For many, this will be their first khaki whale adventure. If anyone needs a proxy, hit me up.
Mid-level boss, join RS and land this.
Final level boss: land a keg of this.
Well it has finally come to this, wales of a certain age. It is not necessarily the whitest whale in the world like say SdM, Dave, or M, but, suffice it to say, it is up there. Let’s just get this out of the way: I received this in a vacuum sealed vial. Everyone was up in arms and the balls tripped were substantial. Second, yes it is a 4 ounce pour. I know I usually give other beer sites a mouthful of shit for small pours and shitty reviews but, I am giving myself an executive pardon, because fuck you. You….you ride the bus. Anyway, let’s get elbows deep in blubber in today’s review:
I was so faded after killing this massive pour, couldn’t drive, couldn’t function.
De Struise Brouwers
Belgium
Lambic – Unblended | 7.00% ABV
What makes this fucking beer so rare and sought out, other than the fact that it is almost 30 years old? Well, Starting with a Lambic grist bill composed of 70% barley malt and 30% unmalted wheat. No yeast was artificially added to the wort, but was exposed for two days to the open air in one of Struise’s plastic tunnels at the Noordhoek Ostrich Farm. First fermentation took place in second hand sherry oak casks for six weeks. 200 grams of Northern cherries per litre and the Roeseleire yeast strain were added after six months, provoking a new fermentation process. Eight months later, we pumped over the young ale to oak casks and let it mature for another 3 years. This project was realized after a tasting of the same recipe Urbain once made 20 years ago and was barrel aging in his garage in De Panne eversince and while he was in Africa and forgot all about it. This version is the original version that he completely forgot about, not the blended version. Gangster.
A: Just look at how beautiful this beer looks. There is a huge garnet meets translucent ruby quality to it. Some people lose their shit when I use “ruby” as an adjective, let’s call him Eric, anyway, that is exactly what it is. Amazingly, it still had a tiny wispy crackle of carbonation that sustained nicely. There was no lacing to speak of but, come on, this beer is 30 years old you perfectionist. This has a look of a framboise meets kriek in the best way possible, like pulling two two lambics at the at the same same damn time (time).
S: This has an amazing raspberry and ripe strawberry aspect to the nose that leans towards fresh Farmers’ Market than the simple juicy acidity that some fruited lambics embrace. There is a deep acidity but the stage that all of this takes place on is a huge musk like the depths of a dog grooming salon. There is this intense attic meets old yearbook funkiness to it that reminds me of the way that Brabantiae took me back to the past. “Comparing one wale to another whale, thanks a lot asshole.” Sorry, that’s the most adept way that I can describe it, beer harder or GTFO.
OPERATION: JIMMY RUSTLING was a complete success.
T: This follows the nose identically and presents a tart cherry acidity at the outset that sublimates into a nice tannic profile and that funky musk follows with an incredible dryness. The pour was so small that I essentially got 5 swallows of this before it was gone, so take all of this as a shittier than usual standard of my other reviews but, that being said, this is easily one of the best lambics that I have ever had, it is more complex than Hommage and more drinkable than Blabaer. This is like the Mechazord of fruited lambics and haters always tryna watch the throne.
M: This is incredibly dry but the light sweetness of the fruit provides relief with the same hand that takes it away. The cobweb and stale dustiness of the backend looks onward from a cherry podium compelling the acidity to push onward, through the annals of time.
whalez in the trap
wale whalez in the trap
wealz in the trap
slaying whalez in the trap
D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the funk interplay with the acidity balances this sweet nectar like a Hatori Hanzo sword and this shit will dice you up. I feel like a douchewaffle recommending this or calling it drinkable because if you 1) find a bottle of this and 2) drink it to yourself, you are a dick. Hopefully this review made the pants of beer nerds a lil tighter, if not, I will beer harder.
This beer is mind blowing, wrap your palate around that.
Narrative: The brackish spray of the Caspian Sea blew wispy clouds of mist around the hull of the S.S. ISO:FT$4$IP. Captain Brock Wellington looked out upon the vast expanse of the horizon, ever scanning for the beast that had eluded him so many times before. “Captain! THIS MAKES NO SENSE! We have been searching for over 29 years for this beast in what amounts to the world’s largest lake. There is no way that a whale would still reside here.” Captain Wellington expectorated upon the deck and turned swiftly upon his false leg crudely constructed out of an empty Jereboam bottle. “YOU THINK THIS IS ABOUT A SIMPLE ANIMAL! No Jerves, you misunderstand why we have set out day after day, we are seeking not an animal, but a mythical 30 year old beast, an underwater sea unicorn, FOR HER TEARS ARE THE CHERRY SOBS OF SERAPHIM.” Jerves clutched the round robin in his pocket and knew at that moment that his captain has gone full on batshit. Just then a deep spray gurgled over the starboard side and the air was redolent with raspberries. “THAR SHE BE!” Captain Wellington cried out and watched a mythical filthy horse raise from the depths, flying on dirty ostrich wings, sobbing mournfully with a menacing howl. “MAN THE MAGNUMS! CATCH EVERY LAST DROP!” The crew steered the Manowar deftly and caught the red mist, inhaling liquid magnificence. For a small moment, it was not about the hunt, it was the satisfaction of conquests fulfilled. They pooled together a total of 4 ounces and presented it to their jubilant captain. He slowly sipped the vial to completion and then jumped into the salty depths below. No round robin was necessary, for having tasted the sweet tears of unicorn angels, his life was complete. walesbro.
Ah those old 13,000 bottle release shelfwales, they have entered our fair community with panache and aplomb that would make even Balzac blush. This has been a noticeable oversight for quite some time and beer nerds have often asked me why this beer of all the variants was so scornfully cast out of the house like a coffee drinking Latter Day Saint. The simple answer is: this is the worst of the BCBS variants. Now it is still BCBS at heart so that is like saying that the Gallardo is the shittiest lambo; it will still get you some lackluster handjobs. Let’s look at what kinda beans this beer is grinding in today’s review:
Oh shit, the elusive non-standard toaster shot. This is like the BCBVS rookie card up in this mix.
Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.00% ABV
A: Get ready for some serious Hitchcock twist to this review: IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE BCBS. There are no raw pieces of vanilla or flecks of artisnal beans up in this medium. It is just deep dark murky blackness with minimal lacing, light sheeting and carbonation that phones it in harder than the Miami Dolphins. Not a particularly beautiful beer but, whatever, I AM JUST LOOKING TO LAND A BOOS WITH THIS ALRIGHT.
I feel bad for anyone who drops crazy bottles on this in a trade, you know that feel.
S: This is overridingly sweet, not in that Bruery White Chocolate fashion where you give it a playful shove, like so sweet that you ask it to pull over so you can get out. This has the roast and charming marshmallow meets oak profile with coy little chocolate peeking downstairs at mama bourbon wrapping presents, then holy fuck, Papa Vanilla comes home and starts making declarative statements about how he pays that bills and no one respects him. This is just sweet sticky vanilla extract overload that ends up coming across less like an Oreo/Coffee/Chocolate treat, and more like the lipsmackers lip balm from all those chicks you weren’t making out with in 9th grade.
T: This starts out pretty awesome as BCBS is wont to do, then vanilla jumps with its sweet cloying claws like the T1000 getting dragged behind what would have been a pleasant stout journey to Skynet. There’s a chocolate and coffee presence and vanilla adds this Torani syrup quality like drinks from Starbucks that prevents everyone from getting laid, just beanblocking. This beer seriously makes me just want a regular old BCBS and to leave this sticky sweet interloper out of things, a boy can dream.
This beer tries too hard and ends up coming out as a lesser product as a result. JUST BE YOURSELF BCBS, WE LIKE YOU FOR YOU.
M: This has a generous coating and leaves a deep lingering roast, char, sweet milk chocolate and guess who is riding shotgunning, fucking Vanilla, messing with the radio controls making you listen to Static X and other shit you don’t need or want. I am not saying this is worlds worse than even ::gasp:: BRAMBLE, but what I am saying is that, it would have been better if what makes it so desired was left out. No one is pining after megan Fox because she has toe thumbs, its just something you put up with for the rest of the package.
D: This is less drinkable than every other variant and as it warmed I wish I shared this with someone. Again, this is not a bad beer, it is still BCBS at heart, but you just wish it would cool it with the Baskin Robbins sticky sweet overload. The vanilla is distracting and the types of things that this beer is commanding at this point is downright confusing to me, but then again, toottoot shelfwalez only get more rarerer and not less rare, no walez on the train, mixed metaphor leaving the station. vrroooooom.
Disagree with the midwest cadre about one of their crown jewels? Fuck the police.
Narrative: “Ok here he comes, he’s walking up the drivewa- oh no, his cousin Nigel Beansington is with him, everyone get down get ready to yell surprise!” All of Mark’s friends hid in his small one bedroom apartment and could smell Nigel’s sickeningly sweet DKNY APPLE cologne as he entered the room. “AND SO I TOLD THEM IT WOULD BE OBVIOUS TO YOU THAT THEY WERE PLANNING A SURPRISE PART-” “SURPRISE!” the crowd groaned in unison. Nigel had ruined things again. He was sweet enough and it was hard to fault his blissful ignorance but he just always ended up in places that he did not belong. “Ya see? Told ya, surprise party, obvious right?” Nigel quipped and pushed a finger into the uncut birthday cake and ate a dab of frosting. “EWW BUTTERSCOTCH frosting, what is this a COSTCO, oh KIRKLAND, ya KIRKLAND means Costco cake.” The party universally exhaled and reflected how this overpowering asshole ruined what would have been an incredible affair.
I enjoy almost all of Founder’s releases, so long as no one brings up Cerise. I figured I would grind the stones of one of the most reputable breweries and review a style that is completely offputting to me for maximum lulz. If you are one of those shitstains that actually loves scotch ales, maybe you won’t empathize with today’s review, hey, even I was misguided enough to love amber ales at one point. No one is perfect.
Torani syrup be creepin, tempting me to make a vanilla variant all up in this bitch.
Founders Brewing Company
Michigan, United States
Scotch Ale / Wee Heavy | 10.20% ABV
A: dark caramel color with hues of deep blood red amber, moderatee carbonation, one finger head with light lacing. If you like the color of pennies in a coinstar machine, this beer is for you. Maybe it is just my distrust of the Wee Heavy empire, but something about this style just looks dull and unappealing to me. Shine up that armor Daedalus, show a lil scottish luster.
You go into this expecting one thing, and confusion ensues.
S: there’s an intense cherry and alcoholic sweetness, very sweet on the nose, lots of turbinado sugar with notes of caramel, no surprise here you get some bourbon, caramel sweetness, and oak dominates as this thing warms up. Again, this is certainly its own style but it makes me long for an English Barleywine or even a light old ale.
T: in the front of the beer is a slightly smoky sweetness, caramel notes, hops are understated but well done, just enough to balance out the sugar blast of the malt, again, this may be a problem with the style, but it just feels like candy water, with not enough complexity to justify it. Definitive beet sugar and slight boozy note that gives a little warmth on the palate, the oak is pervasive throughout with vanilla and bourbon notes on the backend. I once knew a dude who physically cut the top of his Oldsmobile Cutlass off, it’s bold moves like that that some people love, this is a bold move into dubious territory.
Ultimately, this offering might be a bit too strange for me, despite the grounding in novel territory
M: for all the bourbon, oak, vanilla, and caramel cherry notes, youd figure that it would have a malty chewiness to it, but that is not the case, it is surprisingly thin. A noteworthy hybrid between a belgian quad and an amber, with the boring effect that a cross-section of those two would produce. It’s Punnett’s square, recessive edition. Again, if you love this style, it is dead on for the style and pretty much as good as it gets for this genre, no alerections inspired by this offering.
D: Very drinkable and boasts a ton of diversity. I could give this to plenty of friends in a lot of different situations, illegal timbering, amateur meth lab creation, ice road trucking, all kinds of stuff. Does something being diverse make it good? Well I guess in the way your tomboy girlfriend can feel at home in a summer dress or equally gangly in wrangler cutoff jean shorts: diversity.
It’s like a blend of two familiar things, with strange results.
Narrative: You could feel the idle particles of dust drape upon you bit by bit, your unused glass with a wanting pallor for the warm touch of active paper. They knew what you were when they took you home from Staples: An All In One. Sure you’re not not exceptional at scanning, what with your plastic internal parts, but YOU CAN DO IT. Sure you may not print the best photos with your blotchy low quality ink, but IT CAN BE DONE. Faxing? You’ve got that covered, in a halfhearted, paper jam, off-contrast sorta way. But it is still faxing. The perfect package for a man who needs to a variety of things, very little of the time. Oh, here comes a formidible 5th grade sciene projec- oh I see, they just opted to take a picture with their camera phone and email it to themselves instead of your very capable scanning parts. Perhaps variety is the spice of life, but boring needless diversity, that’s more like UC Davis.
Here’s a top 100 that I have lovingly overlooked for a while, like that sweet middle child whom you neglect the shit out of. Anyway, I am sure all of my readers have had this beer so I decided to bust a straight up GALEN OLD SCIENCE TWIST ON YOU: BATCH 1. That’s right, we dusted off the genie bottle for today’s review. You are welcome.
I hope you enjoy my instagramme` photo. I have had Supplication plenty of times, but I washed out this photo to show that I had it before it was cool. Back then wild ales were just called beers, you wouldn’t understand their early work
Russian River Supplication
American Wild Ale – 7% abv
A: Thick three finger head wit a red character to it, light amber with plenty of carbonation, well at first, then it reduces down to nothing. Age has not treated the beauty of this beer favorably and the saggy lactic malt tits are in need of a lift. There is sediment bouncing lazily throughout the glass, but it’s like old salty grandma from the 2008’s, you just nod and smile.
Berries be banging. Just wanna get my face all up in it.
S: There are tart sour notes of bitter cherry and merlot. there’s a funk to it, a bit of wet dog, but a sweet wet dog, in taste, not disposition. There is a nice lactic backbone to this but it has obviously mellowed quite a bit into a gentle juiciness with light oxidation on the nose. There is a bit of oxidation, but not straight up breakdancer levels. I can only imagine how fucking geriatric Depuration is at this point if this beer smells like this. Send me a bottle, be a homie.
T: Sweet introductory flavor with a strong wave of bitter tartness that is resonant of a sour patch kid, but refined with an aged pinot noir, the taste moves swift with incredible balance, the hops are so minor that they serve more as an escort to serperate the flavors than to impart authority, again the main perk is the incredible balance of sour with the underlying sweet. Above when I mentioned the hops, understand that to mean the straight up poltergeist of where the hops used to be. It is like their presence is the shattered shell of tame wild ale tempered in Hephaestus’s cool cauldron of time. This is incredibly gentle and subtle. It reminds me of muted elder vintages of Rodenbach that have funny stories to tell about the depression and when gas used to cost $1.45.
I popped this old ass vintage at Beer Revolution in Oakland and just straight posted up like a boss. I later opened Behemoth and BA Behemoth and people started taking pics of my trash. Fucking casuals.
M: The mouthfeel is just malty enough to carry the sediment and sweet dryness of the beer, any more and it would become a decadent fruit overload, any less and it would travel to a forgettable cider, the perfect balances makes this beer fantastic without overstaying its welcome. The taste imparts a swift jab of sour notes and then quickly resides, like a berry sniper. Compared to fresh Supplication, this is downright neighborly.
D: Some people may feel that the sweet notes are not high enough and the sour creates a poor man’s wine experience, I couldn’t disagree more. This is incredibly drinkable, not in the power hour sense, in a strictly delightful sense, the type that makes you wish for a couple bombers of, or a huge wallet to acquire these gems. This would find itself equally at home on a boat in the sun, or after a ski trip in the lodge. Incredibly drinkable. Then again, finding several bottles of this batch 1 gem would be a feat in itself. When this was sitting on shelves you were still perfecting your fingerbanging technique. At least Russian River got somewhere with their discipline.
Some vintage beverages are too dank for forget.
Narrative: The clicking roll and an L2 against an L3 vertebrae makes a percussive click clack with a certain panache that only Briscoe Wellingstone, berryspy extraordinaire can evoke. Some errant sour juice dribbles from the guard’s mouth, but Kiwis weren’t fit to guard a hostile embassy. He was hired as a young tart currant, trained in the most hostile vineyards, and was raised a pedigree in solitude for 15 months. Only this sour aging could create an agent of such brackish authority, such swiftly petulany candor, bitterly imparting a smooth sourness to the political fruit world. He rounds the foyer of the Tropicanaria, resolute to steal the famed cherry pit of Largesse. A hardened fruit son of a bitch, but with a slippery smoothe discountenance, lovable, yet stern in his demeanor. Mr. Wellingstone peppers the security cameras during an arching slide across the marble flooring. The pit was obtained, a sour finish left in the museum curator’s mouth.
I have received some messages speculating that I drank myself to death over the weekend. Rumors of my demise have been largely exaggerated. I went to SF over the weekend and forgot to set up reviews to auto post. I figured the beer porn would tithe some people over, but there is that dark cadre of beerdophiles who crave that narrative for succor. Succor is coming.
Thanks to Anthony for hooking me up with this Belgian beast. The regular old Rodenbach is a solid standby for the uninitiated. I love dropping that or some Duchess Du B. on a normal person not completely obsessed with beer, and then watching their worlds completely change like giving a pack of Parliaments to a 6th grader. This beer takes that old formula and puts me back in the n00b seat with a whole new delicious spin on those oaky/cherry/jolly rancher flavors that I seem to take for granted now. Let’s bust some cherries open in today’s review.
I need a beer that is red in the cheeks and a bruin in the sheets.
Brouwerij Rodenbach N.V.
Belgium
Flanders Red Ale | 7.00% ABV
A: this has nice gentle carbonation, and a one inch head that climbs and subsides gradually, dark red, dried blood with orange amber hues at the edges, head sits with hold like a rootbeer float and then immediately crackles away.
This beer destroys the inside of your mouth but it is so gosh darn gentle, you don’t really mind.
S: sour cherries, sweet nose, a bit of a funkiness, a bit of the cork with a woodiness, and finally a tannic raspberry aspect follows the cherry bride, holding the train.
T: the sour cherry is very pronounced, it is very light on the palate with a bittering grape skin flavor, flavor passes quickly with intense layers, tart pomegranate sweetness to it, the sweetness is like a cherry jolly rancher for a moment and the bitterness overtake quickly. You get a bit of acetone but not to the vinegar status levels, the whole affair is very fruit forward, much like that Fruit Picking Summer Camp your parents sent you to. But then you later found out it was just a Honduran guy’s house.
I will obtain more bottles of this………..eventually….
M: This is very thin and refreshing, easy to drink for any occasion, if not price prohibitive, an excellent session beer that doesnt over dry the palate despite all the tart notes, taste hits hard on the front end and leaves with little resides or coating in the mouth. The fruits help to calm down the acidic character and a light fruit roll up aspect is left lingering. It puts a body kit and cold air intake on regular old Rodenbach and pulls far more Philipino chicks as a result.
D: This is very drinkable, perhaps session is a bit strong but certainly 2 or 3 would be reasonable, if you enjoy the tartness and wild ale character, you could drink this all day given the abv and the lack of weight to the beer. The average consumer might not be on board with this style but I find it to be refreshing with bright notes. My wallet is definitely not on board with the death hammer price though. I think shipped from Belgium this beer ends up being, what $60 a bottle? Oh well, haters gonna hate.
This is a strange beer, worthy of cool reverence. Comforting but uncomfortable at the same time.
Narrative: They huddled in the cold dark holding cell, awaiting release “You number 34724?” A tense overseer inquires. He nodded with trepidation, awaiting the release, and at just that moment the cork gateway was opened, releasing him and his cherry bretheren, sour and full of misgivings upon the awaiting masses. “DONT GET CAUGHT ON THE FRONT LINE, WE ARENT HERE FOR SWEET” He had been told this many times, the initial sweet sentry tastebuds fell effortlessly under his tart scimitar. With an aerialists grace he imparted sweet blood on the front gates of the toungegrounds, charging directly to the back. This smash and grab had been rehearsed time and time again within the confines of his 6 month conditions, directly to the bitter, hit the sour and escape. With rote skill and a pike jump the bitter taste faction was seamlessly integrated, their sensory necks broken, neurons lithely hitting the ground as the tary cherry warrior continued his flay into the dark abyss. His job was done. The tart was communicated and his purpose was served.
Well what better beer to close out Imperial Stout week than none other than good old Parabola, the top 100 Wunderkind that makes trading for almost every other barrel aged stout completely pointless. Trust me, I love Rare and I am obsessed with Rare DOS and Bourbon Barrel Plead the 5th, but when it comes to taste, price point, and accessibility, this is the best Imperial Stout out there. I know, it comes in a gauche cardboard box that touts all its merits and accolades, but even hot girls sometimes listen to the Murder City Devils. Stop being so judgmental. Let’s open this box and bust open some vertexes in today’s review:
I have had this beer once on dr-
Another time I had this beer out of the bot-
Another time I enjoyed this in front of my toaste-
ALRIGHT ENOUGH I HAVE HAD PARABOLA SEVERAL TIMES. We get it.
Firestone Walker Brewing Co.
California, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 12.50% ABV
A: This is such a beautiful beer and, despite 5 straight days of describing imperial stouts, I think I can must up some original content for this one. This has a nice slick inky aspect to it but it is overridingly dark mahogany. It isn’t strictly a flat black like those lame primered out whips that Persian trustees love to embrace. This is a dark mocha that has ample but light lacing. There’s plenty of decadent cake but the cocoa fondant is not insubstantial.
I just wanna get me mouth on this and nurse it gently every single night.
S: The bouquet makes me want to go into my cellar and and open another right now. Just double fist them to overdose on amazingness. TWO TWO PARA BOLAS AT THE SAME DAMN TIME. You get a nice bourbon aspect but a completely inviting chocolate truffle aspect and a clean lingering candied fig dark fruit aspect. You don’t like going to stupid farmers markets? Well they sell chocolate at those at an outrageous markup. This is the farmer’s market without the children and without the markup.
T: This is exception and wraps you with one of those hugs after a long hard chocolate cry, binging bourbon and vanilla beans. He wasn’t the right one for you anyway, Parabola will always be there for you, Parabola will wipe away those tears and carve pumpkins with you when no one else will. It is the everyday stout that is as incredible as the best of the best, but gives killer licorice back massages.
Whenever people tell me that Parabola isn’t that good, my jimmies remain in adamantium unrustle.
M: This is thick but not overpowering like Abyss, it is not overly thin either. The malt profile stays in your room just long enough to lovingly watch you fall into a bourbon nap and then turns the night light off. What a sweet and gentle stout that sweetly tucks 12.5% abv alcohol directly into your brain. You aren’t walking around smelling negligent, it is more of a light finish with a huge robust initial coating. This is the imperial stout that has admirable torque, but incredible cornering: the Carrera of the barrel aged world.
D: This is exceptionally drinkable, especially all up in your Porsche doing sick burnouts, socking nerds, asking girls to show their hooters. Except, it is more refined, with great power comes an incredible chocolate poise. They don’t just toss bombers into special cardboard boxes for no reason except Barrel Aged Double Barrel. This is an amazing beer and can serve as a gateway drug for your friends to absolutely ruin their lives with heavier exploits later on. I wouldn’t have my friends live their lives any other way.
This beer is fulfilling and exciting as the same time. Straight up decadence on a roller coaster.
Narrative: I drank imperial barrel aged stouts non-stop. I cannot write a narrative today. hit the archives or enjoy one of the other 397 beer reviews from last year you ingrates.
Alright, barrel aged stout week continues with yet another top 100 imperial stout aged in NONE OTHER THAN PAPPY VAN WINKLE BARRELS. The catch here is that, like the disappointing BA People’s Porter, they spent a hot minute on the barrels. A hot 4 months, to be exact. By my BA standards, that is barely what you serve for repeat domestic violence charges. I want some straight up lifers when it comes to ba stouts. Anyway, people love this beer, I am not a huge fan, but who am I to deny you my erudite take on this revered libation? Let’s take a look at this blacksploitation ass bottle
I have been informed that the south is hot, intolerant, sticky, and humid. Pass the barrel aged stouts please.
Foothills Brewing Company
North Carolina, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 9.75% ABV
A: This follows in the same vein as my review of Great Lakes barrel aged Blackout Stout in that it is incredibly thin for an imperial stout. Think Czar Jack levels. I am not sure if this makes stoichometric sense, but, I feel like barrel aging this beer actually made it considerable thinner. The sheeting is minimal and the carbonation is reluctant as a C student in madrasa. The look is a nice pentel ink black with a slick shine to it like boot black.
You take pappy van winkle barrels and expect some epic shit, then you realize it has a tiny japanese school girl hanging off of it. That caption really ran into some problems.
S: This has a great nose to it, and is probably my favorite part of this beer. I enjoy the chocolate, sweet cocoa notes, you get some light oak, there’s a touch of macaroon and butterscotch to it, but again this is all set forth on the stage of immense chocolate. Again, I feel that even that aspect from the base beer has been ratcheted back, for obvious reasons. I am not sure that the tradeoff for the brief jaunt in a barrel was really worth it. Then again, this beer usually hovers around 1000 bottles, so obviously the clamoring masses know better than I.
T: There is a light sweetness of coffee and some fleeting notes of caramel bourbon, similar to 4 roses treatments. Again, the whole affair is very brief and imparts a very gentle introductory and impartially administered hand to the BA Stout crowd. If you are coming off the heels of BCBS or something like that, this is going to seem downright sessionable. There’s a light cola aspect to it, but the thin tepid nature just doesn’t deliver huge on either a chocolate cake or illiterate gold miner bourbon aspect either. It’s like when Super Mario Bros 2 came out and everyone was like “wait wat.”
With enough time in a bourbon barrel, amazing things can evolve and develop.
M: Just rehash all I said above and use your imagination for once. This beer is thin, crisp, lightly slick, and doesn’t hang around for very long. This is by no means a bad beer and I welcome variations in execution, but this just doesn’t suit my particular stout needs. Insert innuendo re: thick, black, sticky, what have you.
D: This is exceptionally drinkable. The 22oz bottle drinks like a 6% import stout and this beer soars in this category. However, the last release was what, 1200 bottles? So this isn’t exactly like Stone IRS where you can just chain combos together for maximum points. If you are into sweeter BA stouts like the Eclipse treatments and that sorta jazz, this will probably be up your alley, but for all the trouble associated with trading for it, the base beer is arguably superior.
This is just a gentle lil stout that wants some malty cuddling and a nice home. Does not bite, has all shots, is housebroken.
Narrative: The Baltimore police department had spent the greater part of their annual budget on this risky gambit, but they finally developed the ultimate weapon to counteract west Baltimore heroin sales. “ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE,” the monitor boomed from the center compartment of the R.A.V.E.N. 3400. “Very good Raven, now walk forward-” Carl Kensington commanded into the laboratory microphone. The 4 months of development had taken officer Jennings from a comatose beat officer into a highly sophisticated crime fighting instrument of martial law. “Engaging BRIAN BILLICK SEQUENCE-” the robot boomed and staggered forward, 3 steps forward, 4 steps back, on questionable terrain. Dr. Kensington chewed his glasses pensively in what could only be deemd the most cliche manner possible. “It seems the original AI has fused with officer Jennings personal concerns, WE HAVE MADE A MONSTER.” The mechanical abomination began on a rapid mechanize tirade stating, “Afterastellar2006season/improveuponthe13-3record…injuries…poorplay_plagued..2007seasonintheAFCNorth$$cellar…disappointing5-11record…humiliating22-16overtimeloss…previouslywinlessMiamiDolphins-” The scientists could not get this din to stop. They had taken the magic of officer Jennings and imparted a strange sophistication upon him that no one asked for. May God have mercy on the West Baltimore projects.
Ok so let’s list a few of my failed exploits with this rare draft=only, no growler stout. I once drove all the way down to SD after Winterstorm because a hostess told me that it was still on tap. I showed up and Dr. Bill remonstratively informed me that it had kicked. Never trust a hostess. Another time I drove all the way down to SD to pick up some 2010 bottles of this and they were horribly infected, It was like drinking chocolate Consecration. Another time I bought $45 tickets to Blue Palms anniversary and went alone on a 95 degree day, stood in line and was one of the first people to go in. I go in and BOOM the Stone rep told me that they unilaterally decided to “replace” Stone IRS with 15th anniversary on Espresso Beans. To the uninformed, that is like showing up to the Nissan dealership for your GT-R and they give you a 370z with a really nice spoiler. Enough complaining, I finally ticked this top 100 asshole, let’s get it:
It took me so long to finally land this, my liver stocked up so much that it would never crave it again. This tactic failed.
Stone Brewing Co.
California, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 11.50% ABV
A: This looks almost identical to normal IRS with the exception that it has a bit more clear sheeting and a bit less carbonation. What did you seriously expect, some bourbon ghost or magical bourbon sparkles to enhance your experience? There’s some nice mocha frothiness like trying to take a swim at Long Beach.
They don’t want you sipping rare BA stouts, ticking top 100 beers, they tryna catch you riding cleanly.
S: The smell is absolutely fantastic. It is reminiscent of a gentler Bourbon Barrel Plead the 5th, with more of a coconut vanilla thing going on, and less roast. You get a blast of dark chocolate, baker’s cocoa, some Nestle cocoa, marshmellow and some melted caramel. This spent 2 years in a barrel and it learned a thing or two during its hard time, like how to fashion a bourbon shiv out of oak and how to convert malts to Islam.
T: This is an incredible stout and takes all of the simply delicious chocolate and roast nuances of the original and adds this complex sweet profile that is entirely fulfilling. There’s an initial bourbon sweetness that almost comes across similar to a brandy treatment, but fades into this macaroon dipped in milk chocolate with a side of coffee, the tepid mouthfeel just lets the malts pop lock and drop it. This beer is official like a referee whistle. While I love the 08 and 09 vintages of IRS, this is an entirely different endeavor and straight up leap frogs over the likes of Parabola and Abyss for the simplicity and deliciousness of its execution. This isn’t the most complex stout in the world but it just maxes out the balance, like a skewed Aristotelian mean.
Barrel aged stouts kill more beer nerds each year than baby hippos. Think of the dying beer nerds.
M: This is a bit dry from the oak but provides a nice light chocolatey coating from the residual malts and sugars. This is exceptionally drinkable simply for the fact that it imparts a huge profile without being too filling or cloying on any specific element. Some beers are too thick (Abyss) others are too hot (Black Tooz) others still present strange aplomb that is off putting (Dark Lord); this avoids that terrain and just sneaks in past the bouncer with a bourbon 9mm tucked in its jeans.
D: See above, this is really drinkable and it is frustrating how unavailable this is. I wonder if Greg Koch ever calls Kyle from Kern River brew co and they just bust out kegs of Class X and BA IRS and share them and no one else gets none. Just an amazing stout sesh that no one else gets to drink. I will order this any time that I see it, I don’t care if I am at my own parole hearing, I mean, why is it on tap there in the first place? Seems kinda negligent of the warden.
I see you have Barrel Aged IRS. I like barrel aged things.
Narrative: Chris Martin kept an orderly office: pictures of his wife and two children on his desk, Kiwani’s plaques on the wall, an ironic Billy Bass as a talkign point for clients. If you were in the market for a used Trailblazer or Arcadia, he was your man. What most single mothers or recent divorcees buying used american cars were unaware of was Chris’s dark secret. Chris was completely intoxicated during every single transaction. He kept a series of vintage bourbons in his right hand drawer, awaiting his consumption. The chocolate candies and Werther’s Originals were on the rich mahogany desk to distract from his bloodshot eyes and the dizzying loan payment figures. Much as the finches of Darwinian exploits had adapted their beaks for efficiency, Chris’s liver had adapted to embrace the trappings of his ultimately depressing profession. No one wants to grow up to be a middle manager at a used car lot in Pensacola. No one ever tells that story. Chris penned his final deal of the month and staggered over to the bell and rang it. His co-workers clapped and nodded in cool reverence of his haughty swagger. No one had ever sold a Neon Expresso before. They said that car was unsalable. But then again they didn’t drink Buffalo Trace at 8:30 in the morning now did they?
dontdrinkbeer 