3 Sheeps Brewing Company released Deeply Rooted, and it is not good. They also released Triple Barrel Wolf, which is absolutely amazing. The old Wisconsin compromise.

The biggest issue with Deeply Rooted is the adjuncts: orange peels and Ecuadorian vanilla. I know beer nerds with 3 roommates suddenly become experts on geographic bean sourcing. But like that surfboard in your Milwaukee studio apartment: you truly don’t need it. This is a case of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

3 Sheeps is clearly gifted in barrel aging and this grand marnier wafflecone derails all of that. The underlying beer is likely very good and then they hit up the taste equivalent of Auto Zone and just ruin this stock barleywine. The result is pithy zest vents on the sides, sticky marshmallow seat covers, tacky pastry spinner hubcaps that entirely distract. Barleywine as a style almost never needs additives and it is almost never improved by them.

When I see adjuncts on a barleywine label it’s like seeing “SEE CASHIER” on a gas pump, I am straight up leaving.

Imagine my surprise when the triple barrel wolf enters the picture and picked me up lovingly by the nape of my neck and made me a part of the “you’re getting nothing done tomorrow” pack. This beer is so tightly balanced, excessive but with traction control. Sometimes, multiple casking feels like the Reply Guy of the beer world like, damn ok you want our attention fine you have it.

This doesn’t need to bank on its multichambered experience. It leans into this “Wisconsin Svelte” execution you see from Central Waters. At first it feels insubstantial, but then you realist how much macaroon, lava cake, Jordan almonds, and Monkey bread is occurring. It is a kick to the obliques how many waves of cask massaging are occurring here. I love that disbelief moment where you taste this and then re-read the label like some idiot who threw the package away and there’s more microwaving instructions.

It is extremely spicy, hot, warming, molten ganache in your chest, chocolate rejection to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I don’t know how this same brewery made both of these beers but I want to shear this sheep again.

Canopy is fine.

3 Sheeps Brewing Company released Deeply Rooted, and it is not good. They also released Triple Barrel Wolf, which is absolutely amazing. The old Wisconsin compromise.

The biggest issue with Deeply Rooted is the adjuncts: orange peels and Ecuadorian vanilla. I know beer nerds with 3 roommates suddenly become experts on geographic bean sourcing. But like that surfboard in your Milwaukee studio apartment: you truly don’t need it. This is a case of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

3 Sheeps is clearly gifted in barrel aging and this grand marnier wafflecone derails all of that. The underlying beer is likely very good and then they hit up the taste equivalent of Auto Zone and just ruin this stock barleywine. The result is pithy zest vents on the sides, sticky marshmallow seat covers, tacky pastry spinner hubcaps that entirely distract. Barleywine as a style almost never needs additives and it is almost never improved by them.

When I see adjuncts on a barleywine label it’s like seeing “SEE CASHIER” on a gas pump, I am straight up leaving.

Imagine my surprise when the triple barrel wolf enters the picture and picked me up lovingly by the nape of my neck and made me a part of the “you’re getting nothing done tomorrow” pack. This beer is so tightly balanced, excessive but with traction control. Sometimes, multiple casking feels like the Reply Guy of the beer world like, damn ok you want our attention fine you have it.

This doesn’t need to bank on its multichambered experience. It leans into this “Wisconsin Svelte” execution you see from Central Waters. At first it feels insubstantial, but then you realist how much macaroon, lava cake, Jordan almonds, and Monkey bread is occurring. It is a kick to the obliques how many waves of cask massaging are occurring here. I love that disbelief moment where you taste this and then re-read the label like some idiot who threw the package away and there’s more microwaving instructions.

It is extremely spicy, hot, warming, molten ganache in your chest, chocolate rejection to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I don’t know how this same brewery made both of these beers but I want to shear this sheep again.

Canopy is fine.

I will give you a moment to pick yourself up after falling out of that time machine to dust the pacman yeast off of your JNCO jeans. What a god damn ancient oddity we have here. Rogue’s flagship beer for 3 decades, a Maibock, now pivots to…a west coast IPA.

We can dunk on Rogue donut beers, or wince-inducing Sriracha Stout, but there’s something enduing about picking an obscure style as your flagship beer and sticking to it for 30 years. The IPA oddly merges the old caramel backbone days of the Bush administration with the dystopian Citra, Mosaic, and Belma present. Scooby Doo rhizome tones.

I do love their refusal to bow to customer demands. Having a Maibock as a flagship beer is amazing and that’s why I enjoy the OG Dead Guy Ale. $14 a six pack, old school west coast IPA in the modern era is bold in a world of RTD cocktail domination. This has that resinous aserose aspect, tangelo pith, Duraflame log and Green Polo cologne thing, with a sweetness underlying to add balance.

This pivot is fascinating and I love this Glass Onion disruption. Give us more Dead Guy styles from the crypt. Zombie Roggenbiers in 2023. This beer rolls over and asks “SO WHAT ARE WE?”

It’s for people just getting along in their day who have a bit of mental bandwidth to seek out a moment of peace. It’s not their entire life. It’s a danky cord of firewood and Tom Selleck in Blue Bloods. I like how Rogue is zfg, doesn’t date its beers, doesn’t price them to try to undercut anyone else and still sells insane volume. They sent me a single can in a tiny coffin filled with dirt. Insane decadence.

The smell is a Dead Guy callback, little earthy meet pepper flakes hop presence, taste leads with a McDonalds biscuit meets McGriddle grist, middle body is stripped like its watching its macros, grapefruit pith, the hop presence feels more spice/pine driven to allow the malty midswallow to shine.

It’s for people who say “im entering my villain era” and then just play Draft Kings and order Wingstop. Don’t think, it’s just thin crisp malt and warming hops. It’s the FF9 Tropical armor that lowers your stats, but you still seek it out.

Happy Dead Guy Day, Manny Calavera.

CAFE standards are a mandate Congress puts on automakers to ensure their entire fleet has better fuel economy. This has had some unintended consequences.

Breweries used to be praised for efficiency, but rewarding additives and residual sugar has led to larger beers. The wheelbase continues to expand. In 2016 the CAFÉ standards were amended to make the MPG goals based on its size. The styles could be redefined to hit their goals.

The once refreshing west coast IPA saw its curb weight increase. A once special, yearly indulgent TIPA now became de rigeur, expected even. Across a brewery’s fleet, it was no longer the abv that was the focus because efficiency was predicated upon the size of the beers themselves.

If you walk onto a dealership floor or a bottleshop and wonder why everything seems bigger, the goalposts have shifted. The normal west coast IPA now must be loaded down with oats, or increasingly absurd levels of tetra dry hopping. The Ranger is now bigger than the hoppy F150 of years past.

Sequoia County is a big west coast IPA that is exceptional. It is also Australian so this would be a “Perth style” ipa in their language and Holden’s are larger than ever. It is made by the guy who left Oscar Blues and this hit my doorstep like a transcontinental alpha acid rocket just dripping in dingo runnings. It is resinous in that delicious, coniferous, zested tangelo way. The body is just enough crystal to not feels like a wiped out cold IPA, a pop of sweetness to structure the raked foliage and Haribo peach ring.

It does all of this without making “big” its intention. The dryness and bitterness is certainly large but it isn’t a function of catering to market inefficiencies.

Automakers now crave hitting 6000lbs because then it’s an industrial vehicle and you can write it off entirely under Section 179. It’s why your friends completely unsuccessful Ju Jitsu studio somehow needs a G Wagon, and Shaelynn’s candle business has a 4Runner. The modern palate is a writeoff that brewers seek out.

This is classic and an amazing IPA, no tax tricks or MPG games necessary. As big as it needs to be and nothing more.

You can watch the burn rate of hypestout factories as they go through the expected casking motions. A new brewery will have heavily adjuncted pie filling on draft until that first year clears. Then they can stammer and drop that first barrel aged offering.

The moves thereafter are as predictable as Capricorn malevolence. Next vanilla, and then some fruited version, then a litany of adjuncts that mirrors some dessert, finally the double and triple casking. Classic. Go take a Bourbon County core sample if you need to see how the stout sediment is layered.

Toppling Goliath just moved on from the paleolithic vanilla/bramble/tequila era and now the stouts walk on dry and and use tools in the form of double casked rye. This is Rye to Rye. It seems a bit Ryedundant. However, there is a change in the intensity and saturation unlike the bullshit bourbon world that does multiple casking to make up for the fact that their distillate is dogshit and age statements are pre-K at best.

This was the last beer that I drank in 2022 and it is easily one of the best. I don’t want to tip my hat to the shitlords who went to a NYE dinner just to pad their pockets with these resales. But it’s incredibly good. The 4.9 on Untappd might as well be carnival barker for the Duck Race Razzlers trying to pull six bills still. But it’s insanely tasty.

The bottle is raffle only and $100 so it has to be good. I don’t mean that like in a pleading way, it HAS to be. Assassin has one of the best consistencies and mouthfeel out of any barrel aged stout, it is focused, flawless roast and tollhouse chips. The rye imparts a gingerbread, caramel pecan sandie meets old fashioned heel strike.

The barrel is crushing like Donkey Kong. You have to love that saturated intensity of York peppermint patties, fondant, chocolate turtle cake, and See’s filling. You also have to love the holidays because you get mouth pounded with waves of cinnamon, nutmeg, a zucchini bread aspect and Panettone.

You can get kinda close with something like Firestone Walker Dreamwood but, this is exceptional, unique and immaculately executed. It’s grating that they keep delivering at this level.

Wisconsin gang rise up 🐄 🧀 @608brewing made some solid ba stouts, but like someone who just bought an ACR bushmaster, we always want to test that range.

The dunkel is better than the wheatwine and that pains me to say. It’s exactly what I have been craving on these drippy socal days. The carb is frothy and whips lovingly like a reluctant Fiver dominatrix. You get a smack of toasted pumpernickel, light bitterness, playful clove esters, and a biscuity Gardettos chip swallow. You can sit with pinnochio and watch him praise dunkels and that nose stays the same size.

The ba wheatwine isn’t as sweet or honey driven as the style often provides. There’s an ultra saturated cask profile that dominates like a sazerac meets pretzel croissant aspect.

The two compliment one another like how only one person in a relationship can be the online one. The other has to have like zero social media presence it’s the rules. The clean restrained dunkel keeps the excessive wheatwine in line. Crisp lager balances the sticky spirit soaked pathology of that wheat. Parents who send their toddler to day care can launder their feelings of guilt by calling it “school” or you can sit at home with that .08 BAC Wisconsin parenting. Your Milwaukee mileage may vary.

Parker’s Heritage Collection: the Shasta Heaven Hill BTAC that is a cask roulette every year. This year we have a “DOUBLE BARRELED” blend that is sitting at a tasteful $650 secondary. But how do them casks stack up?

PHC15 was my whiskey of the year last year and let me just get this out of the way: PHC16 is even better. It is a celebration of form and oak. If you know that stupid dipshit who consistently just gurgles “ERR JUST DRINK ELIJAH CRAIG BARREL PROOF, MY STEPKIDS DON’T TALK TO ME-” finally you can stuff this stave in their sour mash hole.

At the outset, a double barreled bourbon sounds like total marketing bullshit. Secondary casks exists almost exclusively to make up for age statements and a lack of complexity. Your friend who loves Angel’s Envy and all those tired Jefferson’s expressions can be safely ignored in all matters.

This is different. You get a 13 year old cask and a 15 year old cask mated, and one of the barrels basically has leather seats, literally. The level 3 char is almost a nod to PHC15 heavy char but you only get Level 3 char, which is barely enough to scorch my kindling.

Look at the dehydrated rehab house piss tones on this one. It is Death Valley sun tea. The nose is such a blast of gingerbread, top grain leather, lacquer, nutmeg and Pecan sandies. Taste is warm, bananas fosters, long dry cloves and lattice crust, with a tempered 130 proof exhale that makes you immediately lose credibility in domestic arguments.

Roko’s Basilisk is this idea that AI can get so advanced that it logs evidence of who didn’t support AI and punish them later. This is bourbon dipshits. You have to buy everything in the event that you speak ill of some cornwater that is coveted later. I covet this eggplant ok, don’t punish me cobdaddy.

I love how this shows its age, depth, a creamy warmth like fustian fabrics, but still stays in the pocket and doesn’t go all LS SWAP status like Bookers and Stagg variants. It’s the elegant power of a woman fencing with an oak epee.

This is the pinnacle of bourbon in 2022 you must try this one.

If you weren’t into craft beer in the early 2010s, it’s hard to explain what a massive whale these Funky Buddha bottles were. Now the idea of trading huge bottles for some fruited kettle sour seems quaint. It was the beginning of Floridaweiss and the progenitor of harrowing lactic consequences.

This has not only not aged well, it’s a dystopian acetic hellscape. Privileged people have dental insurance and this is how they self flagellate. The initial huff has a solvent and pool chemical acrid aspect that lets you know it’s been a long 11 years in that bottle.

Quinine protects against malaria but nothing protects against vengeful American wild ales left unchecked. The first taste is bracing like warheads left in seat cushions. All the fun of red wine vinegar with no summer salad. The fruit at this point is an absentee father and whatever sweetness remained left when the passionfruit went out for smokes.

This was one of like 50 bottles so at least we know this is a contained incident most people won’t endure. I paid $100 for this vial of pool chemicals to step on my cubes. The swallow is Southwest customer service and no vouchers are provided. You can feel the sides of your tongue contract and your tastebuds become ridged and embossed as it sucks the saliva out of every opening.

I’ve never had pure citric acid but this has to be approaching that meyer lemon event horizon.

We live in a privileged beer landscape now where even better beers can be overlooked. It’s important to reflect upon these lactic sleep paralysis demons from the past, to move beyond the florida snake oil, to seek absolution in drinkability.

My bicuspids may never recover.

Whenever I see a “cocktail inspired beer” a few bullshit alarms go off. It’s either a passion project where a brewer is trying to round peg/cask hole a beer into some flavor profile that’s wildly disparate. Like your tipa base will not taste like a boulevardier. It just won’t.

The other option is they have a cask that’s way too boozy and ethanol driven so they look at one another and see just how many orange peels and luxardo cherries they can pack into that disaster until it feels intentional.

I was skeptical of Smog as my Firestone ptsd went off from so many sbagliato inspired strong ales of the past. Then I remembered something. Smog used to make old fashioned out of baoe and they were incredible. Faith restored in this dubbel. It was like watching tv at your parents house with motion blur and no subtitles, a pang of old times.

Ask dad to find the piece of paper with the crumpled 32 character wifi password, we are going old fashioned. The dubble is distinctively beer and amazingly Belgian in execution. The head has incredible sustain and bone of the additives undermine the sheeting.

The natural esters from the yeast pop with a spice and gingerbread that makes it questionable where this blast of orange bitters came from. Its less grand marnier and more maraschino in the swallow.

In parasite Eve the third birthday there’s this insane kill bill style ending where your character both dies and turns into a 12 year old girl. That’s how I feel about this old fashioned beer. It doesn’t align so closely with the cocktail that it feels derivative. However it’s such a meaningful and novel riff on a dubbel (!) base that it’s legitimately impressive.

It’s like learning a Pagani is powered by some old Mercedes 6 liter. It’s quite the transformation. The swallow is tight and bereft of sugars. This make it seem even more like a cocktail but the result might just make you want the actual cocktail.

Start crushing these and wishing everyone Happy Honda days, if they reek of bourbon and reply “we celebrate toyotathon in our house” you shake that neighbors hand and compare parole stories. An old fashioned December to remember.

BALTIC PORTER HOLIDAY SHOWDOWN.

Two DDB favorites square off in the BalticTogon to battle for the favor of Katherine the Great. Stouts too sugary? Try Baltic Porters. Lagers not strong or complex enough? TBP. You want something that will be delicious and stay on drafy because no one will order it? TBP.

Barrique finds a way to make everything more complicated, usually with delicious yields. Foeders and barrels involved on styles that people already were afraid of, you know it. This is interesting because it says that it was lagered in barrels for 10 months, so I am wondering if it was held at cold ferm temps but like, ON THE OAK? Boats and Finland better been involved.

This one is dryer, leaner, more roasted almond meets Good and Plenty type of execution. Barrel is more muted and gentle but provides a praline warmth to the thin frame. The swallow goes from watery to warming in the strangest twist since Bionic Commando finding out that his cybernetic arm is actually his wife. Like why was her soul in your arm. That type of porter.

Fox Farm play things more traditional. Almost too traditional. They craft styles that people have outright forgotten about, or that get homebrew clubs all HORNT up. Their labels don’t even steal IP or perpetuate misogyny so what’s even the point. The Baltic porter is bigger and more non-standard.

Big Jack’s Abbey energy out front here, sticky caramel on the waft with bonded leather. The honey is metabolized out but leaves a trace sort of banana aspect lingering. It’s sweeter and hotter than I anticipated without being corny and predictable like someone who claps when the plane lands. This is a connecting flight to Fargo what are you even doing.

Ultimately, this depends on what you want more cleanliness or ambition. Both do it well but I found I could drink more of the Barrique but the Fox Farm was more engaging. It’s like a Baltic Hallmark movie in my mouth where we return home and black patent malt teaches my palate about the true meaning of lager Christmas. We always knew she would end up with him.