Yearly Archives: 2012

2

2008 Cantillon Lou Pepe Kriek, Cherry Poppin Daddy

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Oh loonz. Everyone wants them, and yet they seem to gravitate to the cellars of a chosen few that inexplicably never seem to drink them. If anyone is posting pics online of their 300+ collection of Loonz and 3F, pokemon hoarder extraordinaire to the fullest. Ask them to post a pic of a single open Fou Foune and watch their little hearts break. For example, for the lulz, I took some loonz to Cabo and drank them, because I drain lambic harder than a Brazzers account:

Drinking loonz on the Tropic of Cancer is money, having a basement full of things you never drink is a janky episode of Hoarders.

Loonz are meant to be dranken, so we are gonna smash some cherries in today’s review. Oh also, this is on some top 100 lists, for those who care about that SUPERFICIAL SHIT.

Step on that cherry, aws jeah, smash my preserves.

Alright let’s get this review underway, oh WAIT FUCKING PSYCHE-

CANTILLON PSYCHE OUT: MOAR SHARED LOONZ.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: Get the haz mat suits out, this beer looks like radioactive grenadine. The ruby foam billows up and just exudes a tannic berry character and when the light hits your eyes it is more radiant than an Aphex Twin concert. You just googled that shit. The whole affair is a beautiful garnet gemstone from old Gam Gam that you hold so precious but want to share with others.

If you have never had any Cantillon, it will make you flip your shit.

S: This has an initial tannic cherry skin quality with a musk similar to the OG Lou Pepe Gueuze, for obvious reasons. You get some wet yard clippings but with a healthy does of cherry juice and Cherry 7up sprayed over it. It has a crisp finish to the nose like a red champagne and the whole thing just feels refined, like if you got accused of being an alcoholic on Intervention and pulled this out people would be like, “well HOW OFTEN are we talking about? Does he beat his kids EVERY day?” Making friends and shit.

T: This is incredibly tart with raspberry, cherry, and essentially any candy that has Red5 in it. It reminds me of sour ropes and a juicy, authentic berry profile that blurs the line between beer and tastebud orgasms. Which is the opposite of an orgasm ON your tastebuds, so we are clear. I love the incredibly acrid borderline brackish finish that this imparts. The dryness is like a fine Pinot Noir meets the sweetness of well-done Cyser, balling Lisa Frank style, stuffing singles into some Hudson jeans, balling out so hard.

If you don’t drink your Loonz, that is bad and you should feel bad.

M: Hey, how is your short term memory holding up> This beer is fucking dry. It is also thin, and…cherries. There you go. Next section.

D: Did you recover from that huge blast of sass in the last section? Pshew, can you walk? This is exceptionally drinkable, you could power down a full bottle of this and still show up smelling like a Fruit by the Foot addict in time for your kid’s Parent-Teacher conference. If you got pulled over after binging on this beer, the cop wouldn’t think you were drinking, he would just assume you had no self control and fucking loved candy.

Actually opening a Cantillon feels good man, try it.

Narrative: Rainier Bing swirled the pink potation in front of him and wiped the sticky juice from his slick skin. His stem was chapped in this humid weather and this tavern felt like a prison, letting him know all that he had done wrong. “It all reduces down to MASTER and SLAVE roles, ultimately, that’s what the Story of Job, Psalms, pretty much all the Old Testa-” Rainier stopped his drunken rambling when he saw her walk through the threshold. Her skin was still flawless, perfectly unbruised, looking as though harvest season was just last month. “Is that…SKEENA SANTINA? God, she was the prize of the last harvest.” Her sweet ruby skin glimmered under the red lights, and the heat floated on top of her skin, like an ice cube in a glass of gin. She quipped to a couple of currants in the corner booth and sat, BY HERSELF NO LESS, and casually lit a cherry cigarillo. There was no smoking in the Cherry Pit but she flashed a coy wink to the bartender and he continued drying the glass and put on an asymmetrical grin. “HEY…er hey Skeena?” Rainier stammered to himself, suddenly aware of this pints of juice that he had just consumed. “Gosh you, I mean, look at us, same TREE! God, I remember you from budding season, you just-” Mr. Bing continued and noticed that she was staring with an apparent prescience at the white fuzz on his right quadrant. “Ha! I mean, look at me, a lil old in the tooth, did some time in the bottom of the plastic bin, a little moisture expos-” Rainier trailed off as Skeena Santina gave him an acrimonious glance and put her cigar out. He was right, in the end, all was reduced to master and slave relations. Reality was a tart endeavor.

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De Struise Five Squared, 130 euro bottle + 25% abv = Gucci Mane

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Well let’s give a little background to those who missed the boat on this elusive, massive beast of a beer. De Struise took their Quad X and ice distilled it several times until it was 25% alcohol by volume. They made 240 of these, I understand that 216 of them were released to the public at the Alvinne Beer Festival to benefit a brewery expansion. This bottle was 130 euros and still had to be shipped from Belgium so, here we are. It finally ended its journey up in Kernville with Kyle and Eric from Kern River Brewing. What a life it led.

I usually hate on small pours from other janky beer blogs, at 25% abv, my 8oz pour was plenty.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 25.00% ABV

A: First I have to say this bottle took the wax game to a whole new level. There were about 5-6 layers of what can only be described as Crayola wax. After that wax shattered everywhere and made a huge mess I got the cap off to find a CORK as well. The old Cantillon/Fantome Belgian trick keeping things gully. So the onlookers at Kern River thought I was a huge prick for bringing this elaborate beer to a Citra release, but I got it open. It was actually carbed pretty nicely for the body with gentle microbubbles and this huge sheeting of alcohol that looked like clear solvent that left relentless clear curtains on the glass. The beer was ruby to amber in hue with a lightly hazy aspect to it. Very pretty, all in all.

Ice distilled? 25%? 200 American dollars? Let’s do this shit. I doesn’t afraid of anything.

S: The smell at low temperatures was turbinado sugars and some dark fruits but as it opened up it exuded this delicious boozy tiramisu, toasted marshmellow, caramel, butterscotch, and sweet brandy aspect to it. The whole affair felt like if Scrooge McDuck had a sweets cellar that you got to rifle through. Super decadent and over the top. The type of thing a 4th grader enjoys just before being tossed in an Econoline van.

T: While cold, this beer is pretty tame with some light toffee and aspects of red grape and plums, but when this beer neared room temperature the throttle was torn open and this went NoS foggers pretty quickly. There is a huge aspect of red grape, butterscotch, molasses, caramel, and figs. This is an incredibly complex beer that just lingers and provides a boozy warmth on the finish. All present were amazed that it was 25% alcohol, so if you were an eccentric millionaire, you could play some hilarious pranks on your friends with a few bottles of this.

This beer is strange, unforgettable, and you sure as shit will have a hell of a story to tell if you live through the experience.

M: This is the heaviest, stickiest, most coating I have ever experienced. This is not like Hunaphu’s where you go “wow that’s chewy” and swallow, I mean your teeth are coated in this sticky decadence. They don’t know what to do. It’s like melted caramel that lingers on and on with a boozy warmth. It is incredible and the perfect beer to share for when you finish Skyrim, kiss your first real girl, you know, epic moments.

D: This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but how drinkable do you think that an intensely heavy, 25% abv beer is? You aren’t exactly ordering a pint of this and tossing darts. This is more of the type of beer you watch while watching Millionaire Matchmaker so you can just black out everything you are taking in. I guess you CAN drink a lot of this, if you have the time. This is delicious and could be savored like a delicious brandy or fine bourbon, but most people aren’t drinking 16oz of neat bourbon and playing shuffleboard, at least not outside of Kentucky. I am not here to tell you how to live your life.

Hey bro, try this Belgian Pale Ale, it is 25% abv. Wait wat-

Narrative: Karl Venderberg lumbered slowly through the cafeteria wiping the sweat from his brow, despite the fact that it was a cool 47 degrees outside. “Hey Karl! You big Belgian teddybear!” Kandyss Lamont called to him and gave him a loving hug, attempting to get her arms over the sheets of alabaster folds that were his shoulders. “Herghhh KERNDESSS, I got, you this….flow….flowerrrr” he exhaled roughly and produced a crumpled lilac from his wet pocket. “OH I SAY KARL, you are the sweetest person with a thyroid problem that I HAVE EVER MET!” She kissed the uneven terrain of his skin and he smelled the Dr. Pepper lipgloss and immediately craved a Mr. Pibb. “I do not fucking get it” Chase Marks, local waterpolo all-pro, semi-regional champion quipped, “look at him, he is fat as fuck. I do not buy this Thyroid Problem, look he is eating a sandwich with brownies as bread and dipping it in tartar sauce. WHAT! Come on, now he is giving Kaelynn a mix CD he made?!” Karl wheezed and looked at Kaelynn’s impeccable bilateral bicuspids and azure blue eyes. He was the sweetest, most morbidly obese, most decadent student at Struise High School, and the ladies flocked to him. The thyroid problem was bullshit, but he got mad messages written in dust on his sick ride by the the stacked dimes at SHS.

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Coors Brewing Blue Moon Belgian White, Because Your Stepdad Isn’t Watching the Kardashians Sober

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You knew it would come to this. We have been slaying wales and enjoying our time in the sun, but now the time for around fucking has long since elapsed: it is time to confront the Blue Corn Moon. I am going to show you assholes how to paint with all colors of the wind in today’s review:

Apologies to Shaun Hill for the misuse of the glassware, we are slaying wales today.

Coors Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
Witbier | 5.40% ABV

A: This has a hazy orange aspect to it and frothy cloud of mediocrity that dances playfully so as to say, “don’t worry, having a second kid isn’t the end of the world.” A panacea for pedestrian problems. The lacing is insubstantial but it looks the part of a summer beer, something you can drink when you are 14 years old and you can’t really fuck the world up that badly yet.

If you wanna be the best damn beer served at a Prince concert, BE THAT SHIT.

S: The smell is kinda like that girl who you always cheated off of in Algebra, standard, but forgetable. It has some light biscuit qualities, pale malt, a light orange zest, and a lil bit of coriander on the backend but I am talking like 1 molar unit. This is all irrelevant though because you will probably be drinking this out of a plastic cup with half an orange dunked in it anyway, looking out over the shitty waterpark, wondering how your life ended up this way.

T: This has a mediocre biscuit and conrbread quality with an emphasis on hackneyed wheat execution. In the realm of witbeers, this would be somewhere inbetween a Chevy Aveo and a Daewoo Lanos. It will get you to your middle management job at Golden Corral, but no one is going to be turning their heads in stern reverence of your chunk of orange sitting on the rim of your 22oz glass. It tastes like it smells with a watery wheat profile, some orange notes that seem almost synthetically added there via the beer equivalent of photoshop.

Dude you have a Blue Moon, what?

M: This is watery with some mild foamy expansive corn and biscuit maltiness. You get the traditional pale aspects and some light drying from the orange. Describing this is like using an electron microscope on a loaf of bread because extrapolating the nuances from something this simple seems to belabor the point. You have probably had this beer a million times before at Applebees, why the fuck am I even reviewing this?

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and it will be the taste you remember when you are booked for public intoxication. The type of people who drink this don’t read my site and the type of people who brew this go home from their factory jobs and watch Storage Wars, but, it IS drinkable. Water is also drinkable on a long hike, but it doesn’t have biscuits and orange rind floating around in it. This beer will get the job done at a Sugarland concert if the venerable Shocktop isn’t available. At a certain point I just look at the prospect of getting a mild buzz from this and think of the 150 calories wasted in the transaction.

After 9 of these at a Pony convention, you will never drink (this beer) again.

Narrative: Life at the Sunkist packing line wasn’t how Jacob Killigan saw his life culminating. He was in charge of 31 people and his regional director said that his efficiency yields were exemplary. He even had various certificates printed from a bubblejet printer lining the walls of his modest cubicle evidencing how qualified his fruit harvesting efforts were. Still, he would come home at night to his Birmingham home and look at the Billy Bass on the wall and pop open a Red Stripe and wonder how it all came to this. In high school he played noseguard and people loved his S10. Oh how those slackjawed Alabamian women, so ripe with indiscretions swooned when he hit the bags. THE BAGS. He exhaled and tossed the cap across the room into his Kansas City Chiefs trashcan and turned the TV on. He took a deep sip and felt an existential crisis on an uneducated level, there had to be more out there than re-runs of Celebrity Apprentice, but what? He would toe the cusp of greatness at the Sunkist factory, until he meets a biscuit mouthed Denny’s waitress who has just started a jewelry business on Pintrest. True love.