Yearly Archives: 2012

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Cigar City Hunahpu’s Imperial Stout, The Sweetest Chocolate Comes from Florida

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Well with the Huna release approaching fast, I thought it would be good to look back on the O.G. 2011 classic. There’s a ton of barrel variants of this but many people opine that this is still the most legit. WE SHALL SEE.

Dark and sweet like a 2 Live Crew video. Lots of hea-

Cigar City Hunahpus, Imperial Stout, 11.5% abv

A: This is the darkest beer that I have ever seen, dethroning the noble Abyss and Black Tuesday’s of the world. It is jet black like spent motor oil and you can see its weight when it hits the glass and coats like chocolate Robitussin. The carbonation is amazing and produces microscopic tan bubbles that are a deep mahogany color. Mama put on the finest wares for the funeral, because this beer slays other stouts WITHOUT A BARREL.

This beer keeps it gangster. But in an amiable way.

S: This is an incredibly multifaceted stout on the nose profile and well worth the hype. It has a cinnamon finish with huge coffee dryness that is mellowed out by great cocoa nibs. There’s a vanilla and toffee that start getting their grope, olfactory overload finish.

T: The front of the beer is a nice sweetness like melted chocolate, the coffee sets up the entire middle of this beer with a boozy dryness. The finish has a cinnamon and nutmeg sort of taste to it. I didn’t think that the booziness was disturbing and can’t really imagine this beer improving over time, but we shall see. Wait no we wont because I will end up drinking every bottle that I get immediately. I love this beer.

This beer is the opposite of what this guy is doing. He is failing in inverse proportion to the win of this beer.

M: This has such incredible coating that hits the palate and just expands with coffee oiliness. I could imagine my teeth having a nice darkness to them not unlike a girl from Arizona State. It lingers with a nice complexity along the gumline that is like ringing a sticky chocolate bell that sets up shop and has no intention of leaving, not unlike a girl from Arizona State.

D: This is huge, complex, and angry; that being said, I would readily request a second bomber right away. It is not exactly refreshing, but it feels like a decadent treat. It almost feels too indulgent with all of the coffee, bourbon, and chocolate going on. If someone walked in on me drinking this to myself I would feel content but a little abashed at going on an Agustus Gloump rampage.

I need more of this stout, always. Because fuck you.

Narrative: “Your excellence, the cocoa provisions are running alarmingly low.” The counsel elder prostrated pleadingly. “At this rate, the tribe will have no sweet treats for the forthcoming Pukami Blessing festival.” Lord Hunahpu lowered his head shamefully, his mouth smeared with chocolate nibs. “THEN THE PUKAMI BLESSING MUST WAIT.” He pushed his thick fingers into the clay pot and pushed another mouthful of the coffee and cocoa bean blend into his gullet. “Myem, and if, the villagers protest, myem, tell them there was a, gulp, crop failure.” His decadence was too much for the rations of the small tribe. Suddenly a black murky puddle seeped out of the tiles within the floor of the palace. “PUKAMI COMETH!” the counsel elder shouted with reticence. The deep oily murkiness fired a milk chocolate beam at Lord Hunahpu for his gluttony and cast him in a solid chocolate shell. The counsel elder ran and was instructed by Pukami not to look back. He turned his head and saw Lord Hunahpu frozen in delicious stasis. He was turned into a pillar of salted chocolate. “PUKAMI CARES NOT FOR YOUR LOT!” echoes through the palace and he melted back into the floor.

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Alpine Brewing Company, Pure Hoppiness, For When Hoppy Birthday isn’t enough, but Exponential Hoppiness is Too Much

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More plugs for Alpine brewing this week and another amazing DIPA that is frustratingly hard to find these days. Used to be you could walk into a Whole Foods, give Fabio a high five and pick up a couple bottles of this. Now people on the east coast have a thirst for unbalanced hops and OUR HOP ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES.

Double that IPA, get that PUR h0p1n3$$ shyt g0i1n

Alpine Brewing, Pure Hoppiness, 8% abv, double IPA

A: Nice deep gold tones, great cabonation, spider webbing from the lacing with no middle carbonation. Looks like discontent apple juice. Apples that be all pissed and frothy.

The purity of the hops will reincarnate your soul.

S: Huge bouquet from a mile away, great citrus but pine and forest predominates. I love that Alpine is almost always, well Alpine. The smell is a fantastic balance between the juiciness of most DIPAs and the herbal notes from malty Imperial IPAs. IF YOU’RE WONDERING WHEN TO START WANTING IT, NOW IS A GOOD TIME.

T: Awesome hybrid of initial notes, there’s a tinge of herbal mixed with citrus. The citrus ends up riding out the party and the drying forest finish is present in the swallow. All around a great melange of the two styles. It feels like if Pliny and Maharaja had a love child. This would be the result and unsurprisingly, it is delicious. But that would never happen, most historical pundits believe Pliny the Elders homose- alas I digress.

Get all carried away with that hop blast and you forget about the 8% abv and you be all lookin like dis.

M: The mouthfeel is light with creamy coating. Great carbonation boosts the hops into the nostrils creating a create hop profile. Great maltiness that is not overdone. It’s a hot tub of hop oils all up in my bubbling mouthhole and THE BOTTOMS ARE COMING OFF.

D: This beer is really high on this note. The expansive character spread hop stickiness like a virus and your mouth is the better for it. The abv is hidden well and you could drink this in plenty of circumstances from grooming your dog, spot welding, watching past episodes of Burn Notice. The choices are endless.

You know it is the middle child, but you respect it nonetheless, interesting and good at science or whatever middle children are good at, not the baby, not the one who gets pregnant first. I am ok with that.

Narrative: The year was 2145, but that seems like just yesterday, well since they harnessed the photon retractor, everything seems like the yesterday of tomorrow. Let me explain. Corporal William Herboreal had been working as the ships botanist on an experimental mission to Titan, one of the outer moons of, well that’s not important. Upon discovering a new strain of humulus lupus, an advanced strain of hops, the oil was potent enough to power the ship, too powerful even. We cascade through time and sheered the space barrier in a way that even Immanuel Kant couldn’t’ have predicted. THE HOPS WERE TOO INTEGRATED. He kept feeding hops to the engine, its juniper rancor filling the cabin. But now we have crossed the line, fallen through time, living in the land of the hops. Yes we are living in the land of the hops.

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Alpine Nelson, India Pale Ale, Your neck, your back, your hop cones and your

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Ah Alpine Brewing Company, the hop masters whose bottles are constantly in demand. I get trade requests for these elusive assholes all the time and I only live like 150 miles from where it is brewed.

Something delicious coming out of East San Diego that isn't crystal cut meth.

Alpine Nelson, IPA, 7% abv

A: Bright orange hues with mild cloudiness, Great foamy head that escapes pretty quickly leaving minimal lacing. This beer looks all radiant like radioactive orange juice.

Hoppy denial, not should occur.

S: There is a vibrant bouquet of oranges, grapefruits, apricots, and lemon zest. Very citrusy and smells like liquid sunshine all up in my dome piece.

This beer will turn your head, and keep your attention. But not in a weird way.

T: Sadly, it doesn’t retain all of the bright juicy notes that it promised. I don’t feel misled, just misinformed. There’s a bit of tartness and cirtusy dryness but overall it comes off like a slightly more acidic version of Alpine Ale. It is still good, but not as drinkable as Hoppy Birthday, and not quite as powerful as Pure Hoppiness, still a beautiful middle child with flaxen locks.

M: This has a great coating and breadiness to it that is very refreshing. The light citrus notes makes me almost want to go outside for a change, look at the sparrows and, no, there’s nothing for me out there. I will resign myself to staying inside and living vicariously through my IPAs. The mouthfeel is pretty legit though, nice biscuity coating with that lemon zest you just cant beat.

Smelled the hops and my face be all like-

D: This beer again shows Alpine’s poise and power in the drink ability field. You really cannot deny their ability to present beers that you can drink any place any time. In the lobby of a Planned Parenthood? Pop open some Nelson. Roll with it.

Narrative: Brayden pressed his face to the glass of his generic track home. He could see Final Fantasy XVII, just sitting there, imploring his input. His mind dizzied at the thought of his characters unleveled, cast in shoddy garb to remain in obscurity. Instead his mother put him outside in this hateful sun. The trees with their shade imparting goodness, natural pillars of breeze facilitation. “I HATE PLAYING OUTSIDEEEE!!!” he cried as he struck an aluminum baseball bat against the metal street sign. The elementary physics lesson was enough to put a pallor on the entire afternoon. Once the vibrating in Jayden’s hands stopped, he noticed something, a neighbor’s yard. But not just any yard, to be sure. His neighbor had a grapefruit tree in full yield with NO ONE TO ATTEND TO IT. “No. way.” he ruminated casuistically to himself. Of course, an 11 year-old boy has no interest in fresh citrus. He does however love destroying things, particularly fresh produce. The line of fruits across the thoroughfare was complete and impenetrable and the oncoming rush of a Nissan Maxima ensured results. Jayden wiped the acidic juice from his brow and nodded approvingly. +21 char, +3 Vitaility.

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GEMS FROM THE 2012 DDB VAULT: Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock , The Doppel Block is Hot, wha wha, Block is hot, wha wha

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I found this in “unfinished drafts” from 2012.  You can drink in this classic review from over six years ago, aint shit changed but my limp:

Oh wow. A top 100 beer that pretty much everyone and their step-grandmother has had. Nothing interesting to say about this old german hag right? FUCKING WRONG.

I say things all day long and use all the words until you cant see nothing left for the meaning has.

Celebrator, Ayinger, Doppelbock

A: It looks like a Dr. Pepper 10, not in the graces that it is somehow not for women, but in the manner in which it pours. German beers always have this hard water discountenance that exhibits a graceful clinging and their lacing is unparalelled. Do I need to remind you of the Andescher Dunkel review? No, let’s not go there. But regardless it has a nice pretty watery nature that just lends itself to expansive frothy bubbles that cling and lace the glass demonstratively.

img_1949

S: You get a bit of cinnamon, cardamon, brown sugar, and tree bark. Also, in a weird way it smells like pennies when the bubbles be all popping. It is not a bad thing, it just reminds me of the coinstar machine, but in a sexy way. It has a pretty legitimate stone quality to the water that lets you know that what it lacks in malty base, it will make up for in lip smacking water recipe. AND IT FUCKING DOES.

T: Ok so at the outset you are like, alright, cola, nice almond, ok what’s that? Oh a belgian sweetness- WAIT HOLY FUCK and a deep turbinado sugar shows up all Belgian and decadent, not giving a single fuck. He’s a nice enough guy, but he spends so much time lounging around your house and palate.

M: This is clean and reminds of a cross between a dunkel and barleywine, if anyone has ever done that? Who knows anything is possible.

O: This is a very solid beer and reminiscent of older times, when things were simpler, beers were cleaner and not as chaotic as the beer scene now. I just wish new breweries would embrace and revitalize this style instead of nonstop IPAs pounding my hoppy perineum.

1477074883716

Narrative:

[it appears the narrative was incomplete for this one and that’s why it was never posted, oh well.]

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Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Just Straight Up Czar Jacking It

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This beer is released once a year and only 80 growlers are filled. OH SHIT BRAGGING SESSION COMMENCES. Just kidding, this is another top 100 beer that took me a long time to land and it was well worth it.

People be all like “What you finna do with all that stout, all that stout up in that growl(er)”

DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO, TAKE THIS SHIT TO THE DANGER ZONE.

Nobody reads shit on Saturdays anyway.

If Czar Jack was stuck on a roof, would you help Czar Jack off?

Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Russian Imperial Stout, 9.3% abv

A: The carbonation just cascades in tiny clusters clinging to the center and edges of the glass like that Ewok village when it is night time, little constellations of potential drunk and disorderly charges, a mocha head of “these cuffs are too tight.”

S: Just wow, the smell is like fresh baked fudge, a light boozy aroma like an aunt who has a secret to tell, nice nutty almond dryness and of course a burnt coffee waft closes the deal. Your pants are off and the hotel bill will reflect the shame of your actions, namely drinking an entire growler.

You crack a 64oz growler of this and shit just goes bananas. B A N A N A N A N A N A N A S. That's how you spell bananas.

T: The coffee taste with mild acidity is the first thing that rolls up with an insouciant swagger oh and he brought two hoes with him, bourbon and dutch chocolate. The taste applies a single Sherman Williams coat and then just goes on its merry way, smashing in tastebuds and giving palate HJs on the way down.

M: The mouthfeel is amongst the lightest that I have ever encountered in the world class stout category. It is almost like an imperial porter in how clean and effortlessly this beer works your tongue over. It coats nicely but doesn’t overstay its welcome. This beer is down for a chocolate one night stand and then peaces out, but makes the bed first. I am ok with that.

There was so much hype surrounding this beer I was a skeptical hippo but, well here we are and I am still riding this brewery's jock so hard.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and dangerous for a beer at this ABV level. It doesn’t get all caught up with emotional coffee baggage, or talk about its daddy chocolate issues. This shit is just down to bang your palate and just be a super chill ryde or die stout. I want more of it, but I heard about their new procedure for landing Czar jack and it sounds fucking hellish lotteries, local rewards, club cards and shit. So this may be the final growler that I enjoy of this elusive potation. BUT THEN AGAIN MAYBE SHE WEEEIIILLLLL.

At first I was excited for 2 liters of this beer, then I was like-

Narrative: Chancellor Billingsley was a charitable man, but in a strange, offputting manner. He has a zest for philanthropy, but in what amounted to a purely hateful manner. “Regis, please assemble the equipage of the 14 stallion carriage, I would like to donate sums to the mealymouthed masses.” He strode sternly to the awaiting carriage and sat sumptuously upon the Gala Coupe` with a large sack of heavy Spanish doubloons. “Now bring the trot to an idle speed-” he said as he cocked his arm back towards the throngs of commoners descending upon his carriage. “AND HERE IS YOUR MONTH’S RENT!” he called as a cast a weighty solid gold coin cascading directly to the temple of an alms seeker with her threadbare hands outstretched. “You see Regis, without the loss of consciousness, they would never embrace the blessing I am bestowing upon them, it takes a complete debilitating blow to show them the honor and glory of my fugue.” One child was seen both simultaneously crying and cheering with a bruised imprint of Queen Isabella knocked deeply into his epidermis.

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Sam Adams Utopias, $220 bottle of beer, 27% alcohol by volume, where are my shoes?

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Ah, another classic top 100 gem I have got a few requests to review. Well I took this shit to the dangerzone and lived to tell about it. That’s commitment. I drink expensive shit for your amusement. ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?

Hey guize, remember when we dropped $220.00 on a bottle of beer that was 27% alcohol? Me either, what the fuck happened last night?

Sam Adams Utopias, 27% ABV, American Stong Ale

A: This looks like a copper T1000 hateful solution that is thick and viscous but coats the glass like a zerg hive. There’s an amazing brassiness to it, both color and traditional adjective aspects. No head, no lacing, which is apropos for the innuendos as well I suppose. If you dropped $220 on a bottle of beer there’s gonna be no- well you get it.

Watch out, expensive ass, strong beer that no one else will appreciate here.

S: Holy shit, this is like a deep hateful liqueur but I love it. It’s like reduced IHOP pancakes, maple, sweet brown sugar, smokiness, Honduran tears, I get a note of crushed will, but that is subjective. The entire bouquet has a deep heat to it that is pervasive but, its like a butterface, you put up with it for all the other things going on. OH SHIT A MISOGYNISTIC JOKE.

T: This brings the Heat like Miami. It has a deep caramel taste like Werther’s Original Meets Lava: A Romantic Comedy. There’s such a great toffee, then a dryness from the barrel like you are chewing a pencil dipped in bourbon, then it closes with a finale number of pure butterscotch. If this is beer, then I am on board. It’s like that Kurt Russel movie where that girl gets thrown overboard, fuck, what was that called?

I am not sure what it takes to get a beer up to 27% but I am pretty sure uranium barrels are involved.

M: It is sticky like the La Brea tar pits and just scorching. The age did not help and it just dries in a medicinal extreme way but I really like it. I would recommend it to a friend Amazon, since I know you are watching. It coats and just hits every zone and finishes fire hot like a peat whiskey but in a strangely delicious way.

D: Well I guess this all depends on if you are a wealthy 19th century industrialist. Can you afford to just stroll down to the store and drop 2 bills on a bottle of beer? If so, how do you keep your monocle from getting fogged up with all those middle class laymen taking up all your air. So no, this is not drinkable you monster. Why would you seriously need even more than 6oz of this? If you drink 6oz you just drank 4.5 bud lights, take it easy moneybags.

I am not sure what is going on here, but I am pretty sure it is bad ass. My dick doesn't have a face on it though.

Narrative: Sedwick Billingsley looked upon the court with disdain. The entire post-revolutionary society was a bore to him and traveling did little good for his Francophilic soul. Napoleon had conquered and been deposed, he sold arms to both sides and glutted himself on the business of wartime economies, and how here we sat, wealthy beyond belief but yet unapproached by anyone in the Court. His brash tone and palpable awareness of death made him an abrasive character. He constantly smelled of cognac and macaroons and declared hateful truths with ease. Mr. Billingsly was a complete asshole, but everyone sought to eventually seek his affection. He broke the fan of a fair mademoiselle simply due to the fact that he disliked the color lavender. Sure he was rich, unapproachable, and caustic, but deep down there was something that the general populace saw in him. That green light on Daisy’s dock, that anachronism in an unreliable omniscient narrator, those sweet butterscotch kisses. The nephew of Voltaire tipped his hat to Mr. Billingsley and he cast a franc at his chest so hard that it made him taste maple syrup, which was not even available then. Nabokov entered the court and then promptly exited in his time machine.

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Three Floyd’s Dreadnaught, Double IPA, Maybe She Wont, but then Again Maybe She Wiiiiilllllllll-

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She dreads me. She Dreadsmenaught. But then again maybe she wiiiillll....

Dreadnaught IPA, Three Floyds, 9.5% abv

A: It has a bright cloudy tangerine and orange haziness to it, lots of foam with huge carbonation. The lacing is thin but the whole presentation is great. It is a top 100 gem and I want to to be not as good as it is, but damnit, it’s another non-California DIPA that just owns.

Three Floyd's. I li....I liii-....ILIKEYOUALUT.

S: It reeks of huge grapefruit and tangelo notes, some mild orange rind dryness, and almost zero herbal aspects to it. I have given this to sceptical west coast friends and after their facial reconstructions from hop assault, they were into it. Albeit horribly scarred.

T: The taste almost directly mirrors the smell, which is surprisingly rare in IPAs this big and complex. It has that great juiciness of Sculpin, orange notes, a strange tartness similar to grapefruit or unripe tangerines. This is incredibly refreshing and the abv sneaks in like a Trojan horse. THAT’S NOT THE ONLY TROJAN THAT SNEAKS IN IN THE MIDWES- just kidding they don’t use birth control, you’ve seen their kids right? Ok cool.

You think its just gonna be a standard balanced IPA affair, then it rolls all hard on your bitchass.

M: The mouthfeel is a bit bigger than the standard DIPA but it doesn’t toe into that disappointing maharaja range with excessive coating and chewing. This beer has an exceptional balance, but then beats your ass with hop cones. A strange note that needs commenting upon is how good the bubbles feel. They somehow hit an exceptional attenuation/carbonation level. Three Floyds consistently delivers exceptional products and this one delivers. Not trying to sound all tough, FINE I LIKE THE BUBBLES OK.

D: This is clearly exceptionally drinkable but the lack of availability, price point, and high-ish abv seems to draw away from the universal applicability of this beer. It is a world class but it as far as the epic DIPA class goes it is certainly not best in show. Overall, a great beer and the Midwest has a viable answer to the west coast giants.

Another DIPA that doesn't make distribution to California, what a tease.

Narratives: Shire Grassmuggins was not an exceptional piece of feudalism. It got exceptional amounts of rain and had incredible turnip yields, given the time and labor constrictions. Serfdom never exactly produced the most diligent workers, but, as far as 13th century economies went, Grassmuggins was a solid performer in a bull market. The workers were diligent and took religious holidays often, but the field was almost conscious of its need for crop rotation. The crude tools yielded amazing produce but the soil called out for minor improvements. The wind through the reeds seemed to scream to the peasants for basic nitrates through fertilization. Alas, this shire must let its latent glory remain unknown to other regio

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McKenzie Saison Vautour Du Bois, Expose said it best, Saisons Change.

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This is what I imagine kisses from Blanche Du Bois would taste like, dirty but fulfilling.

McKenzie Saison Vautour Du Bois, 7% abv Saison

One of 372 bottles. Oh shit you can just taste the rare.

A: This beer has a golden straw radiance to it with a little bit of murkiness. Like that chick’s hair after 3rd period PE, you know she didn’t wash it, I mean we were just playing Le Crosse, I digress. Nice carbonation and lacing, there’s a powerful saison core at its heart powering this beast.

This beer makes me have so much feelings. Why you feelings.

S: There’s a huge waft of tart champagne grapes, white wine, wet backpack, and sweaters from the dryer. It also kinda reminds me of a Crayon box, but in a good way. Altogether a very murky affair that you aren’t proud of but secretly enjoy, like Matt Damon movies.

T: The taste has a light tartness at the outset that resonates throughout while the funk and wheat just drills a sick solo. I want to just keep drilling this beer but then I have to go to the bathroom, so a vicious cycle ensues. This is an excellent beer to get a UTI from. I lvoe the hoppy dryness at the finish that reminds me of chardonnay so hard. I can’t believe that this has 7% abv because I am David Copperfielding this shit and making it disap- oh you got it? Ok, fine moving on.

Unlike this ridiculous shit, this beer was an amazing decision that I stand by, at least for the next few hours. That's more than this woman(?) can say.

M: This has a nice expansive quality that just takes over like a possessive ex-girlfriend, appropriating your palate for its own uses. The dryness isn’t overwhelming and this feels like a classier less abrasive Temptation, and it is better as a result. It gets better as it warms, showing its depth and complexity with an inkling toward the lemon and orange kisses that you get from people with a Lip Smackers inclination. Why are you kissing children anyway?

D: This review was written in the freezing 59 degree Los Angeles winters, so you can see how I am enjoying it under sub optimal conditions, but it is still super legit. The bottle doesnt disappear because the dryness and carbonation serve as stumbling blocks but I can still selfishly merk this entire bottle and not a single fuck is given. Sometimes I trade for shit and dont even know that I want it until it arrives and, thank goodness for shortsighted trades because this paid out so. hard. Classy ass wine spritzer up in the cut like what.

Some saisons, I am like, are you kidding me? This one is a legit rendering.

Narrative: Sergio walked into the high school prom reeking of Cooks. He exhibited that classic proto-wasted swagger, rocking lithely on his heels and using his elbows demonstratively. “Oh, Sergio, are you feeling alri-” Ms. Wilkinson could barely finish her sentence before he snapped back “OK Yesh, hello, tonight, I would like to let you know who is alright, in this world, this world.” He looked out towards the hackneyed light show and ruminated about the meaning of Tony Rich Project “Nobody Knows” Ms. Wilkinson had had about enough of his Puerto Rican antics “life is like a jiggsaw puzzle and your date sometimes hey, your date, psh, then puzzles all torn apart.” His sly posture was not offputting but it was clear that he had fallen victim to the sweet white grape. He was placed in an idling campus security squad car, the school paper quoted him as saying: “a million years from now…I’ll be loving prom steillll-“

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Surly Coffee Bender, Finally A Responsible Morning Beverage for Unemployed People and Fashion Students

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A responsible morning beverage for unemployed people.

Surly Coffee Bender, 5.1% abv

A: This beer has a menacingly deep dark countenance with a huge banana republic khaki head, a bit refined for its Midwest heritage which would be acceptable if it didn’t smell like alpha acids an- on to the next section.

Beer in the morning, no time to explain.

S: I couldn’t hold this over, the coffee is overwhelming. The Midwest loves to make beers that just infiltrate the nose, take over your house, wake your girlfriend up: OLFACTORY. That is their game and it is played well. I supposed there is some mild Hershey’s cocoa and bittering elements but overridingly, it is coffee, like elephants, all the way down. All of this is predicated on coffee as its existence.

T: Wait for the spoiler alert: coffee. Seriously. Just coffee for days. Were it not socially reprehensible to just straight up drink brown ale for breakfast, this could replace mocha frappa adjective misusacinnos. Maybe in the Midwest that’s just how they roll, wake up, drink some surly, work, more surly, check redfin.com, attempt to solve property value disparity, call it a day. But just wow, not just coffee, amazing coffee. I don’t want to say barefoot intelligensia level, its not that acidic but it has a definite Coffee Bean feel to it. For my east coast readers, Coffee Bean is the exceptional coffee that we drink while you keep Dunkin Corp. stocks abreast. It tastes like coffee.

This beer is dark and strangely offensive.

M: It is incredibly thin. . .not unlike. . .coffee. If you think I am trying to drive home some form of Nabokovian motif, let’s just put it out there, it is coffee, not sex with minors. Seriously it tastes like an iced coffee. I got this as an extra and I demand to know the price of this temptress. If it is under $3 per can, I have pity on the poor Midwest that unleashed this wraith upon their productivity. Even the siren of Farmville nods at this Amarosa knowingly.

D: If you haven’t gathered from the foregoing: very. I have essentially provided a voucher for drinking this unabashedly for breakfast. I don’t care if you are a crane operator on the new children’s hospital which happens to be occupied early, go ahead, have some coffee bender in the morning, you earned it big guy (or woman, whatever, find me a woman who operates a crane [sic.])

This beer is hard as fuck. But gentle.

Narrative: “I just don’t understand why the early Seinfeld episodes look\ so dated, look at what they are wearing-” Uncle Adam droned on. “Keep it together Jonah, keep it together” he told himself as he clicked the rhythms from Vengaboys songs along his jaw line. He didn’t exactly mean to supplement all of his caffeine habits with coffee alcohol but, such is the way of things. “Jonah are you cold? You’re positively shaking!” Aunt Beatrice exclaimed grabbing an afghan rug. “Yeahbut you know who really- I mean always touching the thermostat? Who says that? Seinfeld, you know what I meanyeahyeah, notevencoldthough seriously.” He attempted to break his repartee into at least dactylic hexameter for his relatives to try and understand. Jonah was a man converted to the alcoholic coffee beast, and now he was dropped as though he should have invented the rain coat.

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Pechish Woods, Cisco Brewing, This brewery wants to see that thong da sour dong ta thong thong. Sours like a truck. truck truck.

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This beer is amazing and strange at the same time, like those kids with autism that hit up college all early and you’re pretty sure they are getting dome but then you are not sure that- it’s a pretty solid sour. It has nothing to do with geniuses or oral sex.

Cisco wore a glittery belt buckle, another Cisco got all my dotcom friends so many awkward hj's in rental cars, this Cisco melts your face off with scorching sours.

Pechish woods, Cisco Brewers, American Wild Ale 4.9% abv

A: This is incredibly thin and watery in character. If not for the haze it would give off a mild orange translucence to it, like watered down faderaid on a struggling Sunday morning. There is no lacing, nor much carbonation to write home to mom and dad about. Summer camp at Pechish Woods is tranquil and inviting.

Smart people enjoy sours, stupid ass people enjoy cats. This has been proven time and time again. Next time you meet someone who doesn't like sours, ask what he/she majored in, you know which one I am talking about..

S: This has an unmistakable pie crust and peach smell to it. There is also a faint note of wet hay and autumn in general exuded from this beer. Chicks are not into this. Don’t open this at a club. You can’t leave with less than zero bitches but, you cant owe people girls is what I am trying to say. Leave this wild ale at home.

T: The nose is very similar to the taste and it has sharp notes of peaches and a nice cracker crust finish to it that doesn’t really expand or linger for very long. There aren’t many sours/wilds that go full on unshaven peach like this one and, the candor is welcome. It is a bit one note but you don’t get sick of it.

You are expecting something all hard and bad ass but then it doesn't get you wasted at all. But it's still pretty chill so you just hang out and swap Catholic Camp stories and shit gets autobiographical real quick.

M: This is super crisp and light. The tartness only underscores how fast this imparts the flavor and disappears quickly. This is actually a bit of an impressive hat trick with the peaches, cinnamon, crust, and excessive drink ability. I would highly recommend this beer to anyone who wants to wow someone with the limits of what beer can attain. This is limited in scope but incredible in depth, it just nails peach cobbler is its cobbler ass. The result is not COBBLED TOGETHER.

Chicks wont like this beer, but then again, maybe she will. If the rap community can convince girls to sip Moscato then anything is possible.

D: This is all redundant, but this is a very drinkable beer and a very pleasant beer to drink at that. It would be a perfect dessert beer to serve to guests and the pairing choices are SUPER OBVI. If this wasn’t so annoying to obtain, I would have this on full rotation. Peaches by the pound. dumps like a truck.

This is the type of person who enjoys a beer like this, despite what I like to think about it. And myself.

Narrative: The orchard hummed with a dynamic life to it in the summertime. Something about the sun’s rays cascading through the branches and the wind picking up the sweet blossom of the peach trees made it seem like one didn’t have a care in the world. “OH I AM SORRY, everyone, Pierre thinks these PEACHES ARE GOING TO HARVEST THEMSELVES, let’s all take a break and wait for him, because NOW YOUR SHIFT IS GOING TO BE 20 MINUTES LONGER BEFORE ARTS AND CRAFTS” the loudspeaker boomed as the camp counselor gestured furiously towards Pierre. His hands were cut from the constant harvesting and the acerbic juices from delicious peaches filling the sack around his neck. “Please, my…mom didn’t sign me up for this…this is supposed to be summer camp…” Pierre pleaded and wiped some peach pulp from his youth designer jeans. “LET ME, tell you something Pierre Pierre the Peachcrastinator, you need to stop jabbering on about how life at Pechish Woods is the PITS and start thinking about how SWEET arts and crafts will be!” If the camp counselor’s tone didn’t cut to the bone, the caustic puns would scour his skin first. Arts and Crafts at Pechish Woods consisted mostly of preserves preparation, jams, pie construction, and tart manufacturing. “Fineeeeee….” Pierre was indeed being a peachcrastinator but, you couldn’t argue with the perks. He took a bite of a fresh peach and continued “Free Time” at the sticky sweet Pechish Woods Summer Camp.