Yearly Archives: 2012

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TWO TRILL REVIEWS FOR THE PRICE ($0.00) OF ONE: Grand Teton Pursuit of Hoppiness & Bruery Berazzled

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Grand Teton pursuit of hoppiness imperial red 8.1 abv

A: This beer is amber with reddish blood orange hues in the center, medium lacing, and a solid amount of middle carbonation.

S: The smell gives off sour notes from the hops almost akin to a bitter cherry, it doesn’t seem herbal it’s like a tart raspberry/citrus note to it.

T There is a mild tart front with a big hoppy herbal backend like biting into a black cherry with a herbal center, and WE HAVE ALL BEEN THROUGH THAT. The fruit notes lead you back to their dorm room but then you see the blacklight posters and hear the Cypress Hill mp3s playing and you know, the herbal is the underlying aspect.

M the mouthfeel is a bit thin for the style but still good overall. It gives it solid versatility in hot weather, very drinkable and it comes off like a solid into beer for people who have an aversion to all out double ipa’s but would tolerate something a bit sweeter. Poseidon pulls some tricks and a trojan horse maneuver leverages your tongue to take big glups of what turns out to be a bitter beer.

D: This is tough to just because this is where the balance is a bit subjective; because if the hops and mild tartness is cloying you likely won’t be on board for many of these. However if you enjoy the borderline lambic meets ipa feel is something you are into, you’ll be reaching for more. This doesn’t come off like most imperial reds, it has an interesting character to it and it should be allowed to reach into the prize chest. Oh, spider ring, yeah the prize chest is pretty much all spider rings.

Show up at the store, find this interesting offering.

Bruery Berazzled Sour

A: It is amber with light pink hues at the edges. It appears tame enough, similar to Madame Rose or the like, but with this crackly disposition that is like a sassy ruby housemaid that quips at the head of the household with juicy aplomb.

S:: There is a raspberry tartness with an incredibly drying wine profile. The nostrils recoil at these scorched earth scents. The lactic and acidic vinegar is a solid foreshadowing of the acid bath your taste buds are going to be subjected to.

T: Holy hell. This is an incredibly tart sour that presents an incredible acrimonious punch. If you thought that the Framboise de Amarosa was over the top, this feels like it was made in a lab. The bitter tartness is incredible and it makes me flinch and the drying is relentless. I feel like I am being hazed into the Gueuze Delta Wild house.

M: The mouthfeel is very thin and tingly all over. Again it is at its core just super drying and angry. The funk mixes with the heat and tastes almost like reduced sour skittles. The tannins and Brett give it a strange incredibly acidic character that is tough to get down initially, but as it warms it becomes more fruit forward and pleasant.

D: Again it is all spikes and sharp skins all over. It is an understatement to say that this is tough to put down for the novice beer drinker. I love most every Bruery endeavor but this seems to be bordering on a punitive mad science project enacted by the bicamerial legislation of the house of Sour Ropes and Lemonhead Senate. I can’t support this kind of chicanery beyond an example of pure madness.

It is an interesting spin on a nonstandard offering.

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Fantome Clos Preal Batch 2, Ghosting Harder than a Terran Nuke

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You ever watch a Megadeth video and have no idea what the fuck is going on? That is kinda what is going on with this fantasm. The ornate packaging is so high handed for the amazing artisinal fantome saisons that you are accustomed to, but you feel special. This was only available in Belgium as far as I know and the hefty 10% abv caught my eye. I love this brewery and this style, so let’s see if Fantome continues to exorcise the dead in today’s review:

Ghosting harder than a Terran nuke.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Bière de Garde | 10.00% ABV

A: This is as fantome as it gets, nice eggshell carbonation that releases the crypt with billowing white foam. The cork is released as willingly as a Mexican parking ticket, with less corruption. The golden hues have a cloudy brassy tone to them that keep things in the saison cut. Black strap you know what that’s for.

At the outset, I am not sure what it is that I am celebrating with this bottle. RIDE THAT GHOST YOU PUSSY.

S: This has a strange waft at first, not the imperial apples and hay that I was expecting, no this beer has gone down a different road altogether. There is some citrus but it is mostly just funk to the max. I am talking incense dealer at Venice Beach levels of funk. There’s this musk that is kinda like the potted plants aisle at Home Depot and a rich acidity on the backend similar to zested lemons.

T: This is incredibly dry from the outset with a pithy citrus aspect to the finish. The bready notes work to mask the abv amiably. This starts going into a strange new realm of non-saison that I am not confident that I agree with. I wanted more of the citrus aspects, but instead I was treated to a fennel extravaganza, pushing fox tails into my gullet. Unless I am getting bullied by some poor Bolivian kid at a Fresno elementary school, I don’t need to eat weeds.

These saison ghosts are the best ghosts.

M: This is drier than your Statistic teacher’s sense of humor and lingers just as long. There’s this acrid assault on the gumline that borders on brackish and even Noel Coward thinks this is a bit salty. As this beer warms the abv starts waking up like a Snorolax and, if you’ve ever woken one of those up, you know shit goes off the rails real quick. There’s this charred wheat aspect that makes an entire 750ml tough to finish to myself, but maybe I was meant to share this. Maybe I shouldn’t be such a selfish asshole maybe?

D: This is too big to bee drinkable, too rare to be opened often, too ornate to take places without people clowning the shit out of you, and if you drank this while working on an IROC Camaro, people would seriously question your political affiliation. This was pretty solid and I love Dany Prignon, but just didn’t knock it out of the park for me. I have heard that Extra Sour is the second coming and resurrection of Ann’s ghost, so I would love to pursue this saison love to its logical conclusion. I will keep you P(gh)OSTED!

This mischievous ghost will hit you when you least expect it

Narrative: The first day of 9th grade was especially trying for Thomas Caraway. Tommy Hilfiger overalls were not only dated, but also a wildy unacceptable fashion decision in a world of waiting derision. “HEY FARMER TOMMY WHY DON’T YOU SU-” He learned to tune them out and calmly stride to Geometry with the cool poise of a 14 year old who just wasted $120.00 of his parents money. It wasn’t that he was a bad kid, he was sweet enough, it was just a question of leadership. He wasn’t a follower, but he set himself out as more of a chairman without a board. Thomas was a bold innovator in a market that abhorred change and friction. He pulled out his iphone and began to ironically play Puddle of Mudd around other kids in the cafeteria, much to their chagrin. When he was sweet, it was irascible, when he was bitter, it went too far. He was a strange kid but, you never could really dislike him for it. However, his bucket hat justifiably got struck in the genitals on not an isolated occasion.

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Midnight Sun Oak Aged TREAT, Take You to the Oak Aged Shop, Let you Lick the Pumpkin Pop

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For the uninformed, this might look like a rather pedestrian gem for this site, that is until you see those magic words on that bottle OAK AGED. That’s right, we skipped right over the old traditional version and went directly for the .rar jugular. I have heard that they release 400 bottles of this each year, but maybe a Midnight Sun rep can clear that up for me. Either way, this is one of those 400+ wants < 15 gots sort of beers that brings all the boys to the yard. Let's get our pumpkins smashed in today's review:

Midnight Sun Brewing Co.
Alaska, United States
American Porter | 7.80% ABV

A: This has a slick blackness to it that doesn’t come across as a hefty boy, it is nimble and imparts some light sheeting on the walls but the mocha skeeting is kept to a refined minimum. The carbonation runs freely and serves up tiny effervescence like a hungover barista.

Out of the pumpkin mire, the oak aged chocolate monster cometh.

S: This has a much more robust nose than the regular version and deals out pumpkin, nutmeg, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, smashed M&Ms, light lactose aspects, and some pepper. There is a strange bit of clove and sweetness from a Djarum Black, the whole affair is classy but sticky at the same time, like 5th grade Halloween sleepovers in an opulent den of rich mahogany.

T: This carries the chocolate and pumpkin to the maximum, 7th gear engaged to the fullest. The spices are present throughout but are not overpowering, they are more like a tasty garnish to the main event. The chocolate and pumpkin don’t have that horrible synthetic feel that some other holiday offerings posit, I am looking at you Shipyard brewing and all of your Smashed Imperial offerings. It’s the kind of chocolatey boss that doesn’t give you your tens, but lets you leave early. Pretty solid.

Try this pumpkin beer that said. Only 7% abv they said.

M: This has a nice slick porter wateriness to it that imparts the flavor and gets out of there as though a new episode of Breaking Bad is on or something. You could put this back all day long, or you could open it with some people that will never have the chance to try it, either way beer curmudgeon. Spread the love around.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and hides the abv well. The pumpkin and complexity of the chocolate aspects balance each other out and everyone is left with beige ass teeth smiling happily. The oak is not too pronounced but it is still empowers the other elements to do their thang, impart some vanilla and spice notes and then the bottle is gone.

This beer hits your flavor zones hard and leaves you stable, like a pumpkin BAWS.

Narrative: Bill Nye, the guy of science looked through the fusion reactor blast shield and scrawled some obtuse findings into a yellow notebook. The particle accelerator had successfully extracted carbon chains from both chocolate strains and disassembled complex amino acid chains from a gourd. Now the faint hue of the orange light spun rapidly as the proto-pumpkin quarks attempted to integrate themselves into the chocomatrix. “Those years of admonishing the reasoning faculties of children have postured me, BILL NYE, to usurp the throne of the king of Halloween.” The flow charts on the wall demonstrated the complex plan to become the figurehead of pagan rituals and how to rekindle the love of his followers through the use of science. “OH MY GO-” a flash of Ferrero Rocher gold erupted and Bill stared into the wispy whirring chocolate cloud. “MR. NYE! YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE, IT IS NOT FINISHED!” The Science Guy would see the instability of the product breaking down. He grabbed his oak clip board and entered the reactor and was imbued with chocolateyoakypumpkin free radicals, infusing him with the deep painful essence of Halloween. BUT WOULD HE USE THESE NEW FOUND HALLOPOWERS FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

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Funky Buddha Bonita Applebaum, No Winzipping, Only .Rar Archives in Today’s Review

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Well what do we have here? A Funky Buddha limited beer that is bottled in a blank bomber? Sounds like something you could walk down to Binny’s and pick up, right next to the Daisy Cutter, right? This is one of like 28 bottles produced, and this sweet slice of pie is probably extinct, but let’s look back on desserts past in today’s review:

Applebaum jeans and the malts with the fur.

The Funky Buddha Lounge & Brewery
Florida, United States
American Brown Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: This is turbid and murky like bayou water. If Hill Farmstead uses Vermont water, I am confident that there is a bit of the everglades in this sticky brown ale. The sheeting is minimal and the lacing is pretty lackluster. It’s not the most unfortunate looking beer that I have ever seen but, it’s on the inside that counts, that’s what every person with stretch marks has ever told me.

This is how people react when you pour them this sweet treat. It also helps if they are overweight, and an alcoholic.

S: Holy sweet decadence. This beer is like walking into a fresh bakery and it happens to be a pie clearance sale. There are notes of brown sugar, biscuit malt, sweet apple, caramel, light vanilla, and this lovely cinnamon aspect to it. I said “lovely,” we are talking genteel civilized ales here.

T: This literally tastes exactly like a slice of fresh apple pie. I cannot explain it any more directly than that. It begins with a faint graham cracker and cinnamon then cinnamon and allspice come forward with apple aspects. You should pour this beer over a slice of vanilla ice cream and get shit a la mode real quick. This is the slice of American pie that your camp counselor never told you about.

If you are posting looking for Funky Buddha bottles, you are in the wrong neighborhood, motherfucker.

M: This is very thin and makes no secret about its brown ale roots. You know deep down, there was a normal base beer before they piled all of this incredibly strange but amiable elements on top of it. There’s not much coating but, with the pastries and confectionery going on, you don’t really have time to focus on that. How many times have you left the next morning without underwear on? Yeah, that’s what I thought, trollop.

D: This is decadent and excessive, but it is not exceptionally drinkable. Maybe if you were a baller ass 5th grader your sweet zones could take 22oz of this, but for those of us with pubes, the sweetness becomes cloying after a few ounces. This would almost be better served in nib bottles or as a gentle liqueur to serve to your overweight friends when they invariably get dumped for that tiny size 16 around the block. I would still love to have this again, I just wouldn’t eat a whole pie for dinner, because I have a small shred of self-respect.

You want a bottle of a beer that has less than 50 produced? Better start dropping fat stacks, racksonracksonracks.

Narrative: “Well if you can’t perform a scorpion into seconds with a DECENT TURNOUT, then maybe you need to lose some weight.” The 7 year old stood stunned before Sherry Sourmane, the most dour faced dance instructor in the tristate area. She thought of the sweet slice of pie that she had the night before and lowered her head to the ground. “I just..my tummy hurts and…” The room rattled with the clack of a 6 inch stiletto upon the ground. “Out of my sight, you like wretch.” She was a sour, stern instructor, best enjoyed in small doses. When dance class was over she took to berating the parents in turn. Each fully-grown person in attendance received a fully tailored dress down from Ms. Sourmane. John Marks collected his child and walked solemnly to his car. The dance instructor looked down her brow and took a bite of a Home Run Pie and was all too aware of the tu quoque that she lived on a daily basis.