Russian River Depuration, Let’s Set This Depomation Record Straight for the Haterzzzz

July 17, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright so if you were around way back in the 2011’s there was once a shithead with no foresight or foreskin who kept pumping a shitty brett forward homebrew clone of Depuration. That beer is now deep in the annals of history as Depomation, a perfect product of hype whose 42 bottle yield and Jefferz5000 label only the most legit/now deleted accounts got to savor. With LurchingBeast and Spdkilz and DJbutters having drank the last bottles we can finally move on and stop talking about that Shasta offbeat/beatoff clone. Let’s review Depuration, sip Pediobear and rub pellicles on some mantits.

Before you pay your shitty $500 mortage on your 5 bedroom Indiana home, that pour doesn’t mean I am one of you.

Russian River Brewing Company visit their website
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This has minimal levels of carb and sits murky and not giving a fuck like a girl with headgear on at prom that gets no love. In a word this is straight Doesjelling, if you know what I mean. There is a tepid aspect that swirls with some lackluster zero-fucks-given wispiness and a deep orange at the center. Here is where you talk shit about the size of my pour again, and then oh wait I skulled the vast majority of this bitch:

Before you ask: yes I later blended it with Coors Light.

S: The nose on this is fantastic and taking it head to head with a 2012 Temptation shows that what this beer lost in lovable acidity, it gained in muskiness and depth. There is an oakiness, sweetness akin to martinelli’s cider that I can only assume was the remainder of the grapes, a deep leather and hay combined with dry yard trimmings and a lemony acidity closes it out. As far as AWA’s go, this holsters the juvenile acid overload and proceeds to neck kiss up on 41 year old substitute teachers. “Mr. Vinnie doesn let us-” “Well I am not Mr. Vinnie.”

Bros be showing up at a Depuration tasting with Mexican Cake variants, the lulz not insubstantial straight cascading through my palatial estate.

T: This does not taste as amazing as the nose would suggest but despite it being faded harder than Jordache jeans, it still delivers like a Body Glove t-shirt. The taste is almost creamy in its smootheness, there is a light tingle of acidity like pop rocks and a lemon zest that is coupled with some sort of darker fruits which was really surprising something in the realm of bruised peaches and plum. I be balling in the D league, speaking Swaghili. You could crush one of these far faster than Temptation, and honestly this is a completely different beer in every aspect. While Temptation is brighter and simpler like the girl next door, this shit takes you back to the days of hands soaked with yearbook ink and musky cardboard, back when boners counted more, back when you wanted to beat off immediately after a movie date. Less restrained and far more complicated times.

This is a sour predator but it gives you a deep acidic hug and you look deep into those golden eyes- whoa is this an erotic fiction blog now? nice.

M: This has an incredible creaminess to it that coats and crackles like a strange pudding that has pop rocks and lemon juice in it. It is what I would imagine it would be like to go down on Jubilee or Dazzler. It’s not about the tastes here, it is the nose and mouth, straight ENT on these bitches. Temptation dries more, this provides a milky crackle to it like carbonated horchata, I GUESS.

D: This is wildly drinkable and did put that acidity up in me like paid experimentation. The only caveat is that since this beer is a one off/retired/essentially extinct is that telling people to seek this out is little more than veiled taunting. The best part of this is I didn’t have to drink this with 14 other dudes in a Joliet backyard with a bunch of 30%+ BMI dudes all photographing their molar units. I love it when a plan comes together. Oh yeah, and in case I didn’t address this fully, Depomation is wildly worse than this beer and essentially tasted like a brett C overload contrasted to this lactic/pedio masterpiece. Since there are exactly 19 running jokes in the beer community, keep those tired ass jams coming like playing Cupid Shuffle at a wedding.

Daddy went to jail on a come up at his Radioshack job tryna lock down some ticks. Cellar shit is a sour life.

Narrative: It was a strange existence, being a single guy in a big city. I guess being the webmaster and server technician for Match.com just added to the burn. He knew his own shortcoming, Kyle Rancors wasn’t the most outspoken person, or the most witty, but he had the ability to defrag your kernel faster than most in that bustling metropolis. That wasn’t an entendre, his skills were really that misaligned. Sure, he could carry average banter, had a working knowledge of Gray’s Anatomy that made him seem cloyingly sweet, just no one that a girl wanted to have a raucous session with. Performing maintenance on servers that helped others find love just seemed like an ironic twist of lemon into his heart. He was a good guy deep down, and somewhere, a mediocre enzyme would fit with his substrate complex to create the perfect lock and key. Those are the kinds of things that Kyle Rancors would actually think. There was a certain creaminess to his interaction that didn’t leave you feeling greased up, but rather lubricated for a lifetime of fulfillment. Plus he could slang mad Pokes on Fbook with no DNS entry.

@santeadairius Bernice

July 10, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

So I guess this is one of those “regular” SARA offerings, that is kinda like saying “oh that is one of those Kuhnhenn REGULAR RELEASES, you know 52 bottles in the middle of Arctic Tundra.” That sorta thing. I don’t know if this is the base beer for West Ashley but either way, Thank you Based God. I have my suspicions and until one of the portmanteau components of that Sante Adairius chimes in, old DDB will have to grind it out like a 7th grade dance. I put on Tony Rich Project and shit got sexy real quick with that octogenarian Bernice. I spelled that shit without spell check, this is gonna be a legit review.

Cupertino muggy and mean muggin on that radiant sesh.

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales
California, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.50% ABV

I was told that I am drinking batch 2. Like you give a fuck.

A: In journalism an auto-correct error is called a “Cupertino.” This is because when the software was first developed there were several instances of changing the word “cooperation” without the hyphen, to “Cupertino.” Why should you give a fuck? This beer is the Cupertino error of subbing in straight saison for what should be “American Wild Ale.” Just look at this glowy ass ho straight emitting free radicals and lasers from its core engaging in cold fusion without remorse. This looks really similar to West Ashley and again, the investigation continues.

Yeah, Twista was sippin Sante Adairius in the Source and tickers offering Abyss. Do they even Outlaw?

S: This doesn’t have the ripe apricot or complexity of the tannins but plays more of the river cards in embracing the lightly lactic nectarine acidity that is coupled with a faint gorgonzola aspect to it at higher temps. At cold cold cold temps in them 45 degree range I was kinda crestfallen, this was seriously like Pineapple Fanta or what old ass people would call THE OLD EGG PHOSPHATE maneuver. Let this open up to them mid 50’s like your favorite librarian and then work it hard, without remorse for its cats or estranged children. The light acidity takes a backseat to this Siren call of bubble bath refreshment. This is Bath and Body works nose fucking you and the 18 year old cashier is wanting. Legit.

T: This beer enters with a gentle ester that really needs higher temps to showcase and complexity in the residual sugar vs. enzymes battlefield. That is not its strongest suit. The Brett C profile is present but again, this is not the Chad Crooked Stave water on bugs refreshment either. This executes like somewhat of a hybrid between Crooked Stave Vielle and Seizoen bretta in that it is incredibly light, drops some lemon, tangelo, nectarine, and some clementine but isn’t acidic enough to warrant some comparison to say Beatification or that realm. The whole experience is like being tucked into some lemony 500ct sheets. Most of you still sleep with an unfolded sleeping bag or a FUBU sheet set from Walmart so I can’t explain it that well to you degenerates but, splurge and buy some dryer sheets next month when you wash your mountain of black screen print shirts. It is like that.

I got two boxes full of Sante Adairius shit this week, the Fedex truck be all like-

M: This is incredibly light, to the point of being insubstantial almost. The acidity adds some dryness that remedies things to add a lingering that is kinda like a power chord versus the fully fleshed out 3 additional notes of a major chord, but something feels too simplistic and transparent in the splishy finish. The West Ashley had an apricot walker to lean upon to add strata to the silt but this is a simple affair like a Misfits album that is satisfying for exactly what is immediately presented. There are no lactic/brett C/barrel solos that run on for bars and bars, you get a punch of lemon, water, light musk, and it is over. You want another sip immediately because that tart smooch with the latter day saint of the saison world just teases you hard.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you feel bad about the rate in which you can slay a 750ml. Your mother in law will look at you like a UPS driver, straight alcoholic, when you drill this shit like a dental assistant. You will be able to put this down triple double no assist. This is like when you drive a Honda until the 99999 odometer turns to 000000. I love how drinkable this is but it almost pisses me off how fast this disappeared, but that is largely the fault of my heaving back tits, deep bellybutton and insatiable liver. I wreck bottles and lives.

Florida traders suddenly lost their wind to this Farmhouse upstart. Watch them offer up some MZ shit and reap the lulz.

Narrative: Berenice ran her fingers through the fine Byzantine textiles and looked at the Gregorian calendar wondering what the nature of the Roman Silver age could hold. Her golden locks were held simply but there was a certain piquant complexity to here demeanor. No woman seeks to be a thrice divorced woman during the Flavian dynasty, but such was her Lot. No pun intended. The cool acidity of her treatment and interaction of the servants showed a poise that predated the Justinian morality laws. Any servant could approach her and take in her refreshing nature, the cool perspiration of Judea bathing salts and desert air made her a breathtaking site to all who sought her company. The only harshness that she ever exhibited was a harsh hand exhibited during the Jewish rebellion, but even in trying times the afflicted sought her clemency. Later her empire would be replaced with apricot groves and a new empire would replace her gentle feudalism. No seed germinates everlasting in the chosen land, not even Berenice.

@hillfarmstead Madness and Civilization I: The Unbecoming More Than Without

July 8, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I wanted to use an abstract gerund phrase to take the piss out of recent brewery titles but Jean and the TH boys beat me to it with a lengthy Vonnegut reference, so we all get to collectively rub those philosophy degrees for kindling. Except I can’t brew for shit. Anyway, I Tarrantino’ed the fuck out of these reviews and dropped a fat #2 of madness on your before I closed with a long hard #1 of Madness. This has been colloquially deemed the more “accessible” of the two offerings. But that is like a Dupont Registry buyer saying that a Gallardo is an “entry level offering.” Take your KBS bullshit elsewhere, the men are talking. Anyway, let’s take this supercar of stouts around the ring a bit, is this the malty r8 everyone is hoping for or just some bullshit Tesla hype? We shall see.

Look, oh wow, I didnt share it, that means I know some shit, right, oh wait I am still a prediabetic bitch.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial Stout | 9.00% ABV
It is a BLEND of very complex components – 2 year old Buckwheat Rye aged in Elijah Craig 18 barrels, 15 month Maple Wheat Imperial Stout, and a blend of Vanilla and Cacao Nib Bourbon Barrel aged Everett.

A: Alright drink all of the above in an just imagine the world that you live in being sucked sideways by a wanting George T. Stagg fleshlight. This is far more lively than the second offering, but for reasons that will be outlined shortly. This is the Island of the Blue Dolphins of the HF stouts accessibility and it looks beautiful with a splashy wake like some bourbon otters are cracking some cask oak on their chests. The carb is there, the alcohol doesn’t drill your anoos, everything was well.

Sometimes I get emails about some stupid BJCP or Naked Pint shit and I be like-

S: This is where things start going from standard to “oh fuck, this Fedex box was worth it.” I love two things that I have read in other reviews: 1) this is amazing at 45 degrees and 2) I can certainly pick out XXXX barrel. For the former, you dun goofed. The olfactory consequences will never be the same. Let this warm up and it is like a derelict candy dealer dropping cacao and sticky hersheys in your nose holes. This is more scent than MC2, and delivers a more complex smell bouquet than its elusive brother. You get some red wine tannins at higher temps in the same vein as Parabola but this has the sustain of oak and baker’s chocolate that rings deep and pure. The nose just fucks you sideways and you tip up for it.

T: The taste does not deliver in the intensity that MC2 provides. This has a sweetness and almost a Grape Fanta finish to it that is still GOOD, but after my butthole was stretched to Rubix cube levels by MC2, it is hard not to long for that gentle chocolatey fist. Regardless, this has a more nuanced gentle profile with red wine tannins, the sweetness of the bourbon, a vanilla profile that seems to watch over this shit like a Mormon dance, not letting anything become too ridiculous. At the closer you get a kind of chocolate pancake aspect that is sweet but the red wine just interlopes hard like an Orange County mother you wish would move its fake tits on out of here.

MC1 puts you on that sweet sticky drinkable game that you love to love.

M: The mouthfeel is lighter than MC2 for a billion reasons, but it has its own charms. You can apprehend the nuances and variety of notes taking place here, whereas the MC2 is a full on assault that takes a fuckload of concentration to address, this is a delcious Event Horizon sort of stout that lets you meander at your leisure, never unfulfilled. It is sweeter but doesn’t overwhelm in a way that most bullshit tickers wont notice anyway as they are lining up 45 bottles on the mantle of their garbage track home.

D: This is easily more drinkable than MC2 but the format also almost seems to lend itself to this fact. If you have ever been to a diner at 3am and had the “chicken noodle soup” and had the reduced blast that is the stiffarm of concentrated madness, you will know the true nature of this beer. To be honest, most people will like this version more. The bitch ass tickers who focus on rarity will claim to like MC2 more and continue to rate Darkness down for being “too hot” but at the end of the day, these are two different beers both kissing the neck of two totally different neckbeards. MC2 is for the hardened veteran ready for the 2009 Beer Cynic, the MC1 is there to glad hand the normal “Huna for BWXIV” kids. I don’t know what DDB has degenerated to, but this shit was delicious.

some tickers complain that DDB has lost touch with the regular beer world, like this shit ever resided there.

Narrative: “Hello? Is this recordin-pshh- hello?” Taylor Carmen tapped the monitor pleadingly. He never meant for this to happen. Just three weeks ago he was your average Orange County youth, slammed Silverado, flat brimmed hat, Crazy Town not an uncommon artist within the ambit of his auditory selection. He was a master of NU METAL and presented a deep and profound manner that every woman with pink highlights would embrace. But now here he was, an ad hoc astronaut. To be fair, the prank war was getting a bit out of hand. “Please, if anyone sees my step mom, tell her, I am so sorry for mistreating her-” Taylor started it by down tuning his friends bass to E flat. Then the classic bucket in the doorway, things escalated, and they tricked poor Taylor into boarding the launch of a new Verizon satellite. “And if you see Aiden, tell him he is a total dick. . .I am running out of air. . .but he should know. . .those texts never came from a. . .chick-” He layed against the GPS monitor and gasps the sickest final breaths of a bro cut down before the pinnacle of his sickness. Later they would recover these remains from Mars and realize his genius, a prank that was common to all but inacessible and perfectly executed for its purity and sweet nature. Poor Taylor Carmen.

@santeadairius West Ashley, This Beers Gets More Tickers off Than Cochran

July 5, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright so changing gears from a Vermont 300 bottle release, let’s peep game on this 300 bottle pre-wale from the west coast Hill Farmstead. Sante Adairius is a hot new brewery running the trap, slanging farmhouse ales, and dropping low bottle count beatdowns on the trade boards. Also, their product is 99.3% pure, that all blue Jesse Pinkman blend. So in today’s review we have a rare+saison+apricot+wildale+unzip pounding things out without remorse. Bay area kids were hella stoked on this and clutch them for good reason, this beer sets my apricots ablaze with careless abandon.

No filter. Srs. Just look at the inside of Marcellus Wallace’s briefcase.

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.30% ABV

A: This is that goon shit, mess up your whole afternoon shit. Just take a look at that burning fireball above, it is like looking directly into Beatrice while in paradiso. That isn’t a play on words because Beatrice may or may not be the base beer for this, it is just that radiant and melts your impure soul to take in those bright orange/tangerine/pure sunlight. The wispy carbonation crackles away like a piccolo pete and leaves no real lacing to speak of, but who is really speaking of lacing anyway? If you said grade A microcock beer nerds, you are correct.

If you are ever feeling down, lil Westy Ash will come through and puck you hard, but gently.

S: This reminds me of Logsdon Oak Aged Bretta scissoring Beatification’s thighs raw with a musky funk, tart apricot meets Fou Foune’s effeminate brother. The acidity doesn’t get in the way and you get this watery dog groomer’s air about it that the fruit supports nodding in the background on a 2/4 beat. There isn’t a ton of cheesiness or elements in the way of Cantillon/De Cam/Boon, nor is the acidity as harsh, but this is its own jam. Selfmade millionaire wild ale poppin that .45 acidity at haterzzz.

T: This is the absolute perfect beer for summertime. Take that floral/tart aspect from Ithaca Brute and add some apricot tannins and you have a massively drinkable beer that doubles as titty elixir for Yacht parties since this beer is balling outrageous. The tartness doesn’t go overboard and instead serves to compliment the hay/leather dryness, it wilds the fuck out like Bobby Bouchet. The fruit again is just mindblowing and links arms in the same realm as Fantasia (batch 1, not that brett bomb b2) Peche n Brett, Persica, and to a lesser extent, Fou Foune.

This new banger straight drops the mic on the AWA game.

M: This is drying at the outset with the apricot leading first but it has this murky waterines to it that washes so clean it leaves a sweet apricot life saver flavor that lingers and not unlike a Brazzer’s actor, you gotta get your mouth on it once more. I could crush these without remorse, the apricot jury would deem me an unsympathetic Ashley mass murderer. I love the careful tartness because it allows the underlying saison elements (which are fantastic) to show off in a manner more approachable and ultimately satisfying than say, Upland Peach, which is the acidity show in execution.

D: To double down on everything else that I have mentioned, this is scary drinkable and the ABV is not only present but this beer straight up feels GOOD for you. Like you conscience wouldn’t kick in drinking this before a funeral or a classy bris. The jamba juiciness keeps things lively but the oaky dryness lets you know the refined MILF will also enjoy this as well, inbetween her sips of Yellow Tail Moscato. Get this, actually dont, I need more, so don’t seek this out. Don’t ruin this shit for the rest of me.

This beer is original, vibrant, and fucking mind blowing

Narrative: Life at the Behr paint supply store was a mile a minute. Sure there was the time that they accidentally mixed turpentine with the eggshell, making the ignominious muted halogen color, completely off style but mindblowing nonetheless. Yes sir, Ashley West had seen it all in her duties as overseer of the interior vibrant tones division of Behr paints. It was her sworn duty to ensure that no paint scheme stood as too far fetched or offputting. Nothing escaped her trained penchant for searingly bright colors. If she saw a mild yellow that struck hier as too explosive, she’d be the first one to take it down a couple notches to a sublimely genial canary tone. For Ashley, life was all about the Golden Mean, in the Arisotelian sense, the paradigm of good taste. “Miss, do these sandstone swatches look appro-” “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Look at this, I’m sorry, where are we the Luxor casino? You need to mute these down to C11H14 palate, we don’t run some kind of funhouse, you can take these monstrocities down to Tempera paints Mr. Jackson Pollack if you feel like expressing yourself on my KHAKI WATCH!” Another solid day of work for Ashley West.

@hillfarmstead Madness and Civilization Part II: HURRY UP WITH MY DAMN CROISSANTS

July 3, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Well what we have here has all the makings of a good old fashioned brewery shitstorm on the boards:
1) 300 bottle release
2) 1 per person
3) World class brewery
4) High ass ratings
5) Likely one off

The smattering of beer boners could be heard ticking against the Anchor Blue jeans around the nation once this beer was dropped. This shit hits harder than a Tiesto drop and gets up in your spine like a fat sack of MDMA. It is like BA stout concentrate taken to Kuhnhenn levels, but managed with a Vermont throttle control. This is easily the biggest/most over the top beer that Shaun and the boys have put together and, lezbiahonest, this shit is some Kefka level boss mode shit with 3 stages.

THIS ISN’T EVEN ITS FINAL FORM.

300 bottle release and Chomsky be peepin and creepin

I guess the irrelevant text is kinda relevant, moderate structuralism link
Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV 15%+

Notes:
From a single bourbon barrel having held a unique blend of 6 different threads for more than 16 months.

A: This is deeper than Damon, drops more viscous sheets than the Wonka Factory, puts up clear coats harder than Heisenberg and leaves a deep khaki foam like that Suicide Girl/Barista you clear your internet history on the reg. This is bold and the spotty lacing tries its damndest like Persephone to claw up out of the blackness.

This beer is strong, but profound at the same time.

S: This reminds me of a Hill Farmstead spin on the BCBS model, putting 7’8th time math rock breaks pushing beyond the simple bourbon to chocolatey sticky caramello goodness. If you have ever had a Whatchamacallit, then take that and dip it in George T. Stagg and cut it with some Nestle Quikk. It is mindblowing and seriously, dont even fuck with this beer below 60 degrees, you are selling your weak acorn penis short. There is a certain aspect of BCBS that seems to lack balance and this beer provides a certain roasty rub and tug that is a full release in the stout world. Ropes of chocolate all over the bourbon hotel walls.

T: The initial foot rubbing up your calf is this sticky sweet Hershey bar, the alcohol is present but adds more of a complexity to the roast than sticking out like something found in Pugachev’s Cobra, etc. The baby palates would still have a hard time knocking this one because the finish is this mallow/Zero Bar/xmas neighbor fudge that just lingers like that asian chick from Match.com you accidentally met. There’s a prominent vanilla aspect that lies underneath the surface of this sticky Vermont bayou but it isnt like the Coldstone Creamery Bukaki fest that is BCBS Vanilla, it has more respect for your mouth hole.

M: If it isn’t already evident, this is a sticky residual sugar banger that would be akin to BA Huna in finish if the drying roast wasn’t there to act as hall monitor. I don’t want to convey this beer as some beetus bomb, but it isn’t as roasty as the Kuhnhenn BA Black Hole rimmers, it is somewhere in between and just flexes those malt lats getting all the babies attenuation.

D: At colder temps, I was kinda shoulder shruggy as to how much of this beast I could wrangle, but once it warmed up the complexity of the flavor is gentler and wraps that bourbon profile around you like a blanket fresh from the dryer. It is a shame that most of the sand dollar nippled traders will have all of 2 ounce of this in some bullshit line of a humid backyard, because it is really an experience to open you up like a gifted urologist. A decadent cocoa smelling doctor with a certain southern vanilla panache and a mahogany scarf.

Meanwhile, in a Michigan garage, some dude is filming a 9 minute video review about SN Narwhal.

Narrative: In the occult brewing schools of the 1950’s there was a wild malt-based rebellion against the established post-pilsner culture of the Greatest Generation. The paradigm shift was a result of restructuring opinions about the nature of barrel aging versus the hegemony of cask influence. Ultimately a few schools elected to meet in secret to lay the foundations of stout meaning, in two terms: analytic stout creation and synthetic stout creation. To truly address the myopic problems with the pilsner paradigm a fuller understanding of the nature of stout reactionism (namely bottom fermentation subsistence in a culture of Hellenistic top fermenting dominance) was required. Ultimately the science of stouts progressed. These secret stout creation groups became empirical in nature and their feeble reliance upon pseudo-historical analysis was deconstructed from the roots. In one such meeting, Master Brewer Breucault touched the tits of analytic brewer, Wale Durant’s wife, Ariale. Since this epoch most breweries have progressed to a dialectical tradition of adding shitty adjuncts to everything in a bacchanalian overthrow of the oppressive yoke of good brewing” and “anti-Dogfishism.”

@hillfarmstead Elaborative, These Walnuts Be Gaspin These Tickers Ain’t Ready For Action

June 21, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

If you want to make beer nerds pass out from the blood rushing to their inner thigh sweat glands: 1) release a collaboration beer that hits two midcontinent hot spots 2) add an adjunct to it (walnut beans) 3) release it in Vermont 4) make it 1 per person. Oh shit, if you listen you can hear the flapping shut of labias like firefly wings. It is Horace incarnate the way that beer nerds lose their fucking minds over prospective tasting. I love when beer nerds give up amazing beers they havent tried for another amazing beer that they haven’t had yet. The lulz that I reaped were on the swords to plowshares level when the BA Kopi for Cherry Rye trades were going down. Later I saw people giving up T25 for MS3000 and wiped my brow with a calm collection and noted the disparity. Long story short, people want this shit. They jockin on them Chad/Shaun nutssszzzz of the WAL variety. Let’s see if Jackie O’s distributed this to 300 employees and ruined shit.

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn’t stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

Availability: Limited (brewed once). bottle (4), on-tap (1).

Notes:
Tart Brown Ale brewed with Ohio Walnuts. Aged 18 months in a variety of oak barrels… in friendship with Brad at Jackie O’s and Chad at Crooked Stave.

A: Alright hold onto your lifeless squatless asscheeks, this beer is dark, has a mahogany sheen to it like an Oud Bruin and wispy lil 1/1 Black Mana Will of the Wisp that fades with a khaki collar like a Fubu 3 piece suit. Shit is basically the ESPY awards with more lacing. Even Reggie Bush would think this was over the top.

AHHH no wayyy you are 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

AHHH no wayyy you and 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

S: This reminds me of Oud Bruins for dayzzz, some will disagree as is their right but the nuttiness is only present at mid 60 degrees. It is more of a currant and light lemon aspect meets a huge porter/roast zeitgeist. Let’s take it back to the first party when you tried your first Molly, before you were sippin Rodenbach and not givin a fuck, them Oud Bruins would hit you hard like Kimbo Slice. This leaves that almond tannin aspect in your nose but a tart black chery shasta aspect mixing with it. I am not going to say 6th grade sleepover, but SNES may be involved.

T: The other 5 people who reviewed this are full of shit for the most part. Let’s just put that out there. There is no walnut going on for the most part. If you start rubbing your nips expecting nuts, keep expecting. This is like how Jackie O’s released NUT and you were like “THIS DARK APPARITION SUCKS.” It is like that, except they nailed their nut onto Prolegomena. You expect this shit to have lambo doors and wild out with deep roast and tartness, but the walnut just nods its head in 2/4 as a support character lending more gumline tannic dryness than some Funky Buddha hardcore adjuncty busted nuts. You get some black cherry but the roast kinda works the door akin to CD4 aka the most underappeciated fucking beer ever. It’s not really sour, its not really tart, its not really a creamy Oud Bruin either. It is kinda like a Ford Flex where you feel like you could use it but you aren’t sure how.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

M: This has that hard as fuck water profile that Hill Farmstead imparts with that bizarre carbonation that levels motherfuckers with a balanced creaminess. That aspect blows me away every time and almost pisses me off. It is like the Coca Cola recipe for mouthfeel and they kill it every time. Even when they “fail” with beers like Jimmy, which I disliked, they still smash it on olfactory and mouthfeel and its still wordclass and has what linguists call “A method of intentionality.” I can’t dislike this beer simply because it is well done. I don’t like the Camaro SS redesign but, god damn it, 420 horsepower and the engineering is hard to disagree with. Even if this isnt as sour or nut laden as you wanted, it is still fucking awesome.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the ABV is a punchline to a joke that your dry cleaners will tell you later. The one two punch of tart and deep roast just washes hand over hand and your glass is empty. Take out your detective kit and look closely, I drank the whole bottle to myself and my acorn penis got full sensation. Every other bullshit site will show some 1oz forced perspective like Fritz Lang. I dont’ even know why I bother comparing DDB to other sites, this shit has no peers, lezbiahonest.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it…doesn’t feel that good.

Narrative: Lucretius paced wildly in his limestone cell, awaiting his fate with a tenuous repose. “For all reduces to matter, there is no soul, only one unity in matter, but getting killed for this would seriously fucking suck” he muttered to himself while rehashing a series of Hellenic hexameters in solitude. The comforts of atomism were reductionist at best. He ran his palms against the cool stones of his cell and licked the walnut residue from his gums, embracing his fits of “habit”: counting the tiles, recounting Gallic encounters with specificity, and espousing proto-materialist doctrine. Everyone was pretty fucking sick of listening to him. The forum was crowded with plebian well wishers and Lucretius provided little in the way of new gods or old. He was a synthesis that was easy to embrace, however, it did not provide a deeper clarity to any real problems an individual was seeking. It was a far cry from the Legumes of Pythagoras, but his existential hopelessness did little to rouse a pre-Octvaian world. Synthesis alone was not comfort, execution and mastery was only revered with Cicero, the pangloss nature of Cato was all that he could hold on to. For some it was enough, but those were the same Praetorian that did not need it in the first place. Many nuts were busted in that cell.

@Hillfarmstead Prolegomena, A metaphysical flanders red I KANT BELIEVE IT

June 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Back like 9 months ago when Hill Farmstead let people know about their forthcoming beers, there was a smattering of beer boners that pumped so hard the earth’s orbit was affected for a single rotation. The idea of a full on sour from Hill Farmstead had people log off of their Gawker websites long enough to fill out their Santa wishlist for this beer. So this beer is named after a continental work of philosophy BUT IS NOT EVEN PRUSSIAN IN EXECUTION. So let’s get a sick n0x pump for this flanders and see how many La Folie’s it’s gonna take to land one of these. ERMAGERD SO MANY LER FERLERS.

Haters be all anti-legomena, tossing wd40 on those rusty ass hoverhands

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
Flanders Red Ale | 8.50% ABV

A: This is a deep muddy crimson that takes some serious illumination to bring those classic RUUUBYYYY tones to bear. The carb is dead on and the lacing is like frilly Mormon lingerie, substantial and excessive. It’s more of a flanders mud or a Flanders mahogany than a flanders red, but if we all tried to be Rodenbachs then we would all be driving Nissan Altimas not getting our dicks sucked. What kind of world would that be?

Beernerds just see that black widow logo and cntrl shift N, delete that web history and bust loads over Vermont gems

S: In some Flanders there is an astringent aspect not unlike nail polish that is muddled with cherries. Such is not the case here. There is a bold Malbec/Cabernet aspect here that screams a certain degree of dryness but there is also a kind of plum/raspberry farmers’ market that reminds me a lot of Caracterie Rouge, baller as fuck. It seems more gentle in execution than some of the more tart flanders red classics, but if they just brewed a fucking Red Poppy clone I could just sit on my testicles in a cold plastic chair and skip trading altogether.

T: This from out of the gates is creamy pleasant and raspberry cherry oral sex through and through. The tannins don’t dry out the gumline, the fruit isn’t too jammy, the creaminess is strapped onto a fleshlight by the acidity and nothing gets too out of control at this Flanders orgy. Anyone who distinctly picks out the port is probably full or shit and hasn’t had a ton of port, but I would say the port aspect is more like a black cherry over and above the tawny port aspect. Then again, most people are just full of shit. They say they will be there for your adult circumcision and then you just have to drive yourself home, fucking selfish.

A gentle flanders with imperceptible abv, my face be all like

M: This beer is creamy at the outset but then hits this acidic raspberry dryness akin to Framboise de Amarosa that dries things out. This is like a Ronco food dehydrator that roasts the fuck out of cask oak and leaves you with some cinnamon/fruit dried remains. Think of the most baller Fruit by the Foot with a distinct tartness provided by a perfect vintage of Sour Patch Kids, red 5 variant.

D: This is dry and imparts a certain creaminess that is a bit cloying at room temp, but why are you drinking a Flanders red at 70 degrees you fucking idiot? The finish is clean and washes away with a delicious berry aspect that begs to put your face back down in it and write out the alphabet with your mouth. BECAUSE IF IT TAKES LONGER THAN THAT YOURE DOING IT WRONG.

It is a blend of old, new, and strangely familiar: I LIKE IT.

Narrative: Wesley Jeskerson typed away feverishly on his APPLE II computer while draining artificial fruit drinks into his mouth. The clear plastic twist tops were cast around the room like spent shells from a barret .50 cal as he pounded them in succession while typing out his manifesto. “A Polemic Manifesto: Concerning the Ongoings of Squeezits and the Nature of General Mills Intervention.” The document had almost maxed out the 12 megabyte hard drive with its pages and pages of discourse. Some had failed to see the duality of fruit, others accepted pure juice as an inherent maxim of child lunches. “THOSE FUCKING JUICY JUICE WHORES-” Wesley clenched his jaw and pounded feverishly his final pleas for the fate of his beveage magnum opus. “The palate has an inherently analytic aspect, well beyond the additives, the additives are known only by application of synthetic application, a posteriori concepts. JUDGMENTS OF FRUIT JUICE EXPERIENCE ARE INHERENTLY SYNTHETIC. The pure concept of juice drinks must still be inherently synthetic and not a priori because even Juicy Juice has foundations of sensation based in experience. In expounding upon the limits of cherry profiles, the question is presented: Can Any True Knowledge of Beverages be presented on a Metaphysical Level?” Wesley laughed out loud and drained his glass of 1997 Chateau Margaux. The executives at General Mills were about to get a fucking earful, he had finally identified the Zeitgeist Ecto Cooler and presented the metaphysical inquiry of plastic juice bottle substitutes.

@gooseisland Cherry Rye Bourbon County Brand Stout,

June 10, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

God damn I am sick of hearing about this fucking beer. When this first came out on Black Friday all of the 312 beer nerds were slapping their blubbering labias together crying about how “THER AER ONLY 50 CASES OF THIS BER MADE!!!1!” because their Whole Foods ran out. Boo fucking hoo, now they have to enjoy it on draft at Public Option or some shit. But really, that makes sense, InBev takes their most popular craft line and does a straight up Sole Composition release with it. Oh wait, then a billion cases of it start landing a month later and even people in New Jersey were trying to push their crude digits up in the O-ring. The requests that people had when this initially dropped were hilarious and stagering, looking for RareR DOS and BA Kopi and shit. The lulz were not insubstantial. Anyway, let’s review this Shirley Temple trainwreck and get to the bottom of what kinda mantits are being hidden under those stylish North Face jackets.

I know I criticize shitty pours on this site, but srs take a small pour because the rest might be committed to the wanting sink sarlacc pit.

Most people may not recognize this beer with > 2 ounce pour. Some of the finest midwest offerings seem amazing while enjoyed in a line, 40 degrees outside in a 1 oz format.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.70% ABV

A: Just like that rest of the BCBCSBCSBCSSBSBS lineup, it is heavy, viscous, settles with some generous sheeting and a pencil thin head. I didn’t come into this expecting some amazing head, it’s like a Mormon dance, only darker. The legs sheet with the clear alcohol profile but ultimately this is pretty to the numbers to the other BCBS variants. You can’t really hate on a mediocre dude who puts in his hours and goes home and sleeps with a gun under his pillow. Just leave him alone, srs.

open this amongst a bunch of 2013ers and watch them lose their shit over the massive 12000 bottle whale you just produced.

S: Oh fuck, they took a page from the Bramble playbook of “How to Ruin Wordclass Stouts in 1 Easy Step.” It’s a fairly short manuscript. Alright for everyone attempting to trade for this beer, I want you to open a BCBS, add a tiny splash of water to water down the ABV/mouthfeel, then go find that Bolivian dude who sells shaved ice, the one with a huge head that is like 4’8″ tall. Ok now pump 7 pumps of cherry extract into your Stout snocone. You just made Cherry Rye. This has zero cherry tannins or any complexity on a real fruit front and is seriously like drinking BCBS with Sucrets in your mouth and then chasing it with a Fruit by the Foot. Those are flavor profiles that work super well, fucking Rye whiskey and ripe fruit extract. I for one am always enjoying my Templeton with a pile of Gushers. Far underneath the rubble there is the BCBS you love, chocolatey and satisfying, crushed in a mound of adjuncts and horrible intentions.

T: Alright so if the cherry profile wasn’t pronounced enough, take that homemade Cherry Rye you were working on and toss a splash of Robitussin into it. The medicinal quality of the cherry reminds me of the flouride you get from the dentist, mixed with roast, chocolate, mallow, rye crackle, and finishes with a sort of red Squeezit profile. If you remember those, you probably were pounding poon in the early 2000’s, peeling those flared Mudd jeans off. The base beer is still there with a fat cherry black eye saying it doesn’t want to press charges and you want to see it fight back and get rid of this dominant fruit asshole who doesn’t belong there. Battered stout syndrome for sures.

I personally think a sticky cherry mess is horrible but some people are into crazy shit.

M: This has that amazing sticky coating profile from BCBS, except it brought its diabetic cousin in tow with its amputated leg and awkward cherry crutches. You want to be like “get out of here you cherry handicapped fuck, BCBS and I were having a conversation.” It’s ironic that the people who hate on CCB abd Bruery beers for residual sugars and FG problems pull out their tiny maraschino puds and juice it over this saccharine mess. Stouts and grenadine don’t mix unless you are a postmenopausal woman who mashes on cherry cordials and watches PASSIONS while the stouts earn the dollars doing man shit. That isn’t misogynist, it’s just a confused ass analogy.

D: Not at all. I had a legit pour and couldn’t finish this shit, epipens were stacked like spent shells out of a barret 50cal. Some of you bleachedbuttholes might have stumbled upon this website and be all like “HE PROLLY JUST DOESNT KNOW ABOUT BCBS LOL!” I drank this next to all of the other variants and this was second to worst edging out only the ubiquitously feces-clad Bramble. Don’t tell me about palate fatigue either, this shit is srs not good. The only redeeming quality it has is that people can wear themselves out seeking this sack of testicles out and leave people without scrotumpalates to land legit beers. A year ago people had their nips blasting talking about how Bramble was gonna improve, and I anticipate that this too will age like a 1991 Tercel with no AC. Seek this one out and waste your time, leave Ale Apothecary and Treehouse Brewing alone, let the real tickers through.

LOL i haed a fruit stout am cicerony now, expert time

Narrative: No narrative today, it would be some thinly veiled shit about a cherry orchard that is planted on a toxic waste dump or something I am sure.

Your Macro Beer is About to Be Baller as Fuck

June 7, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

These assholes went and flipped the script on the beer game, look out for your shit Drie Fonteinen:

http://ontapbeer.com/

Summer is upon us, that means adjunct lagers, hefs out the ass, and trifling witbiers galore. You probably already look like the world’s hugest prick at any BBQ that you go to, what with you either 1) bringing your own beer 2) asking what they have or 3) bringing your own glassware. Fear not, a product that the world has been clamoring for is here: ONTAP BEER. No, not like draft beer, this shit:

OH FUCK IT’S LIKE MIO FOR YOUR ROLLING ROCK.

So the website expects you to carry this little vial in your pocket to spruce up your mediocre beer into a horrible craft beer analog. Don’t like the way that Miller 64 tastes? How about if we add some caramel extract and hop oil to it? BOOM INSTANT BOTTLE OF BA DARKLORD. I don’t understand this fucking product because even people in Section 8 housing can buy Lagunitas with their EBT cards. Craft beer is not expensive, at all. If you are in a place where you are fiending so bad for a shitty Fat Tire or some other bottomshelf craft offering, maybe skipping beer might be the option for you. Maybe you should clear your browser history before you let your GF use your computer. waitwut.

Imitation craft beer is almost always as good, your move Google.

I love how one of the “flavors” is “American Ale.” What does that mean? This bottle of afterbirth shoots in and turns the adjunct lager into a top fermenting ale from America? They have made the lambic version of this product for years, it looks like this:

OH SHIT MY MICHELOB ULTRA JUST TURNED INTO DON QUIXOTE.

I love the spin that marketing likely prolapsed their collective buttholes to push out:

“Make each beer you drink the same or make each one different. Its up to you how each beer in the case tastes. Which is why we say it is time you get to enjoy Your Beer, Your Way!” You like American Ale? Put more in, boom instant amber, oh shit a lil more, who has a big barleywine now? Oh wait, entire bottle that Keystone just magically turned into an Old Ale. I think if you non-ironically pulled this shit out at any social gathering it should come with a card to enroll you into a 12 step program because your beer priorities are fucked.

I don’t even know why I bother addressing shit like this. The people who read my website are already degenerate asshole beer snobs well beyond the rebellious intro-FUCK MACRO phase.

Imagine the shit eating grin on your face at a wake when you pull out your PALE ALE FLAVOR and jazz up that paltry Shock Top offering from the host.

check this shit out in action:

The marketing committee then lets you know what an amazing deal this is, “The American Ale single bottle contains enough flavor enhancer to convert a 18-pack of domestic beer. That’s a saving of about $10.00 over buying 18 craft beers! Plus it is gluten, carbs and calorie free.” I am no scientist, I hardly even sparge bro, but how do you convert a shitty lager into a bold AMERICAN ALE without adding carbs, gluten, or calories? Oh, it’s xantham gum and brown food coloring? I knew Goose Island had some proprietary secrets.

This product is like hiring a cut rate tranny off of Craigslist to hold a plastic vagina for you. There are cheaper and less degrading ways to get what you are seeking, put your plastic object away.

yeah it seems like craft beer, until a real world class craft beer shows up and War Machines your butthole into a pale mess.

Midnight Sun 3000, Consecration+Abacus = Snow Mexican Barleywine

June 5, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I think it is pretty well-established that Arctic Devil is an amazing beer. Berserker continues to impress, and Barfly is a distant reminder to some of the beta n00bs, but even the 2012ers know about it. On the face of things, Midnight Sun shouldn’t be dropping balls, barleywine or otherwise, on limited releases. This beer is a clear exception. This beer dropped more balls than an evangelical 8th grade choir. So what went wrong? This beer was essentially the last 10 minutes of Into the Wild in beer form, someone tried to do something adventurous in Alaska and ended up dying from poison.

Just how I like my barleywines, with a 3 finger head, wait wut-

Midnight Sun Brewing Co.
Alaska, United States

Style | ABV
American Barleywine | 13.20% ABV

Before I pound this O-ring like a dried persimmon, let’s hear the company description so the lulz can resound throughout your shitty studio apartment:

“In this ridiculously wonderful world we’ve created, we make beer- one batch at a time. As the scientist in us demands, we number said batches. And while every batch of our beer is special for us – providing a fresh start on a new day, establishing an experimental opportunity, bringing together our minds and spirits, projecting our company forward – each batch also scores time.

To celebrate our 3000th batch, we present a Belgian-style Barley Wine, simply called 3,000. Luscious layers of flavor begin with barley, wheat and rye malts followed by triple-hoppping with a single varietal. Fermentation, using three distinct yeast strains, achieves complexity in character and, of course, alcohol. This special batch was transferred into red wine oak barrels for eight months to age gregariously yet gracefully. After bottle-conditioning, this exclusive beer is ready for immediate enjoyment although it can be lovingly cellared for future festivities.”

A: Ok first order of business, look at this barleywine and tell me if you think that attenuation is appropriate for the style. Does it look like a barleywine? Does it look good? The look of this beer reminds me of an all extract shitty brown ale homebrew that your buddy makes you try. The head is excessive and almost makes me scratch my chin and accuse infection but we will allay those concerns for the time being. Does this beer look like other world class barleywines?

Oh wait, it is a BELGIAN barleywine, so my critique gets to dodge a bullet. I remember when some people were calling this the second coming of M, just like BA Hifi batch 2 is the second coming of Wooden Hell, except BA Hifi is still pretty awesome and this is Merlot and taint esters.

Mixing a barleywine with shitty cabernet ISN’T NORMAL. Not even one more hybrid like this. Not one.

S: Speaking of taint, the smell of this thing is offputting not only for the style, but in general. No one makes roe ice cream for a reason, some tastes don’t merge well. I am going to list some smells descriptors and you check yes if you want them in a barrel aged barleywine: merlot, cranberry, lemon rind, tangelo, blackberry, wet leather, post-menopausal tears, toddler laundry (non-soiled), pennies. If you said yes to any of those, you must be Cicerone level 5: contrarian belt. There is very little barleywine going on here and its like someone took a perfectly good bike and retrograded it to be a really inefficient baby carriage. I don’t want a bouquet of out of place fruits atop my pile of belgian esters, get that shit out of here, you don’t see successful breweries alike Stone taking malty beers and putting them in shitty red wine bar-…oh. OH.

T: This takes all of that tannic afterbirth and adds this coinstar machine maltiness whose jankiness can only be represented in scientific notation. There is a copper, burnt malt, scorched boil water (if you have done this, you know the hell and sticky disgust it creates) baked beans, Kendall Jackson Merlot, some interloping fucking leather tastes, and finally closes with a shitty Bartells and James red grape sort of taste. Now go dig through those used needles and find me the barleywine in this trainwreck. Just drink a cup of grape juice, lick a Jansport and save yourself some time.

I don’t know what kinda crazy shit goes on up in Alaska, but this beer might be a glimpse into the world north of the wall.

M: This is the gassiest barleywine ever and is needlessly bubbly on the palate. Then it imparts those horrible tannins and its like a mister spraying Yellow Tail weak ass wine all over your gums. You end up dry but violated with this fucked up stickiness all over you like fountain water from a two star casino.

D: Not very, the biggest impetus pushing me along was the fact that this was a bitch to trade for. Even still I drainpoured most of this. You know you have a quality barleywine when you start contemplating the calories and wondering if eating glass would somehow be better for your body. I love Arctic Devil, Moscow was solid, but this is some Gitmo experiment barleywine water boarding. Ruined a malty treat for all of us with bruised red grapes no one asked for. However, in Alaska the men to woman ratio is extremely skewed, so maybe this is the female Pinot Noir up there, when they get off from their logging duties or shift at the beef jerky company they sit down and laugh in a glottal fashion while sipping this and watching Cougartown or some shit.

You CAN make a hybrid of some mishmash shit, but that doesn’t mean that it will turn out good.

Narrative: Rampage Jackson clutched the fountain pen with uncertainty and listened to the lawyers go through the terms of the negotiation. “Ok, so clauses 2 and 7 stipulate that Rampage is still “Bad Ass” and “universally feared” but Viacom New Media will acquire him as a cooking host for a variety of tasks and spots.” Rampage wiped the sweat from his massive ebony brow, reading the various clauses on oso bucco and balsamic reductions. “Wait tho, so I am not fightin nobody? I just be like cooking?” he asked puzzled and a man with Tom Ford glasses and offensively large bicuspids laughed to the floor to ceiling glass windows of the conference room. “HA! Yes Mr. Jackson, you will be an incidental novelty talent to a series of unscripted life shows, and doing semi-fictionalizations of “Kitchen Disasters” all the while still remaining Rampage Jackson, I hope that is clear?” the slick talent agent rattled off. “But wait, I am good at fighting, and combat, why I gotta be making pastries and shit? Why try and make me into something completely different?” There was a certain lucidity to his voice and the men leaned forward with curious expectancy. “I mean like, why take something huge and awesome and emasculate that down to something totally irrelevant and worse? I mean you are just ruining what I am all about, turning it into something else simply for the sake of being irrelevant. Shouldn’t the point be to be entertaining and not just shocking, seems to Rampage that if you ain’t pleasing the public then-” the men gathered up the signed forms and there was much glad handing. Bravo was about to turn out another hybrid reality show that was intellectually debasing and horrible to all involved. Just another day’s work for those cultured gents at Bravo.

dontdrinkbeer

Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

Category Archives: barrel aged