City Brewing, Guava Grove Saison, 8% abv

Ok Cigar City has a serious naming problem, you open this up and it is way closer to an American Wild Ale than a saison. Identity crisis. You get a huge waft of pineapple, guava, melon, and great musky yard clippings. The taste has an amazing acidity and I could drink this all day. This is a great beer to mix up with your creatine, n0x and glutamine to get a sick juiced pump before a workout. But in all seriousness, the tartness and drying finish makes this almost akin to a white wine but with a dope ass malty complexity.

Tank a whole bottle of this to your domepiece and you'll be posted like a wet hedgehog. Super chill.

0

Cigar City Brewing, Either/Or, Soren Kierkegaard is So Pissed Rite Now Guize.

|

Oh I get it, Either and Or are the same beer, existential paradigm shift FOR MAXIMUM LULZ!

Cigar City Brewing, 11% abv Black Ale

This should just calls itself a stout and stop lying to its parents. It has a nice malty chocolate smokiness to it with a fantastic clean finish. I really like the tobacco notes within the malt. The beer stole some notes from Schelling’s Philosophy of Revelation and it seems like Either/Or is brewed with the one recipe Soren Kierkegaard used in the mid-1800’s. You know? It’s like on one hand we have a beer from Florida, renowned for hedonism, then we have the rest of the country, inclined to careful reflection. BUT I STILL WANT TO MASH ON THIS. An inherent dichotomy presents itself.

I would def. recommend picking this up and sharing it with some of your hippy friends and watch the metaphysical arguments spin out of control.

this beer didn't solve Problem of Evil inherent in existence, NOT EVEN MAD THO.

0

Telegraph Brewing Gypsy Ale, GYPSY CURSES ABOUND

|

Telegraph Gypsy ale, the perfect beer to take with you before you move to Hungary and begin an Oliver Twist career of pickpocketing handkerchiefs.

Telegraph Gypsy Ale, 8% abv, American Wild Ale

This beer has a nice tartness to it with a sour cherry and grape tannin note to it that is crisp but juicy at the same time, like Lil B’s intricate rap verses. There’s a rad plum taste that I shared with some bros while watching a Cal game, they told me that it tasted like juice, WHICH IS PRETTY OKAY.

I would read again, 5/5, recommend to casual acquaintance. Move to Romania, start slanging plums.

This beer had a good idea, but took some missteps in execution.

0

The Bruery Run BMC

|

I drank the first half in a legit fashion, then played beerpong with the other half. Patrick Rue would be proud. THE BRINGBACKS WERE NOT INSUBSTANTIAL.

The Bruery Run BMC Imperial Pilsner, 7% abv

This beer is a slap in the face to the bud/miller/coors (BMC) kids for several reasons: first, it gets you pretty twisted for a pilsner, it is QUADRUPLE HOPPED, comes in a fancy bottle, and you can’t drink it while on a lake. This has all the great qualities of horrible adjunct lager, but then improved across the board with a great biscuit taste and huge hoppy finish that almost dominates the pilsner aspect. Still a sick redcupper for your bros to drill if one of you just bowled a 200 game or some shit.

This beer is uplifting to people's common conceptions of pilsners and sets a new standard.

0

Narragansett Summer Ale, for those about to Sum sum.

|

Did you ever see that movie Contact with Jodie Foster? This beer is about as exciting as that shit.

Nothing really to explain here, it’s a watery, canned, kinda depressing sort of beer. You get a wheat, grassy, grainy taste and then it is over. The perfect beer to enjoy while experiencing an awkward silence with your stepdad on a fishing trip.

I always get these as extras and I am not sure if other people drink these or just pass them on to me to break my balls. It’s like so many other things that the sheer ph7 neutral is difficult to describe. Listen to some Dishwalla or Deep Blue Something while drinking this.

The sheer reality of this beer is simple, but strangely distressing.

0

New Glarus Berliner Weiss, Some Words to the Weis- ARGH

|

I figured since it is the last day of the year, might as well burn out some sick terse reviews to tie up loose ends before another 365 days of telling people not to drink beer.

Here goes:

Wisconsin meets Berlin, with sick results.

This beer is pretty legit, nice tartness with a musky hay funk to the nose. I could session this beer so hard, were I to have any leaves to rake, I would be all over this. There’s a lemon zest and since it is retired, YOU CAN TASTE THE RARE. I guess rare tastes a bit like a sour cheese finish.

This beer is sadly gone, retired, and not easy to come by anymore. colon left parenthesis. Serious gravity.

0

Three Floyd’s Bourbon Barrel Vanilla Bean Aged Dark Lord, The Hnngs are substantial

|

Even while sweet and vanilla, this is still the darkest of lords.

Three Floyd’s Vanilla Aged Dark Lord, 15% abv Imperial Stout

A: The appearance is a deep murky dark brown with wispy light carbonation, but again, I didn’t obtain this in the most legitimate manner, so that likely has something to do with it. The booziness it huge and coats in clear angry strands.

S: There is an incredible vanilla sweetness like a fresh macaroon or vanilla frap. Amazing chocolate and coffee notes support the back end, there’s a waft of huge heat to this that stings the nostrils with a deep heat.

This picture is the complete opposite of Vanilla Dark Lord: smooth, hot, sweet, interesting.

T: The initial taste is incredibly sweet with intense vanilla. The vanilla integrates seamlessly and the sweetness isn’t cloying like the normal Darklord. It is a complete improvement on the old formula. Why in the world that they don’t bottle this is beyond me. There is an amazing coffee and burnt chocolate taste to this beer that just lingers on and on. It like a kiss from an eskimo, who somehow has coffee and chocolate with him.

M: The mouthfeel is like the old school Darklord with an intense heat to it, sticky coating, and lasting sweetness that inherits your mouth in fee simple. It isn’t going anywhere any time soon. This is a good thing since the bold mouthfeel is incredible and welcome just nestled in my molars. My dentist doesn’t approve but HE IS NOT THE BOSS OF ME.

You just wish every beer could be like this beer.

D: Oddly, for a crazy 15% abv stout, this is somehow drinkable. I wish that I had a huge serving of this amazing rare beer, but I dont have the means to perpetually land this crazy beast. I love the sweet heat of this and can only look at Vanilla Darklord as he speeds away with his hand pressed against the back window of the stationwagon as it speeds away, away from my tiny heart.

Narrative: I can’t even write a narrative because my maltboner is at full attenuation. This is insanely good and top 10 stout for sures.

0

Fantôme Pissenlit saison, DRINKIN, PISSEN, GETTING LIT. Painful.

|

Ok, so this beer is another ghost asshole from Fantome, they make saisons and that’s about it. It’s like Cheech Marin’s character in From Dusk Til Dawn, but its…er…saisons for them. Sloppy saisons, wet saisons, you get the drill.

Fantome bottles aren't the same without that menacing ghost on them, hell, Bill Murray, even Ghostface Killah would have sufficed.

Fantome Pissenlit, 8% abv

A: Radiant bright yellow hue with a huge cumulus ass head that fantome always imparts (the secret ingredient is ghost.) It kinda reminds me of pineapple Fanta, if anyone has had that obscure soda. There you go.

This beer winner, but something is a bit lost in translation.

S: This has the classic ghostly funk, but this time it seems a bit ratcheted back, a poised charlatan ghost who stinks of freshly cut grass and foggy rhododendrons. You know the type, giving out the same fake cell phone and name.

T: This is fantome all the way with a nice funkiness up front that imparts pears in a huge way, nice red apple (not like in a diacetyl hater way) and finishes with a kinda tart white grape sort of finish. It’s all pretty simple, like the cast of My So Called Life, BUT SO DEEP IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Fantome always puts out beers that feel classy, yet primal at the same time, spoiler: Boo Radley is putting shit in the tree. Take that cat.

M: This is really thin and crisp, like biting into an anjou pear and then kissing a Bolivian farmer. Refreshing but kinda dirty. It washes away quickly with a lil gift of tannin flavor and mild hops at the end, waving good bye while your stepdad tells your palate to stop being such a pussy.

D: This is ghost beer to the max, for 8% you could drill this like a BP disaster. I think the interplay of the juicy notes, the floral spices and thin mouthfeel make this thing really sessionable for those Scrooge McDrinkers out there just straight popping phantasm libations all up in this bitch.

Fantome beers always look majestic and beautiful and then just destroy you. This is no exception.

Narrative: Anabel had been having an affair with the director of Human Resources, well, sort of. She loved him in a casual, throwaway sort of fashion, that is until he suddenly passed in a tragic car accident with a truck full of Honduran gardeners. Police were astounded at the record 13 fatalities, 12 of whom were riding in a B2000 truck. Now Anabel satiated her need by making sweet love to Phil Billingsley’s ghost in the copier room. It is not what you are thinking, Anabel didn’t just rub one out while thinking of a ghost, she actually made love to Phil’s ghost. She would channel him afterhours in the HR boardroom and lure his incorporeal body to the copier room, which, seemed kinda unnecessay since he could clip through walls and all, I digress. His incessant moaning and clanking chains got in the way at first, but eventually she found them charming. The part she could not understand was how he kept talking about Christmas and how her life would end up. She wasn’t prepared for that kind of commitment. It wasn’t until 4 weeks into these fantastic trysts that she realized that she, you guessed it, was fucking the ghost of Ebeneezer Scrooge. Not to look a ghost horse in the gift hole, she carried on this affair, until the copier maintenance man interrupted a seance one night. OH SHIT BUT ANABEL WAS REALLY THE GHOST THE WHOLE TIME. The narrator will allow you leave to get your mind unfucked from that sick Nabokov twist there.

0

Happy Holidays

|

I am fairly confident that I can’t persuade you not to drink beer this weekend so I wont even try. Reviews to resume on Tuesday, pour out some for the homies this holiday season.

Hopefully there will be some sick brews for you under the tree, and the tree is all hella properly cellaring them at a cool 50 degrees. Or yo dog, you can get a yo-yo dog, dawg.