Given my Doge I had an immediate affinity for the Dustin Hoffman pupabank. As much fun as I have with the 312 beer scene, this brewery and in particular this beer is operating in a weird counter orbit. In a realm steeped in sticky sugars and sigh-laden releases dripping with hype churning, off color stay legit. I already addressed this at length with Eeek! But this further codifies that idea. No promotion, all traction. 

Papillon so hard.

The acidity is masterfully poolchem sauv blanc, a minerality like chalky lime and zested kumquat. I love the hilarious divide between world class and basically the entire world class. A touch dry but oddly white grape skin and baller ass Sierra Mist. If you have had a bottle of Fantome Printemps or a masterful work of Moteuka, you will be ovulating over this gem. 

That butterfly pops harder than a barrel aged p90.

Back when Modern Times dropped Fortunate Island, in the pre-hazeolithic era, cicerones were cleaning the wheaty cream out of their jeans at the prospect of an intensely aromatic grist bomb. Fast forward to the current Oat Age and this gem reinvents the casual IBU cream of wheat paradigm amiably. Mouthfeel is dialed in with residual slickness to the tortillas added to the mash, tons of clementine and guava, swallow is yard trimmings and that cum colored gummi bear. Absurdly drinkable and gone far too soon.

Before someone from Atl Inevitably chimes in, no they do no actually add tortillas to the boil, at least I don’t think they do

Karl Strauss 28th anniversary, quad aged in four roses barrels. I love the way that lacquer and carmelized sugar from BALs can dance and denature the clovey underpinning from that Belgian strain and push it decidedly into the deviant realm of BBBws. Four roses is known for their high eye content mash bills and oddly the translation with a quad decadence comes across more akin to brown sugar wheater as a composite. Less spice, more plum and craisins. Creme brûlée shell meets a marzipan sweetness tempered with medium toast American oak profile. For a brewery you may not give a shit about, this was a decadent foray into Adam from the Wood territory, albeit store brand.

I have no idea why this was on the menu but it’s probably so dumb fucks like me will waste $56 on vintage PERPPY TEN when there is perfectly solid juice that costs exponentially less. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was very tasty and the difference in viscosity and sweet sugar baby drag was there, but like the hype behind shit like these and all the dusty ND and old OGD bottles at present, I simply can’t justify the costs. The extra money spent is essentially a self esteem subsidy, and I suppose at that level in the bourbon game anything to make you feel special and alive is a solid ROI.

Some hoppy treats from north of the wall. These guys overnighted growlers Via UPS from Ottawa. I don’t even want to think how many maplebuxx that cost 🍁 🇨🇦 

Most of these modern day certified beer servers will be too obsessed with JUICY HAZE and vernerler bean underattenuation to care about this old money aviary.

Today is Birdman’s birthday, appropriately enough, put RESPEK on East End’s name

2010 Grat is not only my favorite vintage, but it also happens to be the best non-ba barleywine ever made. Stoked to revisit that.

Put a bird on it.

Ready for your night to end in some Donald Duck orange juice misfortune? We’ll have I got a TIPA for you. In the realm of Biggiex3 and hulking citrus giants comes this svelte imbalanced alpha acid giant striking with one massive whirl pool hop arm like the Tyrant from Umbrella Corp. it is never sticky and feels like it has no bitter hops and I had no idea London ale III would drop this efficient.

 It is dangerous and borderline negligent to release a beer with this crush ability index and citrus profile. It’s like when Sparks came out and Filipino foam parties got way out of hand. this is the logical extension of the sherbert bombs we have been subject to in the year of Oat Domini. 

The mouthfeel has a touch of Fusel that dries counterproductively against the usual creamy grist, like when PtY hits and everyone compliments the balance of this malty Catobelpas. I would ruin my life with these present progressively. Every beer is a gerund phrase of perpetual citrus losses.

Oh man PGHpenguins be a fool for this one. I am all for 13% bbbws in pint cans and this did not disappoint. Take a sticky, resin forward barleywine and merge it with the American oak and dripping molasses of bourbon barrel residue: that leaky caramel bung. Bananas fosters and carmelized raisins. If you loved Sebago, this is your go to for blackout eraser dick make out sessions on the riverbank. We are building something here. Deep River: brewery most responsible for unprepared pregnancies.

Notes of axe body spray, third owner wrx, kettle bell, seven diamonds shirts, supreme hats, tones of sneaker heads, advanced vape rigs, emptied swishers, loans from parents, six years to finish undergrad, a hint of dating under aged girls, starts sentences with “I’m not racist but”, is rude to wait staff, the swallow drives fast through residential neighborhoods, has a Rockford fosgate bandpass box, there’s a note of chain wallet, real estate license, talks about being Keto, goes to burning man to hit on chicks, leases a car that is a third of this beers monthly income, still lives with his parents but just planned a trip to Phuket, has several spartan race medals, really wants to get into oracle boat racing, loves OPUS ONE and screaming eagle, has a gsxr but no M2 license, beer is good at pulling out, ghosts people in the DM; never uses a turn signal, 2nd shift nailed it: just a quintessential douche bag.[fn1]

[fn1] this is excellent with restrained acidity and bursting with tangerine and Buddha hand, cut melon and Agua Fresca, the acidity never gets out of pocket and holds firm in the pineapple juice realm, tame carb and bone dry white grape swallow. I hope second shift continues to stand in the monolithic side Project shadow, so long as these remain accessible and completely delicious.