Now we make our way from the South to the, er, “kinda South.” Whenever I talk about Virginia, people think THAT is the South, but apparently DC is not? When I went it was sticky and dank just like this DIPA itself, so it’s the kinda south to me. However, people from Georgetown might as well be from Canada judging on how out of touch with reality those dryrubs are. Anyway, here’s an up and coming star that is tearing up the charts and was recently bottled for the first time, enjoy
On the wings of a hoppy dream, far beyond alpha acid reality
OH SNAP bonus glassware FTW. Thanks Matt Welling for the mad hooks.
DC Brau Brewing Co.
District of Columbia, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 9.20% ABV
A: This beer has a nice murkiness to it like Virginia lake water and a shallow dullness to it, like the West Virginia public school system. The carbonation is phenomenal and sends me right to armageddon, as promised. It isn’t exactly pretty, but you’re still down for some reason, kinda like Amanda Seyfried.
This is the most pleasant version of Armageddon since Kurt Russel in “Escape from L.A.”
S: This is a one note punch of Falconer’s Flight and reminds me a lot of Kern 5th anniversary, if we are comparing bad ass IPAs. There’s a grapefruit and honey aspect to this, but the east coast ghost seems to have infected this with a big waft of pale and crystal malt, which makes the citrus elements seem reigned in by contrast to other bi-polar offerings. However, this is far from disappointing, the citrus walks hand in hand with fresh lemoncake and cornbread zest. You can’t always be flirting with these size 1, DDipas, you need balance homie.
T: The taste follows through on the malty promises and goes full ZJ on the hops, even though I didn’t think I could afford it. The citrus is more like the ball boy to the pine slugger and there’s a kind of onion/garlic character hanging out in the outfield. The whole thing begs to be paired with Indian food or some awesome Thai, but it isn’t exactly the trip to Armageddon in the hop profile. For every pound of flesh lost in the hops I am put on a Dominoes diet in the malt zones so I remain with Jenny Craig results. This metaphor got out of hand pretty quickly.
I popped open this beer, hop wraiths escaped, and my face be all like-
M: This coats in a fantastic way with sheets of sticky honey, aserose, pine solvent, maple leaves, and conifers all around. If you used a Redwood tree for a glory hole, this is about what you’d get, with far less shame AS A BONUS.
D: This has a trifecta of chimerical elements going on, nice finish with a lupulus resin, high drinkability, and excellent carbonation. Just the perfect senatorial drink to enjoy after doing absolutely jack shit all day frustrating all legislation from the other side. It is a trip not exactly to hell, but let’s call it, Hoboken. But with more pine trees.
Is this a trip to Hopmageddon? No. It is close to hopurgatory though.
Narrative: You never thought that living in the Bastille in mid-eighteenth century France would be so boring. “Buy a time machine” they said “Meet Voltaire” they said. And yet here you are. The substandard gruel is of the most mediocre consistency and you long for the forthcoming reforms to spruce this place up a bit. BUT THEN YOU NEVER THOUGHT THAT APPEARING FROM THE FUTURE IN A HIGHLY SUPERSTITIOUS CATHOLIC COUNTRY WOULD LAND YOU IN JAIL, IN THE PAST. It was a very intense first few moments, the cobblestone streets, the mahogany bound books, the intensity was in the air, palpable almost. Then the bitterness sets in, again and again, the civil system what with your inability to confront witnesses, until it was just a prison of bitter and sour that you built for yourself. You paid top dollar for a time machine that placed you in a bitter purgatory, to which no amount of sweet can return you. “Loosen my shackles please, I feel that the iron is tarnishing my complexi-” What is that sour taste in your mouth? Bitter irony from a casuistic time traveler.
dontdrinkbeer 