Yearly Archives: 2012

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Three Floyd’s Bourbon Barrel Dark Lerd, ERMAGERD DERK LERD BERNBAN BERRAHL.

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I think we already know how I feel about the BASE BEER for this beer. However, the vanilla bourbon version was amazing. Another top 100 bites the dust. Let’s see how this bourbon banger holds up and how far it strays from that sticky sweet base beer in its roots.

The bottle count was 420 brah, so sick. Straight up 7th grader walez brah.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 15.00% ABV

A: As dark as Satan’s magic, a thick black darkness with a dark khaki head to it, everything about this just proclaims obscure undoing. The head takes forever to subside and the murky depths below allow no light to pass through, not even at the edges or bottom. Oil. I don’t remember the base beer being this thick but it starts to lean towards the Abyss and Huna levels.

You like bourbon? rare beers? char? roast? sweetness? 15% abv?
Well then prepare your anus.

S: theres the expected coffee and toffee but also a tiramisu smell or a rye bread in there as well, complex in the overlapping smells, but the alcohol is well integrated. God damn, I could smell this beer until it was oxidized and flat, holding the limp corpse of the beer that used to be. It was like when Sugar Ray’s “FLY” came out, WHAT A GREAT SONG, you just couldn’t get enough of it. Except this beer is actually good and Mark McGrath is a jizz waffle.

T: The mild sweetness from the base beer sets in first with a gentle macaroon and vanilla that is so gully so hood. Next up is light oak char bitterness and toasty smokiness, next a coffee and toffee finish rounds out the taste. Very aggressive in every aspect, but so balanced and in onctrol, it’s like getting your ass beat by a series of different martial arts in a matter of seconds. The middle chocolate dryness is aggressive and I would liken this to bourbon barrel Plead the 5th in a big way.The alcohol is the first to come but the complex sweet and roast start pounding on your tongue just as hard. it’s over in 5 seconds but with serious residual taste. Just like every single Craiglist date that you have been on.

This beer fills me with too. much. want.

M: It coats like cough syrup, if you drank this at 8 am, it would be with you almost until lunchtime, also if you drank this at 8 am you have issues that I cant wrap my head around. Very thick, chewy, like liquid chocolate that you can just feel making residence in your gumline like those mucinex characters, only brown, and with presspots of coffee. really over the top. Then add in a third layer of

D: In some respects, very drinkable, its a warming, thorough drink that hits so many notes youd appreciate it regardless, however, anyone who has more than 2 of these is a liar, or has demons that we cant comprehend. It is aggressive, but gentle, absurd, yet refined. You want to introduce your Vietnamese girlfriend to your parents, but her bourbon barrel face tattoo might be too extreme for them. BUT THAT IS JUST HOW YOU LIKE IT.

Packing all these Fedex boxes wears me out, but is worf it.

Narrative: The threadbare pallor of the bone throne was welcoming, and cool to the touch. “The vassals are ready my liege” he spoke through baited smoky breath, thick with mist. “SEND THEM IN” proclaimed the necromancer as he wet his undead throat with a…ok I just…I can’t
“you can’t what?”
“Just keep with the script”
He exhaled, knowing he true intent, a soul as black as murky depths, the production assistant with hatred flowing through his veins, encouraged and strenthened with every fetched latte, piercing darkness with every pejorative hurled his way. “I just..the script”
“OH YOU JUST? WHY DONT YOU JUST STICK TO YOUR JOB” the director ejaculated with scarring epithets. “SOON MY DARK MASTER SOON” he clutched an amethyst pendant and embraced the darkening of his soul. The third coming of the Kentucky Pazuuzu Bourbon God would soon be upon humanity, and only this one dude at Panera would be spared from the 9 snarling jaws of relentless masticatio- “COME ON! They are BAGELS, not ROCKET SCIENCE!”

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. Cantillon Brabantiae, A Beer Born in 1989, Older Than Your Illegitimate Girlfriend.

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Well as if yesterday’s review didn’t push things to absurd new levels, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 1989. You read that right. This was brewed to commemorate a king of Brabant, or a governor, or maybe someone who bought a Chevy Nova in Belgium, I forget the story. Some epic shit happened and Jean Van Roy made this to commemorate that instance. Maybe someone beat Metroid without using the freeze beam and Jean was like “Well fuck all that, I am making a gueuze to make sure everyone knows this went down.” The problem is, not many people were getting their jimmies rustled in 1989 for this style of beer, relative to today. So let’s drink it now, and see what the fuck the business is.

The label has that Walking Dead sort of gothic charm to it, like you know it went through some shit just to be opened on a random weeknight in America.

BroBrah
Brasserie Cantillon
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This beer needed the ginger touch of a latter day saint and had the fickle cork like the hymen of a finicky prom date. It took a solid 10 minutes to ease that thing out and guess what, 23 years later, a slight hiss emitted and CARBONATION was present. I was seriously surprised. I mean, not enough to pull some Tony Stewart victory spraying all over some white trash people in the south, but admirable. My glass had tons of strange residue and floaties, oak, yeast, cork, god knows what. No lacing, no head, no stems no seeds no sticks.

A blast from the past, that is surprisingly modern.

S: This is hands down the most amazing part of this beer. This reminds me of summer nights walking through musky warm orchards in Fresno, the humidity and tool shed dankness just palpable in the air. You get leather, musk, worn bicycle seat, weightlifting gloves, and crushed leaves. That shit all sounds horrible but in tandem, it is like liquid nostalgia that puts you on your ass with reverence. Go right now, open your old comics or Magic the Gathering ca- oh, you played sports? Well why the fuck are you reading this website? Go do some sports shit, you’re still in shape right?

T: I guess everything in this review needs to be qualified by the fact that this beer is old enough to drink itself. HOW META IS THAT. Anyway, you get a nice sharp acidity that lingers for a moment and subsides into a massive funk like old laundry that imparts this tangelo zest and yearbook paper. It is like being sublimated INTO a piece of the past. It isn’t the best or brightest gueuze ever, but it seriously delivers on that haunting aspect of the past note. I didn’t get any oxidation or dead hand control on this beer, it was still very drinkable and delicious, but it did remind me of dancing to Tony Rich Project in 7th grade.

This is old, musky, and you know some tawdry things went down up in this mix. So much AIM cybering.

M: This was dry and extremely dirty, if that is an apt adjective. There was this entire memory lane aspect to this beer that could not be denied. You ever get caught cleaning your room and you suddenly are looking through all your old Wizards and Nintendo Powers and- oh no? WELL THEN GO DO SOME SPORTS SHIT. This site isn’t for you.

D: This is not drinkable on long sessions. Go to a lake and think about the hottest person you ever kissed, think about the worst, take a picture in sepia, watch a grainy VHS tape of yourself as a paradigm of vanity and try and reconcile that self interested mess with the current person that you have become. Look the past in the face and embrace the Hegelian historical dialectic.

Can you ever really make a 21 year old gueuze relevant to anyone? Only on this site.

Narrative: “ALLLLLRIGHT! We need to ramp up production ten fold for the next fiscal quarter!” The Belgian overlord boomed into the loudspeaker. The Belgian factory workers, sticky with pulp and apple skins could scarcely understand the need for this. Much. Produce. One thin worker began to sob into the sorting machine as he pulled defective granny smiths from the line. “Adelbrecht! Show fortitude! For how else will those who have mild vitamin C needs get their apples? Will they be supplicated with your tears my dear Adelbrecht?” He nodded and thrust his jaw forward and wiped the acidic juice from his face. Little did they know, all of these apples were not for eating, but fermenting. Their hours of tedious labor would be pureed into a slurry of wasted dreams for the swill of mass communication and sociology majors. The grist of their labor would be ground, not unlike their dreams, into a putrid mash to be consumed near rivers by reluctant underaged girls. Adelbrecht’s efforts would be in vain. The past had come full circle, the punishment of the future would be realized on a daily basis, unending, with disaffected prejudice.

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Cantillon 50 Degrees North 40 Degrees East, Things Are Getting Geographic Real Quick

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Bust out your compasses, we are going wale hunting in today’s review. As if slaying normal loonz isn’t enough, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 2007. The deal behind this beer is Jean Van Roy took his inimitable gueuze and found an incredible Cognac distillery and aged it for 2 years in barrels from that distillery. You know how membranes of a mitochondria fold in upon themselves to generate more ATP? That is what is going on here, except this is churning out purified RAR. Let’s get loonzy in today’s review.

I hope your harpoon is sharp, or your Paypal fishing vessel is well stocked.

Cantillon 50n4e
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 7.00% ABV

A: The appearance of the beer is an almost tame affair. The golden hues of the normal gueuze are present albeit with a deeper golden aspect to it and minimal lacing. There’s very little carbonation but, at this point, I could give a fuck less about some carb issues. Go buy a Fantome or an Upland lambic and call it even after you clean the beer off your ceiling.

Cantillon one offs? You can only look like a total asshole asking for moar.

S: There’s a strange interplay of elements here, you get the classic musk and lemon zest from the Cantillon gueuze, but there’s a deep sweetness and caramel candy finish to the nose that wraps the two together like a candied granny smith apple with booze. The cognac seems to have faded a bit, but it feels like a more balanced product as a result.

T: The taste is an incredible Chimera of elements going on. At first the beer presents a tart acidity like a freshly cut grapefruit with some blood orange zest, then the e-brake is pulled and this shit flips faster than an Integra being driven by a 17 year old hmong kid. The beer magically turns into this sweet mellow golden aspect with tastes similar to caramel, toffee, macaroons, and a lingering boozy sweetness like brandy, or, more properly, cognac. This whole affair is strange, like making out with a beautiful asian girl and then finding out she is actually a beautiful Bolivian girl. You aren’t even mad, just confused as shit as to what is going on.

At a certain point, I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and lingers with this swirling interplay of acidity and sweet baked biscuits. While the gueuze is disassembling your gumline, the sweet notes are reapply a sumptuous new ceiling on the roof of your mouth. Ultimately, your mouth becomes a public works project for strange ends.

D: This is not the most drinkable beer, even setting rarity aside. I really enjoyed it, but it is only fair to judge this against those that it shoulders ranks with. I personally enjoy Fou Foune and St. Lam much more than this “interesting” gem. If this Cantillon were on Match.com, all the sections would talk about how it does roller derby and has “such a great personality.” Don’t put a ring on it.

So they took this one thing and added it…to this other….thing….

Narrative: “Why are mommy and daddy fighting?” Baby Cognac wondered as she watched her parents tear apart their small abode. “OH OH OK THIS IS RICH! NOW IT’S….CAN I FINISH? LET ME FINISH!” Papa Gueuze was in one of his booze filled rages after a family outing. It had been chaos since they stepped into that Macaroni Grill and the din of excitement had now reached its sweet fever pitch. “Oh…SURE SURE….revert back to that, let’s focus on THAT ONE TIME AGAIN!” Mama Applezest was brandishing a large cutco knife and threatening no one in particular. Baby Cognac attempted to reconcile this hectic environment with her chaotic upbringing. No one wanted to visit, no one wanted to stay, but little cognac baby still had high hopes for later aging. She would get a pink VW Bug for her birthday to make up for the abuse living in that barrel of a home.

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Alpine Brewing Company, McIlHenney’s Irish Red, Gettin Some Red, Get Getting Some Red

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I seldom go off the hoppy path with Alpine. Their hoppy offerings are beyond reproach and represent the cadre of the best that each style has to offer: Hoppy Bday, Bad Boy, Pure Hoppiness, Exponential Hoppiness- ALL AMAZING. Their less hoppy offerings can be a bit questionable. Today’s we turn to the red side to see what they have to offer in the way of hoppiness, everlasting hoppiness.

Alpine McIlHenney’s Irish Red
Alpine Beer Company
California, United States
Irish Red Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: Big shocker here, the appearance has a deep rub red note with a solid amber that resonates throughout. It is a little light on the lacing and carbonation, but it isn’t entirely a drawback. Again, I strongly dislike this style so it could be dead on and I would still be a shitwaffle complaining about the inherent qualities.

CARAMAWL MAWLTS AND HAWPS, now kith.

S: Huge caramel sweetness and dry hop bitterness. There’s some belgianesque turbinado dark sugar notes but it is more caramel than dark fruits. The resins from the hops are nice but ultimately wish I was drinking one of the other Alpine hop warheads.

T: The caramel has a mild sweetness on the front end that is very refreshing. The middle body has a pleasant hop profile that is a careful balance between the agro hops that alpine is famous for and a swift drink ability that is exceptional.

The perfect beer for a moment of calm reflection.

M: The mouthfeel is very light and gives less coating than even the standard pale ale. Given the purpose of this beer, it is fantastic as a result. If this beer were chewier, it would miss the mark. Again, the sweetness, hops, and thin crisp finish give it a solid lineup.

D: This is very drinkable and is strangely memorable for how subtlety it imparts its presence and then give you a calm high five and takes off. It comes off like a friend you haven’t seen in a while that doesn’t hang around all morning after a night of solid drinking. I don’t know if this is representative of most irish people, but it seems like a pretty solid homie.

You can come from a proud crew, but that doesn’t make you amazing by proxy.

Narrative: The family knew Uncle McHenney had a serious problem, but they addressed it with that sort of amiable sweetness that you could expect from relatives in denial. “I mean, who hasn’t brought a flask to a funeral and thrown up at the wake?” Aunt Marjorie questioned the group. The family all nodded and chuckled playfully at Uncle Mc in the bathtub, gurgling gaelic swears to himself. “I don’t want to start pointing fingers here and ‘oh you defecated in my boss’s fish tank’ there, I love old Uncle Mc, and that’s all there is to it.” Like a magical irish spell, Uncle McHenney rose to his feet and gave all the onlookers sticky high fives. “Ehh foyour te toif? Yeah, yeah, that’s when yafakking knoew the knackers to have the noids!” Uncle McHenney exclaimed as he bolted out of the room, leaving sticky boot prints across the new berber carpet. “OH UNCLE MC!” the youngest exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders.