@tiredhandsbeer Handfarm, Barrel aged 500 bottle saison releases? This website was made for this kind of shit.

March 13, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I hope YOUR hands aren’t too tired from stroking it to all these Pennsylvania walez. In today’s review we look at the inimitable Handfarm, a remix portmanteau of farmhands, aged in barrels, waxed and waiting for your touch. If you are new to this site, you might want to read up on Hop Hands before you just go into this review with some dry labias: Here is the cagematch from Saison Marathon yes I know that is a totally different beer. I am putting people up on that Tired Hands tip.

The only thing that can make an awesome saison even more betterer is barrel aging, look what it did to Arthur, took an already good beer to ART beast mode levels. Anyway, so this was a super small release and my balloon knot has been so puckered waiting to put my mouth on this so lets get to it.

God damn this beer is incredible. In the unlikely event that you missed out on the 180 bottles of Ann, please seek this out.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.20% ABV

A: No surprises out of the gate here, it looks very similar to Farmhands with a milky sort of pale straw disposition, folding its arms with microbubbles and some will of the wisp lacing regenerating for one black mana on the edges of the glass. MAGIC THE GATHERING JOKES: WE ARE DOING THEM NOW.

A beer this complex and refreshing that clocks in at 5%? They must have leveled their saison specs so hard. DPS for days.

S: Wow, this reminds me a lot of Ann on the nose with just a huge dry white grape, musk, brett C, a light sweetness like those crescent rolls that people always fight over in commercials, lemon rind, and any candle that is yellow basically (lemon, birthday cake, sunlight, whatever.)

T: This carries more of a floral aspect than I was expecting and it presents a brett c muskiness at the outset that takes me to that vintage Fantome printemps land pretty quickly. There is a ton of complexity in the grain bill, you get sweetness, a light scratchiness as though rye was up in the mix, complicated yeasty profile on the backend that reminds me of banana runts. The yellow ones everyone always be throwing away. Again, this is just incredibly refreshing and the format size and inaccessibility of this beer is almost a complete “fuck you” to anyone without a legit cellar and a Fedex account. I DONT FEEL BAD FOR THEM THEY CAN DRINK HENNEPIN AND FUCK OFF.

This beer is so good, I wish they could just deliver it to my door.

M: This is dry at the outset because of the barrel and the brett c I would wager, think Seizoen bretta land, but the yeast and complex ass malt bill comes in kicking in doors without a warrant, tagging your mouthwalls up with sweetness, biscuit notes, stick floral potted plants on the gumline. When it leaves you don’t even know where to start, someone just farmfucked your mouth but you dont even fill out a police report because you secretly liked it.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and to say that 500ml is not enough is like dropping my monocle in a glass of 1995 Chateau Margoux and complaining about the dry cleaning bill. Most people will never have this, but this review site is not for most people. Chances are, if you are here you already lost most of your regular friends to the beer game. This site is for fucking lifers, guys with beer shivs tucked under their shitty ikea beds. If you want an incredibly refreshing saison, seek this out. It is both complex and restrained at the same time. It was gone before it even arrived.

Taking barrel aged saisons and comparing them is an art not a science

Narrative: Chester Wakely was an average rabbit by any onlooker’s standards. Pronounced bicupsinds, whiskers, nimble, and soft to the touch. He spent his days in a gentle repose amongst the willows and sagebrush, basking in the floral decadence of the springtime sun. Deep down Chester knew that something was different about him. There was a longing complexity to his character that transcended the run of the mill “avoiding predators” and “mating.” Chester would often look across the hills to the Perkinson Vineyard and wonder about those pale yellow grapes lingering on the vine. Those chardonnay casks rolled in and out like the waxing and waning of moons. While he was only 5 lbs and a rabbit, he longed to be get deep into vinification. He lacked opposable thumbs or a developed cortex to execute complex processes, but God damnit, Chester could dream. He would later be hit by a Suzuki Samurai while trying to cross the interstate.

Godspeed, Chester.

@tiredhandsbeer Guillermot Prunus, Saison, Bourbon, wild cherries; YOU DO THE MATH

March 11, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

First and foremost, I would like to bitch that the dark saison market is both not highly contested, nor is it well executed in most instances. The problem I feel lies in the mainstream offerings like “The Perfect Crime” having people be all like “oh that? no…I am good…I will just drink…this actually good beer, no thanks.” Most people are shortsighted and unwilling to jump into the shallows and rub their crotches on some sea anemones. Some are very nice. When you get a really good dark saison, you get to merge the best of those dark fruits with the dirty musky and lactic aspects of the saison world. Everyone wins. I used to hold Civil Disobedience 4 as the standard bearer for the genre. 10 days ago I had a CD4 and today I drank Guillermot Prunus, both are exceptional but god damn it if this prunus did not just stomp on my plums.

Dark farmhouse, like a haunted farm, those places that make Kale and listen to Animal Collective.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.50% ABV

A: At first this pours like a watery porter with a deep secret, or kinda like an American wild with one of those questionably dark base beers like Otiose where you are like “wait whats going on here, style crossing is taking place.” I wouldn’t expect the BJCP in all of their 3oz plastic cup glory to carry this innovative style very far, but look at it, it is not quite a porter look, lil khaki foam, watery legs supporting a bit of residual char to the substrate but washing away exceedingly clean. I can imagine an evil ass farm owner drinking this while looking over his plum fields cracking his knuckles and figuring how to excise greater tithes from his serfs. That kinda shit.

At first you are like “saison” then you be like “bourbon” then the salesman is like “DARK” and then you are locked in a 36 month lease explaining shit to your wife.

S: This, like other well done black saisons is a crazy melange of things taking place at once. The initial blast is a bit of drying roast, then it subsides into a black cherry meets cola sort of finish, you get this lactic underpinning like blackberries and the final waft has a really muted musk to it like pumpernickle bread dipped in cranberry juice. Don’t act like you have never been pregnant and tried it.

T: This sets forth with again that chalky roast and for a split second I have a fleeting feeling of sads like someone soured up an Edmund Fitzgerald, but wait, that was secretly the opening band playing a .5 second set, it goes into a raspberry and black cherry jam sesh, minor and mixolydian scales running this light but musky exection on the backend of the swallow. It isn’t exactly like a porter mixed with a kriek, but, if you had no frame of reference, that would be my best initial description. If you have had Otiose, imagine mixing that with Dark White BBB. In writing we call that concrete DETAILS, contrasting with objective experiences, THIS IS WHY I AM A GOOD WRITER OK.

And suddently, something musky and dark arises on the backend, that is strangely welcome.

M: This is a bit chalky at the outset because the interplay of the roasty malts and lactic acidity of the cherries work against one another, however, once you swallow it executed in harmony like a cherry cordial and it is very, very good. I could merk an entire bottle of this and still show up for my Parole Hearing, all redfaced talking about Walmart is hiring. The 8.5% abv is nonexistent with all of this madness taking place on the palate. It is like when the size 12 Honduran chick sneaks in with a bunch of Ford Models into a club, you realize it the next morning, but by then it is way too late.

D: this is exceptionally drinkable and presents a bevy of dark fruits, slick finish, light lactic aspects and a tannic meets char finish that somehow works like bacon ice cream. It is tart yet savory at the same time and makes me wonder how many Weight Watchers points this is, for some reason they did not even list it on the bottle. I AM WATCHING MY GIRLISH FARMHOUSE FIGURE.

It is dark, amazing, and you just want more of it.

narrative: “so if you take the square of the two sides of the figure what do you get?” Mr. Cerise asked the lackluster 10th grade geometry class. Each student slumped in turn, smacking cherry bubble gum and texting tart badinage with one another. “So no one knows how to circumscribe this figure? What about the area of the sides at least?” Again the cool silence and hum of the air conditioner rolled over the Tucson suburbs. Each middle-class adolescent shifted in their chairs uncaring. The protractors went unused and the complexity of the Euclidian formulas went unappreciated. Mr. Cerise ground his teeth and looked down his brow at the class. The cherry gum smacking stopped and they sensed something far more sinister and dark was taking place. “What if you, let’s say you date raped a girl at this ARBY’S we can call that point A-” the class leaned forward, listening intently on this solemn invocation. “And say she WAS AT FIRST CONSENTING AND YOU TAKE HER TO A PARK, call that point B-” even the ESL students began to perk up at this point, waiting to witness the chilling conclusion of point C. “SO, you are going to want POINT C to be as far as possible from the other points, call it THE ROCK QUARRY OK, listen, I don’t have all the answers.” Mr. Cerise dropped his dry erase marker and ran his wet fingers through his musky dark hair. These 15 year olds had just been schooled on some dark edification.

@thebruery Griffon Bruxellois, Adorable Toy Breeds and Banging Tart Cherries

March 6, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

This beer initially caused a row amongst the land owning barons in the Hoarders Society. The upper class magnates received the opportunity to buy two of these awesome bottles but then THE REGULAR ASS RESERVE SOCIETY MORELOCKS GOT TO BUY A SINGLE BOTTLE. Man that must be what it feels like to watch Firestone Walker release Parabola to all the mealy mouthed masses, them enjoying world class BA stouts without even trading. But in all SRS, this beer is damn good and if you were lucky enough to grab one of these bottles, your cherry has already been popped, leaking all sour on the entryway rug.

OH SHIT INTENTIONALLY ACCIDENTAL HOARDERS CARD CAMEO. like anyone gives a fuck.

The Bruery
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.10% ABV

A: This is not as “dark” as I was expecting from the description, and it isn’t exactly as flat as the sad panda marketing description set forth. If you were in Hoarders, this was the email you got describing it:

We debuted Griffon Bruxellois late in 2012 at a few of our events and it was quite a hit. This dark, sour ale was aged in oak barrels on cherries, giving it an incredible fruit flavor, balanced by the roasted malt and lactic tartness. We must admit, this bottle-conditioned beer didn’t turn out quite as carbonated as we were hoping for, but it is still an incredible beer, 100% worthy of our high standards to be sold, served, shared and enjoyed!

So I was like “oh so like Otiose but flat? Carmen on cherries?” boy was I fucking wrong, this has an amazing deep crimson tone that transitions into fuscia, magenta, Lisa Frank binder pinks and….god damnit…I don’t even want to say it

robey tones.

embrace the delcious cherry hugs, no matter how tart and scratchy they may be

S: This has an incredible blast of lactic fruit roll ups, Gushers juice, tart cherry skins, red Fun Dip dust, and a raspberry finish to it. The acidity is there but complimented by a robust fruit profile. Again, this beer exceeded expectations, one of the best Bruery sours that I have had since Filmishmish.

T: This delivers on complexity beyond simple acidity, you get this round tartness at the outset like shocktarts, no acetic vinegar aspects to speak of, a deep dryness on the gumline, raspberry, black cherry, fruit by the foot, tropical skittles, and uncut pom juice, that white brick raw moving hard in the streets. This is kinda like if you cut Sch. Kriek with a more substantial sour like Consecration, really well done and balanced for days.

Bust this out at a bottle share, people be like

M: This is a bit too dry in some aspects because it is incredibly tart, but if it did not have that aspect it would likely be too sweet from the nice fruit profile so I feel that this is a happy medium that has a tannic finish like a full bodied merlot. Drink water with this and hope those old HSV sores dont be blasting open. wait wut.

D: This is like in movies when a cop is chasing a criminal and he is always like tipping over trashcans and shit, like that is a real obstacle come on. This beer is worth the chase and incredibly drinkable but the dryness and acidity is tossing these tiny obstacles in your way slowing you down slightly from going into 750ml+ levels, but this is a beer that is incredibly easy to take down solo if you have some tums and some Smart Water handy. I wish the allocation was bigger on this so I could freeze it or do some dumb shit, but srs, nicely done beer.

Try to take down a couple bottles of this, be a hero.

Narrative: It was not a lively existence sitting in a Chicago highrise apartment all day long. Brixie received the same general care and attention that other dogs in the area received, daily walks, beard combing, and strolls through gentrified areas for defecation. Somehow Brixie felt that she was missing out on something more. The twinge of her heritage pounded in her hindquarters and she constantly looked east over Lake Michigan and wondered just what was happening in Brussels. She felt like an exemplary demonstration of her heritage, yet some short sighted assholes living in a Corn Cob shaped building might fault her for not BEING FROM BELGIUM. It was their loss, her deep amber coat and tart disposition made her a favorite at all of the AKC competitions. Even the most stringent hater had to respect a Griffon with such poise and depth, that did not even shit on the hardwood floors. Brixie was worthy of veneration, no matter what some narrowminded shit head from the 312 area code might think.

Three Floyd’s Murda’D Out Stout, For When Being Baller Just Isn’t Enough and Your Beer Needs that Persian Appeal

March 4, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Three Floyd’s pushes the limits in two things: 1) hoppiness and 2) the elasticity of my anus for these extremely expensive releases. This beer was a ~800 bottle release priced at a whopping $50 a bottle. Some people might be cracking a Rare and shrugging their shoulders, but for the rest of us not living off of capital gains, $50 for a beer is a serious perineum pounder. Anyway, by way of history, almost 2 years ago, Baller Stout came out and it was $30, and beer nerds were acting like the 4 horsemen of the stoutpacalypse had arrived: a blend of Darkness, Dark Lord, Beer Geek Brunch, and Black Albert. So when they announced this, I knew shit was gonna get real. They did not mention that they aged each component beer in barrels prior to blending for 14 months then CPK “two in a bowled” that stout for this masterpiece. Enough fluffing, let’s get to full on stout ejaculation.

Some people be like “$50 rare bottle and you rock pours like that” yeah welcome to DDB, where we arent poor acorn dicks. Make yourself at home.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
Russian Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This has the slick oiliness like Parabola with a nice beige roast still hiding in the bubbles letting you know there is some unresolved shit going on in there. The pour is deep black but sadly I was expecting it to have a “flat black” sheen to it like those stupid assholes in West Hollywood who want people to know this is THEIR RANGE ROVER AND JUST BECAUSE THEIR DAD PAID FOR IT DOESNT MAKE IT HIS PARENT’S CAR. It is shiny black instead.

What’s that you say? $50 1 per person brewery release? IN THE MIDWEST? Well I never.

S: Holy hell this is a complex beer and you have to pull it apart like an onion, or the psoriasis on your testicles. I feel like that Dark Lord leads with its robed black foot first and supplies a deep black blast of sugar, turbinado sweetness, bakers chocolate and Hershey’s syrup all wrapped in a warm bourbon blankie straight from the dryer. You get this coffee pat on the back from Mikkeller, but fuck Mikkeller, the only reason you are hanging out with Beer Geek anything is because it is surrounded by a ton of hot stout chicks. Darkness finishes things out with a deep roasty dryness and this mallowfoam smell that just lingers like when you wonder how many Taco Bell items that you bought the night before.

T: This taste has the complexity of the above and is like Hungry Hungry Hippos just raping your tastes buds with cascading elbows of roast, then bourbon sweetness, then coffee acidity, and chocolate Stone Cold stunning the fuck out of every taste zone. It reminds me if you took the amazingness of Barrel Aged Dark Lord (any really) and they started tossing on body kits, rims, spoilers, and all kinds of extraneous shit. It is a bit sloppier in execution as a result, but it is genuinely every bit as good. I am so glad that this beer has flown so deeply under people’s respective radars. I guess that $50 price tag and the 1 per person was enough to pucker more than a few buttholes, BUT MY BUTTHOLE REMAINS UNPUCKERABLE.

Drink this stout, then go try a normal ass off shelf offering and be all like-

M: This is sticky on the teeth with residual sugars and stick malts but also slightly wafty from the bourbon and the bitter zones get this deep char, Slippy is just doing barrel rolls all day and doesn’t even need to be saved. I can’t accurately restate the mouthfeel without just putting the aforementioned adjectives in a tumble dryer, so fuck it, if you dont get it this might not be the right place for you.

D: This likely has an ABV above 13% abv and I would drink this shit all day long. No qualifier like “I meant during winter” or some bullshit, I will drink this before my job as a bus driver because everyone knows 1) bus drivers cant get DUIs and 2) no one can get a DUI while the sun is up. It is widely known. The cruelest jokes are always the best beers being the least accessible (INB4 Parabola assholes, I know, I know.) Now forget everything I just said, I dont want you ungrateful assholes ruining my chances at landing another one of these. If you have one, it was not even that good, I will send you some Knee Deep stuff for one. Get at me.

Sure it was $50 and super rare, but try to enjoy yourself at least.

NarratiVe: The life of a Chimera only seemed like a blast from the outside. Sure, you are fierce and amazing, aweinspiring at worst. But what about those other times? Try sharing the duality of identity with a series of united beasts. I was born a lion head attached to the body of a dragon, sharing an L1-L2 spinal segment with a goat head, and an unruly snake as a tail. You think I ever got to finish my memoirs with all those assholes constantly wanting to fly around, raid villages, slay King Cnut’s people, submerge scandinavian sea vessels, and fuck all else? Yeah, no rest to be had at all. The snake is diabetic and constantly complaining about our iron and glucose intake, I swear that fucking goat head just eats anything, peasant huts, cabbage farms; anything. Last week the dragon tried to use our penis to have sex with a Manticore. A FUCKING MANTICORE. Can you imagine the bush on that thing? Having a shared penis is bad enough but, you gotta draw the line somewhere. Sure, I am one piece of a fierce beast, but I have so much more complexity than outsiders ever imagine.

2012 Lost Abbey Cable Car, Bottles Keep Getting Younger and I Stay the Same Ag-…Fuck. Nevermind.

February 27, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, in the interest of complete whaling thoroughness I will review this 2012 Cable Car, the old dark horse in the lineup. About 3 months ago, a bunch of shitmouths all went down to Toronado and split a vert of the bottles like 43 ways based on what I saw on Untappd. Anyway, so we have a shitload of Cable Car experts now. Everyone was pushing their dicks into reubens talking about how this beer was chlorine and OMG THE WERST. So, hating that stepchild 2010 CC, I wanted to see what the business was. I dropped the $50 and skulled this shit, like a responsible reviewer.

OH SHIT POSTING THE SAME PIC THREE TIMES FOR ULTRA HITS, dinner is on me.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: The carb on this one lies somewhere in between the 2008 (Keira Knightley flat) and 2010 (Natalie Portman tits.) It is filling cups, but not with excitement. You get some wispy crackling but it remains about a step about Doesjel and some old ass lambics in this regard. I asked for a dirtier glass to boost nucleation levels but they wouldn’t comply. The cling is minimal, the sheeting is non-existent and it kinda looks like a Dortmunder with deep gold hues, the darkest Cable Car I have seen since that cherry afterbirth apotheosis version.

LOL the cat is speaking Belgian! but the cat is secretly American.

S: There is a lemon zest, but more akin to super fresh farmers market steeze, like zested on a grater with a slight salinity in the air. You get tangelo, mango, white grape, and hard persimmon. This is all to be appreciated against the backdrop of high acidity that is really more tart than it is straight up Upland Lambic sour. I get a little bit of a muskiness like a gose on the finish that a shiteater might mistake for some kind of chlorine, provided you were completely fucking high on paint fumes, or if you got a sick .9oz pour. Either way.

T: This follows through with that classy musk of Cable Car 2010, light cheesiness, but with that delicious acidity and fruitiness that reminded me of the 2008. Again this is a hybrid of those two years and takes a bit from each and improves upon it, like Mylie Cyrus, a voltron of acrimonious cuntery. That is the name of my acoustic Aphex Twin cover band, Acrimonious Cuntery. Come see us in Connecticut. Anyway, so you get a chardonnay without the drying, a sort of nectarine and tart lychee finish to it, butressed again with this light salinity. I disagree on the chlorine/pool water/salt douche comments that some people were making. If you have banged a few Leipzig hoes you will know all about that light saltiness on your knuckles/wrist.

This beer is refined yet filthy at the same time, like Ke$ha in a pantsuit.

M: This is the meanest leanest cleanest (Ciara got sex appeal) mouth feel that I have had in a Cable Car to date. As a result you dont get that lingering dryness, you don’t get the oakiness dryfucking your bitter zones. What you do get is a light juiciness that is incredibly refreshing, closer in execution to a super lactic Berliner, really. This is a welcome spin and would be more at home in hotter weather, migrant worker sweatshops, etc. I need my American Apparrel jeans made in Downtown LA by non-Americans, for unamerican wages, drinking American beers inspired by Belgian styles. SOURS, MIXED RACE MODELS AND HIGH FASHION.

D: This is off the charts drinkable and for the $/oz you are taking it right down the shaft like a chlamydia test. It is seriously disheartening how fast it disappears. You lose a bit on the dryness that reigns this shit in, but as a result it is more approachable and awesome. You know how a Fender Telecaster has that short neck for ladyhands, perfect for playing Wonderwall and getting those EXPRESS thongs off, but you can’t do sick ass shredding. Then again, sometimes you dont want Dragonforce melting your face, sometimes you want a Night Court marathon to relax to. The people who like this Cable Car best are those contrarian assholes who say that JACKIE BROWN WAS TARANTINO’S BEST WORK NUANCED AND MOST PEOPLE DONT GET IT. I get it, this Cable Car is slowly, subtle, and doesn’t blow anyones fucking head off. Better than 2010, but that’s about it. That’s kinda like big leaguing on the kid who lives in Section 8 housing with his aunt though.

Pop open a $50 bottle of world class beer, put on those jammy jams, and get to chillin.

Narrative: “Ring a clink dernk-” the chimes rang in an off-minor fashion. The city had never approved the financing for the business improvement district and as a result the downtown trolley had fallen into woeful disrepair. It only ran from Fashion Bug to Little Samoa and usually smelled like curry. The seats were all worn and someone spraypainted “NIKO IS A SHITDICK” on the side of the trolly 3 months ago and it was never addressed. To be fair, Niko was a shit dick though. The passengers were supposed to get this whiff of nostalgia, like they were living in the gilded age of oppressive factories and limited social benefits, but instead they lived in the modern times where corporations were just doling out high wages and benefits. It had seen the marks of time and it made some of the Matlock watching passengers smile, but to the average person it was a blemish in the heritage of public transportation and Cable Cars in general. A guy in an ECKO jacket sat in the back row with his clearly underaged girlfriend and rode to the end of the line, Fashion Bug and depression for all riders.

2010 Lost Abbey Cable Car, The Worst Year of Them All is Still Better Than Most All Other Beers

February 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright back down to business, fucking eastern europeans and slaying onsite only walez. This vintage is the one most people have the most complaints about, good ole 2010. When I say most people, I mean “prissy fucking beer nerds” you know, the guys who look like lumberjacks but watch Deep Space Nine, those kinda people. So everyone loves 2009, 08 has a great character, 07 is the famous wale, and kriek is a monster on its own, but what about this asshole, the 2010? Well, let’s pick this shitbasket apart in today’s review.

Back in 2010 you were still working on that GED

The Lost Abbey
California, United States

Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This is pretty similar to the other cable cars in the trolley lineup, deep orange hues, some amber at the center and dark yellowing at the edges. This is the darkest of the Cable Cars that I have had, but still delivers on carbonation and lacing. So if you are the tired ass jokester making Kentucky/Rare jokes and Three Floyd’s burned down fucking quips, look, a carbonated Lost Abbey beer, go watch Paul Reiser standup.

Here to slay walez and amuse the fuck out of you. SING ME A SONG DDB.

S: This has a nice lactic waft of peaches and apricots at the outset but something is slightly amiss at the backend, a type of lavender/grassy aspect is on the back end and I really cant place it as a hoppy presence because it doesn’t quite seem vegetal, it is almost like something from Bed Bath and Beyond or some weird shit. That aspect is why this is like the jankiest Ferrari on the lot, that is the Cable Car lineup. Also, this one comes the closest on delivering a true overseas full Belgian prostitute completion. The waft has this mushroom meets crushed yard trimmings funkiness to it that the other sour patch kids do not have. It is more complex, but flawed as a result. Think of the musk in Doesjel if you need clarification.

T: This imparts that tart acidity that was expected, but also drops a nice cheesy/leather aspect when it finishes. You get a bonus deal of fruits and some dairy, if you know what I am saying. If you don’t, you are at the wrong fucking website, go try reddit.com/beer or some other shit. I like the nectarine going on but again that bitter earthy finish makes this my least favorite of the san francisco treats.

Pop a Cable Car. Pick up chicks.

M: This is extremely dry, but also funky that leaves this lingering bitterness as well. If you can imagine an imperial glass of chardonnay paired with a semisoft cheese, that is the mouthfeel through and through. Some people like it, other people jack off to Lena Dunham. I am not here to tell you what to crank it to.

D: This is, despite its faults, actually one of the more drinkable Cable Cars because of the complexity and it ratchets back the acidity. Hell, maybe it balances it out, I am not a chemist. At any rate, the end product is something like buying a Z4, it is still very nice, but for the money and effort there are far better offerings in both Cable Car and other breweries alike. If you just want to be a completionist and get the tick, this one should be the easiest to lock down. If you are seeking a 2007, good fucking luck, you will need to bust out Bolt Cutter or some serious walez for that.

When people make fun of you for only having the 2010 CC vintage be like-

Narrative: Paul’s Toyota Supra Dealership in Billings, Montana wasn’t the best business entity from the get go. Paul Sharpe knew that going into things. Everyone told him “hey maybe open it up to other import sports cars” or “hey maybe rural Montana isn’t your target market. Paul didn’t give a shit. He loved his art and wanted the world to see the Toyota Supra in the same light that he did. From the lowly Supra Celica to the glorious Paul Walker MKIV Supra, his twin turbos spooled hard in his heart for this obscure automotive gem. Of all the Toyota sports cars on his lot, he had the hardest time moving the ultra shitty MKII. No one wanted that god forsaken turdbox. It looked like something from Blade Runner meets a run down Transformer. A relic from an earlier time whose purpose had been lost over the ages. Somehow, old Paul had an affinity for even the shittiest of Supras and wanted everyone else to love the early-80’s for what they were, not what they remembered of them.

1991 De Neve Gueuze, A Beer That Is Older Than Your Girlfriend, sicko.

February 11, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Finally DDB is getting back down to business and reviewing old ass beers, walez, Mr. International fedex player with a passport. In today’s review we review a 22 year old musky banger from across the pond. When this beer was brewed, you probably were like 6 years old, pre-pog phase, maybe you were starting to get hella into Nirvana and mainlining heroin, who am I to judge? Bust out those Anchor Blue jeans for this barely legal review.

Aint nobody tryna fuck with some ode ass beer. Actually everyone is.

De Neve Gueuze
Belgium 5.2%
Likeyougiveafuck

A: Straight out of the gates, this asshole gets all AARP on you and slowly and gently lays itself into the glass like a warm easy chair for some episodes of Matlock. It has this turbid aspect that gives off this dull brown aspect with dark yellowing at the edges like costume jewelry that your nana loves to wear in the bath. The carbonation is there, but just barely, also like your nana.

If you are old to the beer game, you probably never tried his, if you are a 2012 n00b, you probably offered up a Cherry Rye for this. Fuck everyone.

S: This has a beautiful acidic lactic profile but it is covered on cobwebs, horse barn musk, I get a bunch of orange/tamarindo aspects but again, the old paper meets sex attic is overwhelming. This isn’t as musky as OLD ASS BRABANTIAE but it is a page out of that same playbook. Some people search 50+ on Zoosk, some people like this kinda shit, get your shine on.

T: This follow through with a big acidic and lactic profile, no signs of offputting oxidation which is shocking, all things considered. There is a melon wrapped in cardboard aspect to this, and I don’t know if seeking out a 1991 gueuze and saying “past its prime” even makes any fucking sense because, you ordered the sex swing, you mounted it, now you are mad because people are judging you? This is truly original and makes me wonder what the fresh version tasted like, because the brett and musk aspects have taken to dominate this beer, like in Back to the Future II when Biff takes over. Maybe you like musk and old comic books covered in juice. Papercut your dickhole. See if I care.

M: This is both dry, thin, and yet expansive and vaporous due to the musk and funk that this beer presents. Again, this is like going to antique stores or running your hands over a bunch of polyester clothes in a thrift store. It is awesome and novel but feels a little dirty. You come home with some stupid tin signs and are edified as a result.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I could put away a 750ml and not even share like a complete asshole. However, with full disclosure, it was either this beer or the 2 orders of XXL Nachos that I ate, but I got massive deuces. Some could say that the records were subpoenaed, even. This will tear up your guts like Peter North. Listen for it. That is the sound of my readers googling Peter North, now that is the sound of HR calling them into the conference room.

You can be old as hell, but still enjoy things, even if you will grow up to be a murderous waterhorse.

Narrative: Clarence Masterson had seen quite a few things in his day. It wasn’t just that he was old, God knows he was, however in 1991 he got on a spaceship with Fred Savage. Most people know this autobiographical documentary as Flight of the Navigator, however, the unsung song of 11 year old Clarence is often overlooked. Clarence was a stowaway on the ship long after Fred Savage left. His body was accelerating faster than light, aging, yet in perpetual stasis. After a respite in the cosmos, Clarence landed in the distant year 2013, to find a world changed drastically. First and foremost, he was 33 year old at this point, yet still looked exactly like a 13 yar old boy. His urged to tax both young and old poon were unacceptable. He was an anomaly in a world of fast paced communication. Clarence was too old for the ear flicking hijinks of 7th grade, yet unable to pick up lot lizards at local bars. He read about a Youtube dwarf who experienced a similar problem, but even that was not the same. He longed to discuss Keynesian economics, but didn’t even have pubes. He was old and young at the same time, the tip of Zeno’s paradox perpetually cleaving his reality, forever alone and soured as a result.

Dark Horse Three Guys Off the Scale SOUR VERSION, Apparently if you ruin beer, you can just call it SOUR VERSION

February 8, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Let’s clear the air right away: I love bourbon barrel plead the 5th. It is one of my favorite BB stouts out there, without qualification. That being said, there have been a series of questionable ass releases from those metal brewers up in ~~depressing ass Norway~~ Michigan. First, Fore Stout was a weird thin smokey mess. Then Borubon Barrel Mosnter 29 was somehow thinner, boozier, yet with a lower ABV than regular Monster 29 and was totally imbalanced. After I opened this actual monster, I figured I would work Dark Horse over with a bicycle chain for a bit in today’s review

BEAUTY CONTEST WINNER: DO NOT PASS GO.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States

Style | ABV
American Barleywine | 15.00% ABV (? I guess)
The bottle didn’t say, so I just assumed that the infected mess was similar in attenuation/bugs/vermin levels.

A: Beauty contest winrar alert: a beer this is. Look at that sloppy merlot mess. Are you drinking a 1500 bottle waxed release because the dead flat pour looks like you are enjoying some Kendal Jackson Merlot at an Applebees. No bubbles at all, it’s like a pour straight from a carboy, as lackluster as that dumbass new Jason Bateman movie, and equally predictable. The sheeting is clear and intense, with no residual sugars to balance out this imbalaced ass scale. And look at that janky ass label, was this approved? It looks like some homebrewer printed that shit off a HP Bubblejet printer, I had it in my fridge for like 4 days and the condensation already had that ink running like mascara on a fat girl’s face after prom.

If this is a sign of sours and old ales to come, I am out.

S: Well I hope you like red apple vinegar, now mix in with your Melange 3. That is exactly what is going on here, there is this fusel cherry jolly rancher with a splash of a musky cabernet. It honestly reminds me of “accidentally” soured home brews where it straddles both genres so hard that it barely qualifies as either a wild or an old ale. Leave a fruit by the foot in a locker for a week, then enjoy it, you have just had Three Guys off the Scale, you won the beer game.

T: The rabbit hole goes deeper, take that classic caramel and nice roast from Hair of the Dog Adam, now go ahead and dump some acrimonious vinegar into it, but don’t even blend it to taste, just Bobby Flay that shit from shoulder height. The finish is intensely dry and I don’t know if it is oak or if it just busted open HSV sores in my mouth that I didn’t even know were there. It finishes with a taste I can only describe as “currency.” One time when I was a kid I clutched a bunch of dimes and went to the store and bought some candy, so sweaty ass coins and Skittles, that is basically what is going on here. Not exactly a panty dropper, even by Michigan standards, where a size 10 is literally a dime, that is top of the line.

Give your kids this beer early on, it will Uncle Donald their asses into hating beer.

M: This is dry, cracking, yet sickeningly fusel at the same time. The completely tepid nature doesn’t do it any favors, it just lays there and gets pounded like Ben Kingsley in Gandhi trying to get his vote on. I don’t want to pound this point home further but, there is no way this was intentionally sour, nor could it have passed the QC panel. I tasted “One” and it is a legitimate oatmeal stout, this, this is like if they left the brewing doors open and they let a bunch of disadvantaged Detroit youth try their hand at real world working times as a brewer. Then sold it.

D: On a scale from one to “call an oral surgeon” this is a Bluelady. If you don’t know what that means, you are lucky, this was incredibly difficult to finish and I even let it warm up and well, that was a mistake, this beer went HAM and was like “THIS ISN’T EVEN MY FINAL FORM!!!” and turned into a huge infected hydra, like most people’s ex-wives. I could barely get this down while watching The Room, I was like OH HAI DOGGY.

This beer is off the scale

Narrative: Liz Wilkerson thumbed the elastic waistband of her Lane Bryant stretch pants and looked out over the desolate Michigan winter. She looked over the gazing starlets in US! Weekly and longed to be like Zooey Deschanel, wearing clothes that did not come from Fashion Bug or Tuesday Morning. She ran the tips of her fingers over the smooth fissures of her stretch marks, reminders of where she had been, and where she could not return. Life working at Michigan’s most esteemed winery was fine, for the 4 months of the year that the vines got sun, but the rest of the time she looked out upon the cold dead poplars and wondered what those tropical ass people in Kansas were up to, much less Floridians. She tried her best, but no one wanted her, at least not in her current state, she was on and off the scale, constantly mulling over her appearance, bemoaning other more beautiful girls, girls whose incisors actually made contact. She was big, sour, ungainly, and unwanted, and everyone in Flint knew it.

Bullfrog Blue Condition Wild Ale, For PA Residents Still Hoping for Walez From That Aging Matriarch

January 29, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I am going to address the residents of Pennsylvania for a moment here, so everyone else with dental insurance can tune out for a second: Bullfrog will not return to its previous glory. It was a marvelous time, but that age is over. I know you look longingly at Blue Cheer and Black Cherry Bomb and Bee Keeper and think of those simpler times but those beers were released back when it was illegal to hook up with chicks born in 1990. Now that is totally legal and the current state of affairs is in god damn shambles. People were all full sail when Oud 15 came out and the rest of us were all like “wait, 13% wild ale no one has tasted that everyone wants to trade away, hold on a second.” I know an anal bleaching when I see one. Anyway, let’s see what Bullfrog is up to in today’s growler only release, for the haters.

Frog Stomp. We are making Silverchair references now.

Bullfrog Brewery
Pennsylvania, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.00% ABV

Because today we will be stomping…on Frog…God damnit you probably didn’t even lift in the 90s.

A: The carbonation is minimal and I don’t really want to blame fedex for this because I feel that some of this has to do with the body of the beer itself, which is on a Natalie Portman level of thinness and flatness and lacking tits in general. The look is a bit darker than I like my wild ales, but I don’t want to get things in a maltist ass prejudicial discussion. The dull copper and amber is nice but nothing to break out the charcoal set and draw like one of your French girls.

It is a down economy, I should be grateful for brewery only growler only releases, but, I am an insouciant prick. I dont even like beer.

S: This is really muted and the acidity just kinda lays there with a light berry tannin that lets you pump away for $120, but doesn’t get into it. It is all business for this old blue cheer, and no one reads reviews of ~~escorts~~ beers anyway. Hey, you want some worse news? You have a full 64 ounces of this to deal with, AND YOU JUST FINISHED ASSASSIN’S CREED III. There is a bit of oak and some really tame acidity like the inside of a fruity pebbles box, but it is like that point during hooking up when you realize that you arent going any further than fingerbanging, and you have to leave the Hardee’s parking lot and drive home with your hand smelling all like Progresso soup. Kinda disappointing.

Two whole liters of this? Can I cho cho choose to drink something else?

T: This is incredibly thin and simple in execution with a sort of metallic meets fusel alcohol character that is quickly covered by a sort of gushers/fruit roll up berry aspect. This comes across kinda like a weird Belgian golden that got mixed up with a weird berry gang so then you see them and you are like all “ok, a gang of Hmongs….wait…is that a fruit of the looms guy?” The aftertastes is kinda like Mike N Ike’s but in a movie theater sort of “fuck my mouth tastes like plastic” sort of way.

I thought I was gonna have some bad ass blueberry blabaer wild ale Cable Car hybrid, instead I got smashed frogs and berries

M: This would help if they didn’t decide to attempt to pound 8% abv into what is essentially a Honda CRX chassis. This is far too thin for what they were attempting to accomplish, give me something to hold onto. Ladies, you ever hook up with a swimmer and get creeped out because he is all smoothe? JUST KIDDING WOMEN DO NOT READ THIS WEBSITE YOU JUST HAD HOMOSEX THOUGHTS.

D: This is thin enough that you would think it would be something that you could take down easily but I shared this 2L growler and was bored pretty early into this endeavor. I actually started watching Do the Right Thing while I was drinking this and the beer was somehow worse than that shitty one dimensional movie, so one a scale from one to Spike Lee, this is Radio Rahim.

If the past 3 years of beer have been disappointing, maybe you should blame the PA beer reviewers?

Narrative: “You sure you don’t need a ride home Mike?” Mrs. Chalmers offered to Mike while he sat and pounded his mitt looking off into the pouring down rain waiting for his absentee brother. It has been a long time since Mike’s brother Devin had done anything right for him, constantly abandoning him at practice, forgetting to support him, despite this he longed for that day when amazing things would happen again. He thought back to 2006 when life was good, things were simple, they would practice apiary and pick black cherries but now it was a series of let downs and even his friends went to hang out at Tired Hands Day Camp, which seemed to offer more fun activities than his asshole brother could muster these days. It wasn’t Mike’s fault, he was just living in the past, but the thinly veiled metaphors kept passing him on.

Avery Odio Equum, Proof that not all Sours Are Created Equal (AMBIGUOUS TITLES FTW)

January 16, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Man everyone is all kinda of butthurt about 12oz Black Note and just when the midwest about to sit on a rubber donut, Kopi Luwak Speedway comes out and prolapses their beer anuses even further. I wanted to get away from stouts for a bit to survey something we don’t get enough of on this site: MEDIOCRE ASS SOUR BEERS. Avery has turned out some solid beers in their 13 different offerings, but they have also lobbed some vinegar grenades that are like a Tempe taint after a long bike ride. This is closer to the taint side, but not for the reasons you would expect. IN WRITING WE CALL THAT A CLIFFHANGE-

Odio, sour odio,…would a rose by any other name taste as butyric?

Avery Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.10% ABV

A: This has a deep muddy crimson aspect to it with burnt sienna meets magenta all up in the mix and very little wispy carbonation that subsides almost instantly. It looks kinda like if you took Consecration and beat its ass so bad that when you get into the beer hospital it is all taped up and all you can do it pat its hand and assure Consecration that they will find whoever did this to it.

You come expecting a fruity treat and leave with a savage bite.

S: This smelled like red wine vinegar at the outset when it was really cold and then I realized that I was beating a peanutbutter cunt drinking a beer at like 45 degrees, so I went and watched an episode of MTV Catfish to feel better about myself and returned. When I came back, the vinegar had spread its legs and introduced a minor aspect of some cranberry with a light blackberry on the backend, like the smallest dirtiest child in a foster home. There was some serious sour abuse going on here. WHO IS IN CHARGE OF THIS ACETYL HOUSE OF ILL REPUTE?

T: This just seriously goes butyric and tart to the point that it almost has a salinity to it. I don’t mean this in the sloppy labia crybaby way like when people try Cantillon for the first time, I mean this is one note, and that one note is not enjoyable, like the movie White Chicks. You get this intense grenadine meets soda left out after a sleepover, there is a bit of oak drying your gumline and giving you cankersores, the vinegar dryness finishes strong and lets you know that you aren’t welcome in Colorado. I want to say “oh but the fruit profile balances out the blahblahstrokingitblah” but I cannot. The fruit is like when you see a crew of homies and there is the one super small dude who does most of the out of the way tagging. It is hardly the dominant person up in the mix. This is not horrible, it is not as bad as something like Pipeworks Blue Lady, but YOU FEEL LIKE AVERY PHONED IT IN.

Once you open this, something seems very off.

M: See above, as dry as the scenery and acting in Lawrence of Arabia, painful almost. I let it warm to see if there was some complexity to this, but at best it feels like the beautiful Consecration got wasted and boned the horrible Allagash Vagabond and this beast was the result. AND HERE WE ARE TO PICK UP THE PIECES. This is simply too tart in a way that has no redeeming balance. People who don’t know shit will be like “AHHH YEAHH I LOVEEE SOURSS LIKE THISS, YOU JUST…YOU CANT…HANG” I killed 2010 Weyerbacher Riserva myself, I dont need some weak penis lecture on sour beers, this lacks balance and YOUR TASTEBUDS ARE FUCKING WRONG.

D: Not very.

Alright I guess I have to say more than that unless I want this to look like a shitty youtube review. The biggest problem is the dryness that has no balance from the fruit or barrel characteristics. Perhaps a malties base beer would have offset the effects of the salty vinegar dryness, I don’t know, my job is to bitch and complain. If you come into this expecting some 2007 Rodenbach Grand Reserve treat, prepare for sads. You would be better served with a Duchess, better still Supplication, even more so Consecration. Or, call me crazy, stop being a poor fuck and spend $20 on Bruery Oude Tart and give your grandkids something to be proud of you for.

When it kicks in, you feel it in your jaw. And testicles.

Narrative: Francis Brackery bought a crumbling house on a fallow raspberry farm. No one thought to tell him that berries would not grow well in central Nebraska, and as a result he was bitter and acrimonious to the core. Children would come to his house on Halloween, dressed in their shabby Nebraska costumes, Austin Powers, the Mask, lots of recycled items from other wealthier states, and he would give them hard unripe fruit in their pillow sacks. Francis looked out the window and heard the crabapples bounce off of his windows, hard and unwanted. One day while poking around in the cellar, he found a false wall that extended into a substantial underground chamber with rows and rows of crabapple vinegar. “FINALLY A TURN OF LUCK FOR OLD FRANNY BRACKERY!” he exclaimed, knocking a pot over onto his J Crew khakis, burning his genitals severely. The neighbors being from Nebraska were naturally as poor as the day is long and could offer no help. Now old man Brackery just rocks in his glider on the porch, looking into his mangled crabapple burns, thinking of what could have been.

dontdrinkbeer

Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

Category Archives: barrel aged