Category Archives: barrel aged

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Green Flash Double Stout, When a Single Stout Isn’t Enough, Double That Shit Down.

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Green Flash, ah, just the name feels like the deal of the century. They nestle shoulders with Lagunitas warmly and provide amazing beers are incredibly affordable prices. I love this brewery and they consistently roll out great gems for everyone to enjoy, not just elitist aleholes with boxes littering their homes. So let’s double down some stouts in today’s review.

This beer is stunning and this shit didn’t even go into a barrel. . .that one is coming soon. . .FORESHADOWING TO THE MAXIMUM.

Green Flash Double Stout
8.8% abv

A: This is a welcoming blackness with some deep brown hues. There is a fantastic huge carbonation and lingering forestry of lacing that webs over itself and sticks with aggression. The entire beer is incredibly well done and surprising, not in an elitist way, but come on for the price this beer delivers more than some of the overhyped brewery only releases. I am super serial.

I need MORE OF THIS STOUT. All the time.

S: This is incredible for a beer that is not barrel aged. It presents a huge drying coffee, burnt wood, and 85% cocoa chocolate profile. But with a smoothness like a Feist sustained note. Deep, dark, but entreating. There’s a dryness and a crispy brownie batter aspect to it.

T: The taste is very simple. It imparts a huge burnt dryness that tastes like the dregs of a great espresso that melts into a chocolate profile with that bitterness that is common to very dark chocolate and then a splash of water, and it is over. It is a chocolate splash mountain of flavor and Brier Rabbit barely has time to say anything, edgewise or otherwise.

With something this dark and powerful, shit gets dangerous real quickly.

M: This is swift with a medium coating but a solid coating for about 2 seconds and then it scurries off. It is almost like they want you to drink the entire 4 pack in a single sitting. WELL GREEN FLASH, I see your challenge and respectfully decline, I have other matters to attend to. The end taste of the coating has a sort of a burned black licorice that is interesting, but fleeting. This is a swift little stout but even the most capricious Clipper spies a Galeon on the horizon. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

D: This is incredibly drinkable if, and only if 1) you enjoy coffee, a lot or 2) you cannot wait for baked good to be done and you like baker’s chocolate, a lot. If you want a huge filling stout, this isn’t the one. This is a deep dark oaky coffee ninja that imparts and retreats. Toffee shurikens are likely involved.

Smootheness coupled with an integrated alcohol profile makes me not know what the hell is going on before I knew it.

Narrative: “Another one, this is a series, to be sure.” Detective Branning spit angrily upon the ground and clenched his jaw. “Another chocolate store robbed blind, in an instant, with the insides gutted and replaced with…shitty coffee.” “Yes sir, it just doesn’t add up.” his assistant, Detective Willoughby added. Willoughby’s glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he chewed on the end of his pen contemplatively. “You know, if someone wants chocolate that bad, why go through the trouble of replacing it with all this shitty coffee? Just don’t add up boss.” Branning nodded and looked into the bag’s of Seattle’s Best, then into a barrel of Yuban. “Someone is fucking with us, it’s a calling card, he’s letting us know that he can get away with it.” Branning ejaculated and flipped his notebook shut. Meanwhile, in the alley adjacent to the knocked off candy store, a lone Peruvian man garbed in all black shook his head morosely. “No detective Branning, this is far from a game, and it has only just begun,” he chortled as his diminutive 5’2” frame chortled with menacing laughter. “IN THE LAND OF SURPLUS CROPS, THE MAN WITH THE CHOCOLATE IS KING.” Branning took one long look at the crime scene and said, “well Willougby, whoever did this is either really sick, or was raised in a place that doesn’t understand relative product value, OR BOTH.” He kicked a lone coffee bean and watched it slide into a pool of melted chocolate.

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Lost Abbey Cable Car, Ring a Ding Ding, The San (Diego) Francisco Treat.

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What else can we way about this amazing sour that hasn’t been etched in the stalls of homosexual nightclubs already? This is an amazing beer. I have only had this beer three times and each time I nodded contemplatively at spending a pretty penny to try it, not even mad tho. This beer sweeps the leg and makes me want another, not unlike giving a mouse a cookie, he is going to want a vert.

This beer is only for sale at Torona- WAIT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?

Lost Abbey, Cable Car, 7.0% wild ale

Oh wait, let’s not forget about the Cable Car Kriek, not even fucking around on this review:

Take an amazing sour and then take it to the kriekzone. Feeling like a cherry popping daddy.

A: Light pilsner color, mellow gold, a refined golden ambiance. The kriek technically deserves its own review but I will just ad lib this shit, the kriek has a bright radiant hue like cherry afterbirth. Amazing beers on both aspects.

GOD DAMNIT I need moar of this beer. You must understand my frustration.

S: Strong sour geuze smell, crushed sweettarts and a melted fruitloops wafting. There is a mild funk of wet hay and a deep crisp granny smith apple note going on that is super cutty.

T: This beer is intimidating at first, strong smells and notes, but ultimately this is a calf that you can wrangle without oppression. It is akin to mutton busting, something that seems difficult until you tackle the sheep, and pull its majestic fur to the ground. At its core, it is temptation with milder souring, lighter drying effects, less tanins in the grape aftertaste, and finally champagne crisp apple notes in the finish. Nothing you can’t handle but an exceptional balance. It is the lovechild of gueuze and champagnes of the mild brut variety. I love the dryness even if it slows me from enjoying the white grape and fuji apple notes.

This beer is unique, yet respectable, strange, yet friendly.

M: Fantastic, crisp and light, the entire experience has lemon zest and feels like a Hootie and the Blowfish Album. You can dispense this pellmell and no one will look askance. If not for the oppressive Toronado’s standards, this could be something everyone could enjoy, if not for proprietary despotism. This is well worth bootlegging, well worth epic trades. Just really good, but if you want to tread this road, there are more refined paths as smoothe as marble for your wanting cart, should you not have epic cellar gems to take down this beast.

D: Again, fantastic but competing in a league of legends. I would drink this all day, fixing my carburetor, prepartying for the charity gala, snuff film exposition, you know, guy stuff. I find myself in a love hate resolution with this beer because I love what it is but I hate the air surrounding it. It feels like seeing a person with a TOOL shirt on. you love the syncopated rhythms and complex melodies, but you dislike the fanbase in general. The faux highbrow ruins what would be a fantastic experience.

I need more of this sour gem, I cannot stop thrusting.

Narrative: Sir Fredrick Willingsly is repossessing your car. You can’t hate him for doing his job, but, without a 1998 civic DX, these pizzas arent going to deliver themselves. You hate him, with his cliche antagonistic handlebar moustache and fogged up monocle. However, his wry quips relating to Howards’ End and class struggle made it all the sweeter. “And thence upon from which one has had, none shall take without” he declares with a cloud of aplomb that almost makes you lighthearted in his usurpation of your chief economic asset. He is akin to the Mr. peanut of recurring vengeance. your pocket despises him, yet you respect him for his casuistic enforcement of the law. “God speed Willingsly, dont scratch my sick mugen exhaust on the dip. Godspeed.”

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De Struise Aardmonnik – Earthmonk, For Those Times When Spacemonks are too Terrestrial

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Ah Struise, these crazy mixologists always roll out noteworthy gems and I always love getting these on my doorstep. Today we step away from their stouts and take a dive into their sourer side for some Belgian kisses in today’s review.

The Ansel Adams of beer photos up in the club popping bottles.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgium
Flanders Oud Bruin | 8.00% ABV

A: This beer is completely flat. I am talking like day 5 of bottle conditioning flat for the novice home brewer. I poured it with anger and, nothing. It looks like a murky quad with some deep amber tones against the light but overall just a deep cola color.

The perfect beer for baseball season. Have fun.

S: Holy hell, this lights up the nostrils with a bouquet of cherry, currant, red grape, and a huge vinegar profile. There’s a sort of delicious nail polish remover aspect going on here, but with figs. It’s like M.A.S.K. vehicles that look all janky until they transform into some bad ass robot and get sued by the Transformers lawyers, except, no one gets sued. WHICH IS ALSO BAD ASS.

T: This imparts a cherry juice sweetness at the outset and then, like bosses when you chip away that their HP, it turns into this deep brown ale base the finally fades into a bitter merlot. This is similar to Veritas 009 in that it is just completely confusing. At the bottom of it all there is a bitter cherry aspect stacked on top of a flat brown ale. This 11oz bottle was more than enough.

This beer is weird, dark, but I like it. Don’t ask me for a full analysis, it just works.

M: This has a flat, stinging, drying aspect to it. I don’t know if that was an intentional Brew Dog tactic to attempt to push the envelope but it didn’t resonate too well. Part of me doesn’t want to keep it swashing around my mouth to determine the coating. I will give this a moment to warm up to determine if it improves.

D: Ok so, it improves a bit with some heat on it but, the result is that it turns into a bottle of Rodenbach with a bit of age on it. Only more expensive. I don’t want to have to buy an Accord and wait around for it to turn into an RSX. That seems wasteful. I guess this is drinkable if you have the time to age it, or sit around and wish for better days. I like my beers good out of the bottle, not with all this molly coddling. To be clear, sours and wilds are my favorite style and this Oud Bruin should have been lazily draping its arm all up in my palate, cuddling within the ambit of my tastes. Sadly no, I can’t recommend this with more accessible and delicious things taking place all pell mell.

When you see it, you will realize this book was published in 1990.

Narrative: “Kenny, good to finally meet you, please, come in-” Mr. Jennings motioned entreatingly to a palatial foyer, a mere pre-foyer to another foyer, the transition from French to Portugese marble was an option that was specifically selected during construction way back in 2006. “Have a seat son.” Kenny’s palms began to sweat profusely and he wiped them upon his finest jeans, purchased from Nordstom Rack. The boot cut ¾ standard common to last year’s denim was not unnoticed by the constituents of the home. “They know, I can tell they are judging me.” he thought to himself scornfully. “Now Kenny, Miranda tells us that your parents own a fruit packing conglomerate, that sounds fascinating. Please, tell me about it” Mr. Jennings leaned forward importuning Kenny gracefully. “Well it’s uh, pretty interesting with the cans, and well you know the-” Kenny looked down, “they can tell that my parents own a modest preservatives operation. Why am I even bothering?” He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, “hey son, relax, I know you aren’t who you say you are, but, I respect that” “Sir, I” “son, the pectin on your shirt sleeve, the wax seal stain on your jeans, it’s obvious you are not who you say you are, but, I like the cut of your jib.”

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Lost Abbey Veritas 007, Secret Agent Wild Ale, Busting Tart Spy Missions All Up in your Face

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I feel like I have been wrestling with Lost Abbey lately and constantly looking in my rearview mirror, but one thing that I know is, aside from Duck Duck Gooze, this is probably my favorite sour that they have ever made and, spoiler alert, it is damn good. If landing this beer wasn’t such a kick in the taint, I would seek it out all the time. Let’s get this sourgasm going on today’s review.

Again, I forget if this is V009 or V007, you dont care, just close that Brazzers tab for a second and pay attention.

Veritas 007, Lost Abbey
American Wild Ale, 7% abv

A: This beer has a radiant glow to it and makes me suspect that Witches Wit or some golden was the base beer but, absent some searching on Alta Vista or AOL, the world may never know. Pathetic crackly carobnation and non-commital lacing make this beer ineligible for Jdate. Not sure where the tremblant red colors came from but, hey, belly up to the bar non-standard coloring, even a crazy off pink hue is welcome in these parts.

I can only assume that this beer will get more bad ass over time. If that is even possible.

S: This has that funky Jolly Pumpkin signature wet bandaids with sobbed upon cardboard smell to it. Sure there’s wheat and a tart finish but the trials of a broken breakdancer are the soul of the enterprise. Also, cherries and that aggressive raspberry that ruins everyone’s game and takes over shit rapaciously.

T: This has an incredibly expansive character with cherry and raspberry at the forefront. It mellow a bit, I was told but that is like saying that the kid with ADD is doing a little bit less shitty at math. This is still incredibly tart like a cider rampage but with more dryness. Somehow, skittles got invited to this bruja and decided that archetypical tart fruits would follow up the swallow. This is orgasm in a cup for a 6 year old palate. That, no I mean, it is what a 6 year old would really enjo-, shit nevermind, next category.

This beer is bizarre yet strangely refined.

M: This is super drying and light but refreshing. It would be more refreshing if I wasn’t so stressed out about drinking it at all. I can’t fault it for its existence. Sometime when I drink a rare beer, that comes through consciously and I am aware of it, denaturing the experience. I once drank ISO:FT and loved it, and then when someone told me what it was I bemoaned my fast gulps and distention to detail. This is a fantastic beer and the mouthfeel just served a self-destructive function. It was gone so quickly, said the Lotto winner, sobbing into a 4 seated jet ski.

D: See supra, this is beyond drinkable and, if I didn’t lack the temerity to seek this out, I would do so. Someone give me another bottle and I will write them a short story, just for a chance to indulge on this epic treat again. It is within the ambit of the best 10 sours that I have ever tried. It is like in Cold Mountain where Nicole Kidman falls in love with Jude Law after only giving him lemonade like once, WHAT? I didn’t even see that movie, I MEANT THE BEER WAS PRETTY LEGIT. That’s all.

Great in the morning, great as a nightcap, doesn’t matter, this beer is amazing, when Veritas is on a bagel you can drink V007 any time.

Narrative: The structure of Horatio Alger works and rom-coms had led poor Devin Terpin to believe that it was possible to transcend class structure immediately, if love and a 90 minute resolution was involved. “Repeat again Devin, ’And henceforth, the mandate shall remain tattered dicta’” instructed Ethyl Balmington, his social correctional instructor. “Hens for, this man-date is a tatted dick.” Devin stumbled out warily. Ms. Balmington shook her head reproachfully. “Devin, if you ever hope to attend this Laguna Nigel wedding, you need to work on your diction and content.” Devin sighed and kicked a patch of wild raspberries before him. “Wait, Devin, what is that?” he glanced down and the plant seemed to pulse at his distinctive Riverside dialect. “THIS STRAIN OF FLORA, it is highly combustible with your 909 prototype upbringing!” Ms. Balmington an experienced amateur florist snatched his Metal Mulisha bandana and ground some tart berries into a fine paste. “Now swallow this.” “OBVI!” Devin cried out and made his fraternal sign and downed the berries not unlike the sickest bro. These will take effect in approximately 90 minutes, and all of your romantic problems will be solved. “That sounds like the reprieve of some petulant candor, to say the least!” Devin retorted, astonished. His lifted Silverado changed into a Pumpkin Carriage, then it was on some sick twanky deuces, then it was a bagged pumpkin carriage, which, was pretty cutty irrespective of circumstance. A mere 90 minutes had passed and Devin joked with a pun based upon a portmanteau of Portugese and conversational Greek to one of the guests. “WELL I NEVER!” she cried out while polishing her monocle. “AND I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE!” the reverend shouted and credits began to roll, over the expanse of the life of the sickest bro. The berries were poisonous.

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Nail Brewing, Clout Stout, This Australian Brewery Just Nailed Me Harder than a Beta bro.

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Alright so from Cabo to Vermont to…Australia we travel today to sample this super .rar 300 bottle gem. Mad props to my Aussie homie Pat for hooking this up, keeping it cutty with backwards flowing toilets. Alright so you’re thinking “So what, a Bourbon Barrel Aged Stout, we have that shit here in (wherever assholes live.)” Well sure, but I thought that I knew what candy was until I tried some of those dope Bimbo jams coming from down south, so let’s see what is going on in that penal colony and determine if having the world’s best beaches has helped them step up their alegame.

Ehhh damn I think I just got a Clout, it’s pointing to the left-

Nail Brewing Australia Pty Ltd
Australia
Russian Imperial Stout | 10.60% ABV

A: First and foremost, can we talk about how fucking awesome that bottle is? I think I am nailed up just looking at it. Clearly the Aussies love to develop a bottle that will 1) cost a fuckton to ship to the US and 2) can be used as a bludgeoning weapon once you drill all 750ml of 10% stout inside. That’s how I roll with growlers so maybe they know me better than I know myself. The beer itself is slick with nice wateriness that doesn’t coat massively but leaves some nice mocha frap foam on the edges and the slightest sight of this beer will make you instantly unattractive to all chicks born later than 1991, oh well, haters gonna hate.

Sometimes you just know you are taking on more than you should at the outset, with awesome results.

S: This takes you to the candy shop and proceeds to demand that you lick the lollipop. It has a deep frothy Nestle Quik aspect of sweet diluted chocolate and Horchata sweetness that goes to a nice pumpernickle dryness to round shit out. I don’t see myself drinking this after hitting sick barrels or getting super pitted but hey, I have never been to Australia. If I went down there and merked this entire bottle to myself, I would probably be down to teabag a rattlesnake. Don’t threaten me with a good time.

T: If the smell took you to the candyshop, then this is like getting sucked up into the chocolate water tube like Augustus Gloop. It is watery but not in a bad way, like it knows that if it was thicker this would take you to Darklordville real quick, population: no one in Australia. I like the gentle chocolate, mochafoam mixed with light coffee dryness, real sweet raisinette aspect to the finish that sticks the landing. Again to beat this aboriginal horse, this is sweet sticky icky ooh wee, put it in the air. You ever use magic shell but are too much of an impatient fat ass to allow it to congeal into a shell? Well this is what you get, slick, thick, watery, and sweet at the same time, like that stripper from Houston whose false name you can’t remember.

It all started so fun, awesome bottle then, oh shit Austalians just beat my ass, by proxy.

M: This is slick and gentle, splishy splashy by our American standards but it is not any worse off as a result. I like the agile aspect to this big beer and it comes across like Nightcrawler, nimble, steady, but can teleport you into some fucked up situations. The bubbles have a crackliness to them that is satisfying but drying at the same time.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and, like most good things, it is gone incredibly quickly. This reminds me of what would happen if you amped up Czar jack or another thin bodied stout to the sweet/Imperial Milk Stout direction. Not saying you need to talk to your kids about this style but, it is never too early. Remember that, it is never to early to warn your children about the dangers of Imperial Russian Milk Stouts from Australia Aged in Bourbon Barrels. Now you know.

Sure, it looks sweet and fun, but just try explaining to animal control how you got your genitals mangled by an otter.

Narrative: The speculative interests of the East Connecticut Trading Empire knew no bounds. While technically no one “owned” the south pacific island, the Connecticut government sent a flotilla of its most able seamen to claim it for the CT empire. Their public school system was an embarassment, their national image was tattered after Ernest Borgnine hit the scene, and this was just the act of aggression that would put old CT back on the map. The settlers wished to plant a new export crop, coffee, which seemed to be the rage with all the intellectuals that that fled their state, so they hoped to regain social image by founding Hipstonia, a coffee plantation that would disband if that residents all agreed that it was getting too incorporated. However, they tapped into a deep herbaceous presence, g4 cacao plant hybrid mixed with kudzu that spread at an alarming rate. The conquerors were strangled alive in their polos with upturned collars. When the residents of New New Hampshire paddled over, all that they could discern of the remaining bodies were, ironically, articles of Banana Republic khakis.

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Pelican Brewery Mother of All Storms, Would You Kiss Your Mother With a Barleywine Mouth Like That?

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Here’s a beer that I have had, oh, let’s call it 6 times and the picture you see below is the most coherent image that I have of this beast. That should tell you something right away. First and foremost, I love this beer, I love this style and it seriously goes head to head with Kuhnhenn, Arctic Devil and…ugh…KING HERNY GRUMBLEGRUMBLE. Anyway, this amazing beer is a treat, so let’s peep it out on today’s review to SEE HOW WIDE THE WINGSPAN IS ON THIS..er..MARK WAHLBERG HAS A STORM COMING. Just read it.

Actually it doesn’t look as bad as I remember, maybe it was my raging headache after merking this beast. Big pours, we do them.

Mother of All Storms, Barleywine, 13.5 abv.
Oregon all up in the mix, Pelican Brewery

A: There is an almost bourbon note to it. A mild agitation evidences a some small bubbles but it is clear that this beer is above you, much in the way that Hemingway never seemed to mind the banalities of a normal life. You rock it back and forth and all you see is a wafty character that coats with a scary liquid refusal.

At first I was hesitant, but I ultimately found the ravaging brashness to be a warmth.

S: There are deep bourbon notes that resound like falling down a mineshaft and hit every peat note on the way down. I don’t want to overstate the wood and bourbon but, wow, this is beer but it feels like a proper gentleman’s drink. This was made in Oregon but its spirit takes its summer vacations in the hateful south. It enjoys conifers in the summer and spraying down protesting hops with fire hoses in the winter. Too far? Ok, let’s stop turning barley wines into social commentary. This has a great heat on it and I don’t even want to age it because I like it for it’s bumbly angry presence. It rounds out this delicious dinner party with a fuck up that you can point out that is incredibly enjoyable.

T: There is a huge panoply of raisins, figs, mild dates and nice waftiness just like envelops like sweet caramel candy. I enjoy this immensely and the retraction from the huge fruits on the finish makes it all the more enjoyable, wait for it-

The sip to shiteating grin ratio with this beer nears 1:1, also, Ginger child murders local dog, film at 11.

M: AS A RESULT THIS IS THE BEST BARLEYWINE THAT I HAVE EVER HAD. I know I know, this dethroned Abacus, no big deal, you hate Barleywines. Wait a second though, I like the following LESS: Hellshire, Old Dipsea 2009, Bigfoot, etc. This is hands down the most balanced and amazing barley wine I have ever had. I just want to sip on this and watch a Ryan Reynol- CLINT EASTWOOD MOVIE.

D: This is not exceptionally drinkable and, you know what? GOOD. This isn’t here for your consumption, this is like a Terrence Malick movie, it is deliberate, slow, deep and amazing. If you drink this alone you are a jerk. Plain and simple. This has such a great resounding spirit to it that begs to be split on a balcony and horrible philosophy discussions will ensure. It is just wafty, boozy, complex and amazing. The thin mouth almost makes me feel like “give me a cigar.” But then I realized that I don’t live in the gilded age, so put out the robusto Grover Cleveland.

Forget shaken baby syndrome, give your kids this beer, watch how amazing they turn out.

Narrative: All of the brackish land lovers said that this take was too ambitious. Sure, there was a school of marlin right off the coast heading for warmer currents, but, for gods sake, did you look at the meterology reports? They didn’t want to end up like the crew of the S.S. Stone Tea, rest in peace, who lost every member in this modern age refusing to deliver tea by protocol. No; no. There was a much more insidious secret that no crew member beyond the first mate could be made aware of. This marlin galleon was commanded by none other than a pelican. To be fair, he was a completely able captain with a curse placed upon him by a Portland witch who converted his form to the omnipresent visage of fertility, well knowing that he was impotent. That, my friends, is a story for another day. Sure there was a cool pressure from one direction and another front with conflicting warm pressures and, wait, who is manning the sextant? Oh that’s right, a pelican. Their cargo of 1200 barrels of bourbon and figs might never make it to port but one thing was certain, with this capta- BGLUB GLUB:::GURBLE::COPYRIGHTGURBLE

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Lost Abbey Veritas V009, Those Hot Crushes Start Out So Well, Then Turn Into a Sour Mess

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Here’s a great beer, er, a beer that was great when I had it last July, but recently people have been going apeshit about how it has fallen off. Oh boo hoo, that size 0 rare girl you met in a club isn’t working out 10 months later? Well guess what, take your $35 and fuck right off because I am reviewing this old school, yeah, waving the Lost Abbey flag and letting people know that if you want a legit experience, drink it fresh. Lesson learned. Thank you Tomme Arthur. Anyway, let’s review this size zero beauty.

Maybe this was the bottle for v007, who knows, don’t act like you give a shit.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Murky muddy brown ale with a mucky thick edging that I initially misunderstood as malt until I understood that it was deep currant sediment and grape skins and then shut myself right the fuck up.

So everyone was expecting Yellow Bus meets V007, what is this? haters gonna something something.

S: Wow, where to begin, this has a huge bourbon character, then the figs and currant set in, jumping into the game is an apple/citrus apples aspect before the wood notes close it out. Ultimately it feels like a Thomas Pynchon Novel: the most complicated beer ever made that ultimately leaves you confused and wanting more.

T: It seriously is the most complicated beer ever made. Ok so at the outset you taste a deep caramel with some cherry that subsides into a deep heat that lingers into a sour cranberry. I have no idea how that they pulled this off but it is amazing.

This is tough to explain, it is robustly complex but after only 8 ounce of this, the diversity becomes redundant, like a college admissions pamphlet.

M: Here is how your life will proceed, in succession: deep chocolate cherries oh wait, who is that? Vinegar, wait that’s cool come on in, who else? balsamic fine but don’t be a-? Ok cool, she’s cool too, blackberries welcome, welcome uh sure, oh more dark fruits? Fine, I will just set out more placemats.

D: Well, drink ability reduces down to the operator, but I don’t want to call out the old chestnut that can drink a lot, or drink a few. What I am looking for would be the type of person who would literally drink an entire 32 oz serving of POM or grapefruit juice. He would pass my test. Put simply, this beer is so limited and so complex that if you were to take on an entire 24oz to your dome piece, you are an asshole.

Sure, in retrospect, this might not have been the best idea, but it was bad ass at the time.

Narrative: “Oh I am sorry Guillermo? Do you think something is funny about the plastic bag regulation?” He was berated by his superiors but deep down, Guillermo had an innate sense of humor. He grasped desperately at his job at the Marina Del Rey Sheritan but notwithstanding he had a latent skill that his superiors could not stand. “OH IM SORRY GUILLERMO? SOMEHOW THE KOI POND OVER FLOWING IS FUNNY TO YOU?” His face was beet crimson with this prospect. Guillermo took a sly pull of 23 year pappy van winkel and cooled out for a moment. “Wait, maybe you are operating on cultural stereotypes, maybe you are racist?” The group nodded in accordance and each in turn attempted to determine who was in fact racist. Guillermo secretly was a completely literate and inventive individual who simply enjoyed the fulfilling work of maintaining the grounds of a three star resort. “WELL I CAN’T..ehh…no…nooo…” his accent kicked back in and he looked off into the distance longingly. He was perhaps the most complex grounds keeper that the Sheritan had ever encountered.

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Central Waters Fourteen Fourteen 1414 $14.14 Four teens for teams.

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Well, what else can I say about Central Waters? They make amazing stouts and an even more amazing Bourbon Barrel Barleywine, but wait, what happens when they make something even MORE SPECIALER? They took baller ass Winter Solstice and then aged it in (rumored) Buffalo Trace barrels, spoiler alert, this stout is amazing.

A lil 14 on 14 action, NSFW.

Central Waters Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 11.00% ABV

A: This has a nice mild cola splashiness to it that is totally at home in Central Waters’s lineup of other thin stouts. The lacing and carbonation are pretty mild and take a hands off approach to molesting your palate. You remember a week ago when I reviewed winter solstice from Central Waters? Well this shit is like when Bane turns the pump on and gets super jacked immediately. It is deeper, darker, but still slick and light at the same time. Park your boat at a PAIRADOCKS.

Cuddle up for some chocolatey bourbon snugs.

S: This straight up smells like a glass of decadent Nestle Quik with bourbon poured into it. There’s elements of that vanilla and oak that bourbon imparts but comes across as sweetness. There’s a mild coffee but it’s less espresso and more like a watery Yuban aspect, that sounds like a diss but it somehow works.

T: The taste has a nice initial sweetness like a hershey kiss but it takes you to Kentucky real quick. Shit turns into Bourbon central and uncle Jasper wants some sloppytime kisses. I get a s’mores aspect to this sans graham cracker, mod, plus nice heat. However, the heat from the bourbon integrates nicely into the home depot tire aisle earthiness, again, sounds like a diss but just try it, it is bomb.edu.

Seems legit.

M: Hot on the tails of imperial porters, this almost feels like one of THOSE, but the slickness doesn’t really throw me. I have tamed the BB Stout, gotten Peruvian Morning wood, and handled Winter Solstice, and all in all, the wateriness is a part of the magic that Central Waters imparts with a chocolate waterpark hug. I feel like Augustus Gloomp stuck in that chocolate water tube, loving every second of it.

D: The faults from the foregoing become epic wins here, as is often the case. You want to fuck around with some 11% puddle fight? Here you go, but be warned, shit will get real pretty quickly. I don’t know how drinkable a 1000 bottle release can really be but, gotta tip my hat to old SEE DUBs, they know how to push the Wisconsin game even further. I would love to put Wisconsin, Oregon, Colorado, and Michigan in a cagematch, winner fights Vermont.

Hide your stouts, hide your porters, this beer is awesome.

Narrative: “Well maybe if YOU ACTUALLY CARED, you would try to UNDERSTAND ME!” Crystaline Grimnoir (Born Christie Steinbaum) was a troubled 14 year old adolescent. She slammed the door and trudged out to face the 45th gloomy day in a row, to her infinite relief. First, her parents moved her from bustling Milwaukee to Amherst, to languidly waste away amongst tragically boring schoolmates. Next, she had to suffer through music class when all she longed to do was go home and create post-modern beats on a Casio keyboard on the harpsichord setting. She walked up to her clan of fellow miscreants, “You guys listen to the new Godspeed! You Black Emperor album? Fucking sucks, anyone want a pull of that Buffalo Trace?” she gripped the strangely expensive bourbon and looked out on the quad. “So uh, Crys, are we gonna go to formal like, you know, ironically, to see it, not because I want to be there-” her compatriot stammered. Crys took a large bite of a Toblerone and grinned menacingly “yes, we have dark business to attend to.” Her thin frame cackled with an awkward laughter.