Category Archives: beer

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Three Floyd’s Bourbon Barrel Dark Lerd, ERMAGERD DERK LERD BERNBAN BERRAHL.

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I think we already know how I feel about the BASE BEER for this beer. However, the vanilla bourbon version was amazing. Another top 100 bites the dust. Let’s see how this bourbon banger holds up and how far it strays from that sticky sweet base beer in its roots.

The bottle count was 420 brah, so sick. Straight up 7th grader walez brah.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 15.00% ABV

A: As dark as Satan’s magic, a thick black darkness with a dark khaki head to it, everything about this just proclaims obscure undoing. The head takes forever to subside and the murky depths below allow no light to pass through, not even at the edges or bottom. Oil. I don’t remember the base beer being this thick but it starts to lean towards the Abyss and Huna levels.

You like bourbon? rare beers? char? roast? sweetness? 15% abv?
Well then prepare your anus.

S: theres the expected coffee and toffee but also a tiramisu smell or a rye bread in there as well, complex in the overlapping smells, but the alcohol is well integrated. God damn, I could smell this beer until it was oxidized and flat, holding the limp corpse of the beer that used to be. It was like when Sugar Ray’s “FLY” came out, WHAT A GREAT SONG, you just couldn’t get enough of it. Except this beer is actually good and Mark McGrath is a jizz waffle.

T: The mild sweetness from the base beer sets in first with a gentle macaroon and vanilla that is so gully so hood. Next up is light oak char bitterness and toasty smokiness, next a coffee and toffee finish rounds out the taste. Very aggressive in every aspect, but so balanced and in onctrol, it’s like getting your ass beat by a series of different martial arts in a matter of seconds. The middle chocolate dryness is aggressive and I would liken this to bourbon barrel Plead the 5th in a big way.The alcohol is the first to come but the complex sweet and roast start pounding on your tongue just as hard. it’s over in 5 seconds but with serious residual taste. Just like every single Craiglist date that you have been on.

This beer fills me with too. much. want.

M: It coats like cough syrup, if you drank this at 8 am, it would be with you almost until lunchtime, also if you drank this at 8 am you have issues that I cant wrap my head around. Very thick, chewy, like liquid chocolate that you can just feel making residence in your gumline like those mucinex characters, only brown, and with presspots of coffee. really over the top. Then add in a third layer of

D: In some respects, very drinkable, its a warming, thorough drink that hits so many notes youd appreciate it regardless, however, anyone who has more than 2 of these is a liar, or has demons that we cant comprehend. It is aggressive, but gentle, absurd, yet refined. You want to introduce your Vietnamese girlfriend to your parents, but her bourbon barrel face tattoo might be too extreme for them. BUT THAT IS JUST HOW YOU LIKE IT.

Packing all these Fedex boxes wears me out, but is worf it.

Narrative: The threadbare pallor of the bone throne was welcoming, and cool to the touch. “The vassals are ready my liege” he spoke through baited smoky breath, thick with mist. “SEND THEM IN” proclaimed the necromancer as he wet his undead throat with a…ok I just…I can’t
“you can’t what?”
“Just keep with the script”
He exhaled, knowing he true intent, a soul as black as murky depths, the production assistant with hatred flowing through his veins, encouraged and strenthened with every fetched latte, piercing darkness with every pejorative hurled his way. “I just..the script”
“OH YOU JUST? WHY DONT YOU JUST STICK TO YOUR JOB” the director ejaculated with scarring epithets. “SOON MY DARK MASTER SOON” he clutched an amethyst pendant and embraced the darkening of his soul. The third coming of the Kentucky Pazuuzu Bourbon God would soon be upon humanity, and only this one dude at Panera would be spared from the 9 snarling jaws of relentless masticatio- “COME ON! They are BAGELS, not ROCKET SCIENCE!”

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. Cantillon Brabantiae, A Beer Born in 1989, Older Than Your Illegitimate Girlfriend.

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Well as if yesterday’s review didn’t push things to absurd new levels, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 1989. You read that right. This was brewed to commemorate a king of Brabant, or a governor, or maybe someone who bought a Chevy Nova in Belgium, I forget the story. Some epic shit happened and Jean Van Roy made this to commemorate that instance. Maybe someone beat Metroid without using the freeze beam and Jean was like “Well fuck all that, I am making a gueuze to make sure everyone knows this went down.” The problem is, not many people were getting their jimmies rustled in 1989 for this style of beer, relative to today. So let’s drink it now, and see what the fuck the business is.

The label has that Walking Dead sort of gothic charm to it, like you know it went through some shit just to be opened on a random weeknight in America.

BroBrah
Brasserie Cantillon
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This beer needed the ginger touch of a latter day saint and had the fickle cork like the hymen of a finicky prom date. It took a solid 10 minutes to ease that thing out and guess what, 23 years later, a slight hiss emitted and CARBONATION was present. I was seriously surprised. I mean, not enough to pull some Tony Stewart victory spraying all over some white trash people in the south, but admirable. My glass had tons of strange residue and floaties, oak, yeast, cork, god knows what. No lacing, no head, no stems no seeds no sticks.

A blast from the past, that is surprisingly modern.

S: This is hands down the most amazing part of this beer. This reminds me of summer nights walking through musky warm orchards in Fresno, the humidity and tool shed dankness just palpable in the air. You get leather, musk, worn bicycle seat, weightlifting gloves, and crushed leaves. That shit all sounds horrible but in tandem, it is like liquid nostalgia that puts you on your ass with reverence. Go right now, open your old comics or Magic the Gathering ca- oh, you played sports? Well why the fuck are you reading this website? Go do some sports shit, you’re still in shape right?

T: I guess everything in this review needs to be qualified by the fact that this beer is old enough to drink itself. HOW META IS THAT. Anyway, you get a nice sharp acidity that lingers for a moment and subsides into a massive funk like old laundry that imparts this tangelo zest and yearbook paper. It is like being sublimated INTO a piece of the past. It isn’t the best or brightest gueuze ever, but it seriously delivers on that haunting aspect of the past note. I didn’t get any oxidation or dead hand control on this beer, it was still very drinkable and delicious, but it did remind me of dancing to Tony Rich Project in 7th grade.

This is old, musky, and you know some tawdry things went down up in this mix. So much AIM cybering.

M: This was dry and extremely dirty, if that is an apt adjective. There was this entire memory lane aspect to this beer that could not be denied. You ever get caught cleaning your room and you suddenly are looking through all your old Wizards and Nintendo Powers and- oh no? WELL THEN GO DO SOME SPORTS SHIT. This site isn’t for you.

D: This is not drinkable on long sessions. Go to a lake and think about the hottest person you ever kissed, think about the worst, take a picture in sepia, watch a grainy VHS tape of yourself as a paradigm of vanity and try and reconcile that self interested mess with the current person that you have become. Look the past in the face and embrace the Hegelian historical dialectic.

Can you ever really make a 21 year old gueuze relevant to anyone? Only on this site.

Narrative: “ALLLLLRIGHT! We need to ramp up production ten fold for the next fiscal quarter!” The Belgian overlord boomed into the loudspeaker. The Belgian factory workers, sticky with pulp and apple skins could scarcely understand the need for this. Much. Produce. One thin worker began to sob into the sorting machine as he pulled defective granny smiths from the line. “Adelbrecht! Show fortitude! For how else will those who have mild vitamin C needs get their apples? Will they be supplicated with your tears my dear Adelbrecht?” He nodded and thrust his jaw forward and wiped the acidic juice from his face. Little did they know, all of these apples were not for eating, but fermenting. Their hours of tedious labor would be pureed into a slurry of wasted dreams for the swill of mass communication and sociology majors. The grist of their labor would be ground, not unlike their dreams, into a putrid mash to be consumed near rivers by reluctant underaged girls. Adelbrecht’s efforts would be in vain. The past had come full circle, the punishment of the future would be realized on a daily basis, unending, with disaffected prejudice.

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Cantillon 50 Degrees North 40 Degrees East, Things Are Getting Geographic Real Quick

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Bust out your compasses, we are going wale hunting in today’s review. As if slaying normal loonz isn’t enough, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 2007. The deal behind this beer is Jean Van Roy took his inimitable gueuze and found an incredible Cognac distillery and aged it for 2 years in barrels from that distillery. You know how membranes of a mitochondria fold in upon themselves to generate more ATP? That is what is going on here, except this is churning out purified RAR. Let’s get loonzy in today’s review.

I hope your harpoon is sharp, or your Paypal fishing vessel is well stocked.

Cantillon 50n4e
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 7.00% ABV

A: The appearance of the beer is an almost tame affair. The golden hues of the normal gueuze are present albeit with a deeper golden aspect to it and minimal lacing. There’s very little carbonation but, at this point, I could give a fuck less about some carb issues. Go buy a Fantome or an Upland lambic and call it even after you clean the beer off your ceiling.

Cantillon one offs? You can only look like a total asshole asking for moar.

S: There’s a strange interplay of elements here, you get the classic musk and lemon zest from the Cantillon gueuze, but there’s a deep sweetness and caramel candy finish to the nose that wraps the two together like a candied granny smith apple with booze. The cognac seems to have faded a bit, but it feels like a more balanced product as a result.

T: The taste is an incredible Chimera of elements going on. At first the beer presents a tart acidity like a freshly cut grapefruit with some blood orange zest, then the e-brake is pulled and this shit flips faster than an Integra being driven by a 17 year old hmong kid. The beer magically turns into this sweet mellow golden aspect with tastes similar to caramel, toffee, macaroons, and a lingering boozy sweetness like brandy, or, more properly, cognac. This whole affair is strange, like making out with a beautiful asian girl and then finding out she is actually a beautiful Bolivian girl. You aren’t even mad, just confused as shit as to what is going on.

At a certain point, I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and lingers with this swirling interplay of acidity and sweet baked biscuits. While the gueuze is disassembling your gumline, the sweet notes are reapply a sumptuous new ceiling on the roof of your mouth. Ultimately, your mouth becomes a public works project for strange ends.

D: This is not the most drinkable beer, even setting rarity aside. I really enjoyed it, but it is only fair to judge this against those that it shoulders ranks with. I personally enjoy Fou Foune and St. Lam much more than this “interesting” gem. If this Cantillon were on Match.com, all the sections would talk about how it does roller derby and has “such a great personality.” Don’t put a ring on it.

So they took this one thing and added it…to this other….thing….

Narrative: “Why are mommy and daddy fighting?” Baby Cognac wondered as she watched her parents tear apart their small abode. “OH OH OK THIS IS RICH! NOW IT’S….CAN I FINISH? LET ME FINISH!” Papa Gueuze was in one of his booze filled rages after a family outing. It had been chaos since they stepped into that Macaroni Grill and the din of excitement had now reached its sweet fever pitch. “Oh…SURE SURE….revert back to that, let’s focus on THAT ONE TIME AGAIN!” Mama Applezest was brandishing a large cutco knife and threatening no one in particular. Baby Cognac attempted to reconcile this hectic environment with her chaotic upbringing. No one wanted to visit, no one wanted to stay, but little cognac baby still had high hopes for later aging. She would get a pink VW Bug for her birthday to make up for the abuse living in that barrel of a home.

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Alpine Brewing Company, McIlHenney’s Irish Red, Gettin Some Red, Get Getting Some Red

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I seldom go off the hoppy path with Alpine. Their hoppy offerings are beyond reproach and represent the cadre of the best that each style has to offer: Hoppy Bday, Bad Boy, Pure Hoppiness, Exponential Hoppiness- ALL AMAZING. Their less hoppy offerings can be a bit questionable. Today’s we turn to the red side to see what they have to offer in the way of hoppiness, everlasting hoppiness.

Alpine McIlHenney’s Irish Red
Alpine Beer Company
California, United States
Irish Red Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: Big shocker here, the appearance has a deep rub red note with a solid amber that resonates throughout. It is a little light on the lacing and carbonation, but it isn’t entirely a drawback. Again, I strongly dislike this style so it could be dead on and I would still be a shitwaffle complaining about the inherent qualities.

CARAMAWL MAWLTS AND HAWPS, now kith.

S: Huge caramel sweetness and dry hop bitterness. There’s some belgianesque turbinado dark sugar notes but it is more caramel than dark fruits. The resins from the hops are nice but ultimately wish I was drinking one of the other Alpine hop warheads.

T: The caramel has a mild sweetness on the front end that is very refreshing. The middle body has a pleasant hop profile that is a careful balance between the agro hops that alpine is famous for and a swift drink ability that is exceptional.

The perfect beer for a moment of calm reflection.

M: The mouthfeel is very light and gives less coating than even the standard pale ale. Given the purpose of this beer, it is fantastic as a result. If this beer were chewier, it would miss the mark. Again, the sweetness, hops, and thin crisp finish give it a solid lineup.

D: This is very drinkable and is strangely memorable for how subtlety it imparts its presence and then give you a calm high five and takes off. It comes off like a friend you haven’t seen in a while that doesn’t hang around all morning after a night of solid drinking. I don’t know if this is representative of most irish people, but it seems like a pretty solid homie.

You can come from a proud crew, but that doesn’t make you amazing by proxy.

Narrative: The family knew Uncle McHenney had a serious problem, but they addressed it with that sort of amiable sweetness that you could expect from relatives in denial. “I mean, who hasn’t brought a flask to a funeral and thrown up at the wake?” Aunt Marjorie questioned the group. The family all nodded and chuckled playfully at Uncle Mc in the bathtub, gurgling gaelic swears to himself. “I don’t want to start pointing fingers here and ‘oh you defecated in my boss’s fish tank’ there, I love old Uncle Mc, and that’s all there is to it.” Like a magical irish spell, Uncle McHenney rose to his feet and gave all the onlookers sticky high fives. “Ehh foyour te toif? Yeah, yeah, that’s when yafakking knoew the knackers to have the noids!” Uncle McHenney exclaimed as he bolted out of the room, leaving sticky boot prints across the new berber carpet. “OH UNCLE MC!” the youngest exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders.

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Cantillon Fou Foune, Loonz Beside Me, Swerving Through Traffic with my Founes Behind Me

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Enough killing off 2 liter growlers like Spaniards and Native Americans, time to get back to our Belgian roots. I don’t need to really say anything about this beer 1) it is Cantillon 2) it is their inimitable apricot fruited lambic, Fou Foune. People always get their stone fruits all juiced whenever this beer gets brought up, opened, or even discussed. I once took this to Cabo and drank it on the Tropic of Cancer, and it was an Italian bottle of Foune. So that means it went from Belgium, to Italy, to Ireland, to Florida, to California, to Cabo San Lucas. That beer is more well-traveled than most Americans from Alabama. Anyway, let’s get that juicy juice in today’s review:

Sipping Foune in Cabo, well this Friday now appears immeasurably shittier.

It’s like in Cold Mountain when Jude Law looks a pic of his long lost love and, wait what-

Fou Foune
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: This has that classic turbid Cantillon straw meets orange juice sort of pulpiness to it, but the frothy carbonation seems inviting like a water park that is just clean enough to seem legit. The lacing is minimal but, did you really expect some massive frothy nitrogen head? You unrealistic bitch.

Send her an apricot lambic, girls be loving apricot lambics.

S: I can’t begin to tell you how amazing this beer smells just short of taking you to a Kentucky apricot orchard and rubbing sweet straw in your face. Maybe pull a Jansport backpack over your head, squeeze a bit of peach and crabapples onto your face, get things real tawdry up in this mix. That’s essentially the experience, but is it ever inviting. Some people like aging this, other haters just open it fresh and let God sort it all out. I have had both, EVEN ON DRAFT, and it is amazing regardless of circumstance.

T: This takes the old lactic base and musky wet leaves from the OG gueuze and dials things up a notch to a nice apricot meets acidity level that is impressive through and through. There’s an intense apricot skin and dryness that hits your gumline with nana’s peach preserves in town and light sort of biscuit quality that just gets its head held underwater mercilessly by the delicious acidity.

Fou is like an old friend who comes back from the past to warn you about a Founeless future.

M: This is crisp and dry like biting into a granny smith apple that happens to be coated in chardonnay and peach jam. The balance is incredible despite the excoriating acidity, and the 750 never lasts as long as you expect. I would suggest seeking some out but most trades for this beer are one way streets. It is an anomalous situation where people trade for Fou, but no one ever gives up a Foune. FEEL ME.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and will give you gurgle guts on par with the State Fair. But like the deep fried Pepsi, it is entirely worth it. This is a world class fruited lambic and it is better than Blabaer. I said it. I defy you to find someone who believes differently.

Running out of Foune is strangely disturbing.

Narrative: Kelly Chancery seemed sweet enough. She gave her friends rides to school in her lemon yellow Mini Cooper, never asked for gas money, and even tutored the water polo athletes due to their abject inability to circumscribe triangles. Deep down, she hated each and every one of them. At age 12 her parents sent her to a strict Belgian exercise summer camp. She was served nothing but overly ripe pitted fruits and engaged in vinegar diets and extensive cleanses. Her taste buds were so badly burned in the enterprise that she returned a jaded, bitter shell of herself, figuratively and literally. “Hey Taeler! Hop on it! Are those Rock N REPUBLIC!? OMG you are such a hot BITCH!” she quipped and stared down her brow as she grinded her mandible. The tiny convertible held 50 lbs of explosive materials and ammonia nitrate in the trunk. She sucked deeply onto her Lemon Sucrets and waited for that sour day that she would burn them all. Kelly Chancery only seemed sweet enough, she was sour to the core.

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Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, Three Hour Tour, For People Who Like to Drink Milk Stouts While Shipwrecked

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Another 2 liter, draft only adventure? That’s how we do it on this site, always on the grizzy. Anyway, this little gem pops its head up once a month on the top 100 and has consistently solid ratings so what’s a ticker to do, for every thousand I rate, another relative sues. Someone told me that they only filled 50 growlers of this, so guess we have another draft only rarity on our hands. Just another day on this site, I know. A gracious CO local hooked up this MN growler and I gave it the business and was left with a sticky sweet milk stout mustache. Does my body good.

I would need more than just 2 liters of beer if I was going on a Three Hour Tour. Step up your oceanic mariner game, Minnesota.

Three Hour Tour
Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery
Minnesota, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.10% ABV

A: This is going to be a huge shocker, it is a lightly frothy baby stout with wispy carbonation and playful little baby duck carbonation that bobs in the quay. Just look at it, it is too adorable to finish an entire growler of. After taking down 20% beers, a 6% stout feels like something you drink in between racquetball sets or during a crossfit workout. It has dark hues at the center and light mocha at the edges, adorable all around.

This beer reminds you of sweet things from your childhood, only…different…

S: This is sweeeet. Maybe even more “e”‘s are warranted. There’s definitely the lactose element and it comes across as a achingly decadent milk chocolate like those janky chocolate rabbits you get at easter time. Shit gets Cadburry real quick with a mild coconut and vanilla batter aspect. This doesn’t scream stout, it calls out cocoa liqueur.

T: This is light and again, just a diabetic’s worst nightmare, sticky cavity inducing sugars through and through. The sweetness came off as a bit synthetic with this sort of oiliness in the finish that just seemed out of place for a milk stout at 6% abv. You get the chocolate and the Nestle Quik thing going on and the finish is like an Almond Joy that went through the wash, crumpled up in your JNCO jeans.

I find myself questioning the authenticity of the coconut in earnest.

M: This is incredibly light but at the same time spraypaints a line of glucose all the way down your throat so that you aren’t super stoked to take the next shockingly sweet sip. I can handle sweet stouts, I take 50/50 Eclipse to the face like a Brazzer’s video, but when you don’t have a solid malt base to level things out, it comes across like chocolate Kool-Aid with far too many residual sugars. I dislike char in general, but this needed something to level the 6-4 frame out to keep on rolling on those 808 drums.

D: This would be exceptionally drinkable in every aspect if not for the cloying sweetness. You know those was bottles with the juice in them? The juice is great, but you dont need all this pageantry when you just want juice. Similarly, if you stripped out this adjunct coconut aspect, you would have a solid porter, and I would be fine with that. This was just too much for my childish palate and reminded me of Darklord 64.

Tickers be so quick to upload beer complaints. I will upload my beer diploma never.

Narrative: “Dr. Ira? The Kensington boy is waiting for you in bay 4,” the dental technician called and pulled the x-rays for Dr. Ira to review. “God. Damnit,” Ira stated to himself as he looked upon the monochrome disaster. It was like this every 6 months, the tattered enamel looking more porous and similar to a drive by shooting in an MS13 neighborhood. “Well Brayden, I don’t need to tell you anything you don’t know. Have you been using ACT as we discussed?” Brayden folded his arms and wiped a streak of milk chocolate from his stained lips. He looked as though he ate a box of Milk Duds just prior to walking into the office. “Well Brayden, you see, your teeth, you have them for your entire life and that means-” as he continued Brayden pulled out a Fundip and began judiciously applying coats of powdered sugar to his teeth as the fluoride was washing away. “This child has no regard for his dental well being, he cares only for the sweet decadence of mandibular destruction!” Dr. Ira called out in a strangely effusive manner to the other Chatsworth Dental patients.

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Dark Horse Monster29, Two Liters of 20% Abv Double Barleywine to the Dome Piece

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I know what you are thinking, “a DOUBLE barleywine? What manner of chicanery is this?” Fear not, I have this one under control. This beer is a brewery only, growler only release from Dark Horse. Why this brewery chose to growler a 20% abv beer in two liter format is beyond me but, here we are. I am told something to the tune of 30 growlers of this were filled and it was $50 a fill, so this was quite an undertaking. This is not an iced beer, just straight up doubled down barleywine, so let’s get to it.

No need to worry, this is just another monster.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States
American Barleywine | 20% (?) 17.50% ABV (?) There are conflicting reports and I am unaware if this was lab tested. Either way, God damn.

A: Just look at that tepid inky blackness. The growler leaked en route from Michigan and getting even a drop of this mahogany darkness on your skin is like tattoo ink or that black stuff from Pirates of Dark Water. There is little carbonation to speak of but just look at that sheeting. The clear alcohol on the glass takes everything like 16th century prelates. There is no lacing, no embroidery, no quilting to tell old Gam Gam about. This beer has zero fucks to spare.

Spread that sticky double barleywine all over the place.

S: The bouquet is outrageously sweet, with notes of caramel, oak, bourbon, vanilla, toffee, and Heath bars. I must reiterate: this beer is NOT ice distilled. Furthermore, it is not even barrel aged, but I am told that Dark Horse has sinister plans of actually barrel aging this beast and unleashing it upon the Michigan public to determine the extent that their livers can withstand. Detroit is basically the nation’s haunted house, so I am confident that this beer will not shake things up in that region.

T: This has an initial huge sweetness that is similar to charred brown sugar, maple syrup, mocha caramel, and some sticky light pine at the backend. This is a complete monster through and through. I shared this at the Bruery with the staff that had just finished the 19.x% batch of Black Tuesday from this year and everyone in attendance was mystified at this beer. This drinks in a manner leaning towards liqueur in the intense booziness and sticky residual sugar profile. I spread this around the attendants of the tasting room like a DUI Fairy, blessing each participant with court sanctions classes and bus rides.

Take this to a club. Share with size 00 women. Post results.

M: This is incredibly sticky and lingers for a long time after the finish. I drank about 12oz of this and that was an incredible feat given the complexity, sweetness, and downright booziness. This is not exceptionally difficult to drink, but it will put you directly to bed. You don’t get the alcoholic burn that you would be expecting from a Manticore of this proportion, but it will still light up your chest like E.T.

D: This is a highly nuanced beer that can be enjoyed completely flat and at room temperature, that being said, this is not exceptionally drinkable. I can only imagine the marketing meeting at Dark Horse where they decided that 64oz growlers were the appropriate serving size for this Chimera. I am glad to have tried it but it was on the upper end of what I can tolerate. I have to remind you, this is reviewing it in light of TNP, Five Squared, Double Black, and the other “ultra-beers” that I have tried. This warrants an entirely new style classification. In sum, a great beer that should be shared without hesitation.

If you open up a 2 liter growler of this, the time for fucking around has long since elapsed.

Narrative: Clarence Cimmerian was born in Madison County, Illinois to humble beginnings. The water birth was a success and he shed the successive husks of his nascent shell in accordance with the waning of the lunar cycles, as was tradition with the broodlings in his bloodline. His foster parents weren’t sure exactly how to treat him, what with his 7 clicking sticky mandibles and front hooves oozing acrimonious gel. Sure, he was a “monster” in the loosest sense, but what is a monster but that which has not been classified? The Cimmerians patted his smooth carapace and handed the sack lunch to one of his writhing metatarsus and motioned for him to board the bus. His compound lenses scanned his classmates and excreted a putrid larvae onto the classroom floor, for first grade was even more taxing for the dark grub harvester, Prince of a thousand reliquaries.

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King Cobra Premium Malt Liquor, Things Get Real When You Put the Python on Them

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Ah, we have come full circle from a world class geuze to a world class American Malt Liquor beverage. This is what Freshman year of college tastes like for most of my readers, or 7th grade for my more degenerate participants. If you drink a 40 of this you are 52% more likely to engage in fingerbanging, fall asleep behind a Whole Foods, or both. I know that using glassware is a malt liquor fail but, we tryna eat on these streets.

The underground is mine, I treat it like home. I am the reason brewers saying my name like Mike Jones.

Anheuser-Busch, Inc.
Missouri, United States
American Malt Liquor | 6.00% ABV

A: You know that feeling you got when you were at rock bottom and pawned all of Nana’s brass figurines? This is what they look like after they have been melted down. The lacing is minimal and you tear up when you pour it out of the regal clear glass 40 oz bottle. The stemware is totally ancillary to the experience. There’s a clear brassiness to this with a glowing orange aspect to the center, like a radioactive pail of rainwater: YOU MIGHT GET SUPER POWERS. I get the super power to buy multiple 7-11 Tuna Sandwiches and pass out in the entryway. WILL I USE IT FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

People that lift don’t drink this. Carleton Yoder can’t hang with the Cobra.

S: This smells like a blend of a light lager and a yeasty saison, like a yeast infection. This goes cream corn to the Monistat level real quickly. I actually enjoy the mild spice and vegetal aspect because if I imagine that this is a bretty beer and not just made with discarded canned produce, it is moderately pleasant. Considering the competitors in this field, this is one of the better offerings. I know, it’s like the old watch a marathon of MASH or Touched By an Angel dilemma where no one ends up a winner.

T: This continues the sweetness of the nose, kicks in some boiled carrot aspect, there’s a light wheat aspect and rounds everything out as though you filtered the beer through a Coinstar machine. I should pad out this section with more imagery but, I seriously don’t have much else to say about a movie that is 12 minutes long. Bane climbs out of the pit. There you go.

Oh sorry, I was calling for Cobra.

M: This is incredibly thin but do you really want a more substantial cling to this vegetal roll of nickels? If this was in a small format and left some more residual sugars, girls would drink this on the lake. Understand the analog to that is boys, who will drink this while contemplating which cold air intake will fit best on their Mitsubishi Eclipse. Then you jump a huge gap, and there’s shitwaffles like myself who open it to flame it and we all high five at how far we have come. I can’t go that route though because this hits the market segment dead on, provides a refreshing wildlife funkiness to it, provides a level of meta-irony that invites conversation, and ultimately won’t really get you that hammered. There are plenty of offerings from “craft” breweries like, let’s say White Birch, Mikkeller, and Cigar City. Go drop $15.99 on a Vuja De and tell me it is superior to this beer. I fucking dare you.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I can put away a solid 40 of this before my parole hearing and not even feel bad about it. The serving size is perfect, the taste is flawed, the history is immaculate, and the image is indefatigable. Revisit this gem with an open mind and an empty wallet.

I will drink malt liquor in stemware and drainpour M: rustling jimmies is my bizness.

Narrative: The tri-state paper conference started out all wrong. Jace Rawlings knew he should have printed his handouts on eggshell, or at least opted for some embossed text. Now who looked like a fool in the company of triple bond champions. “Hey…JACE…Jace was it? Lemmie see that business card again!” Jace meekly handed his main competitor, Chaz Merkel, his freshly minted card. “I see you uh, you went big here on the single poly blend low acidity, did you happen to print this off of a HP Smarttech 2200?!” The crowd burst into laughter. References to the notorious HP Smarttech 2200 were particularly in vogue after a notorious feed error warranted a wholesale return to the factory. The other paper executives laughed and laughed at his expense. Jace lowered his head and accepted defeat. As he exited, he left a single origami crane folded out of visualizing paper, three hole punched, a rare 2003 vintage.

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Armand’4 Geuze Herfst (Fall), Dropping 32 euros on a bottle of beer Herfst so good.

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How negligent can this website get? I reviewed Spring, Summer, and Winter of the Armand’4 series and straight up neglected to provide you with this banger: HERFST. Just so this is clear, here is how I would rank these Armand seasons: Zomer, Lente, Herfst, Winter. IN THAT ORDER. Well taking the bronze in such amazing company is nothing to be a sad panda about. Let’s get puckered in today’s review, for the geuze haters.

Love HERFST. Gueuze scars.

HERFST
Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen
Belgium
Gueuze | 6.00% ABV

A This has a huge generous billowing cloud of carbonation that is cummulus to the fullest. It is light orange at its center with light yellow and gold edges. It boasts a slightly unfiltered appearance. It’s like a 6 year old at CVS, you don’t want to touch him but you know he is a little sticky and filthy. The lacing is substantial as well, it leaves little party streamers on the edges of the glass with gracious aplomb.

With every season you expect a normal geuze, BUT THEN YOU GET AN AMAZING SUPER SOUR SOAKER. Dnt be fukn stpid Gooby.

S: Not surprisingly, it is stick and filthy. There are sour and sweet tart notes are blended with hints of granny smith apples underneath. I don’t want to go out on a limb but I am going to say a Skittle reduction is at play here. Compared to the other seasons, this has a funk and earthiness to it like the landscaping section of Home Depot. There is a great wet dog meets soggy alfalfa aspect that integrates with the acidity in a fantastic way.

T There is a pleasant sweetness for a split second with a latent backroundhouse to the bitter zones immediately thereafter. Its a sucker punch which leaves your mouth a bit dry but welcoming more if only for the strange assault. It’s like getting socked in the armpit, you aren’t mad youre just a little perplexed and glad it wasn’t worse. It provides a mild hop bite and this toes the line closer to an extremely funky saison but this provides an incredible acrimonious punch to the tart zones.

This is a huge beer, but small and restrained at the same time. It is a paradigm of delicate imbalance.

M: This is very light and dries in a refreshing fashion hitting that gumline deep and hard. It reminds you of an advanced cousin, the one who learned compound cussing earlier and gave you Too Short cassette tapes. Its like the tiny asian fighter who you underestimate who delivers fast swift blows that disorient and surprise your mouth. It is clean, crisp and damaging to your bitter zones. It is concurrently musty, funky, and also coats with a nice wheaty aspect to it.

D: This style is in my opinion fantastic for hot weather and, if you have some water on hand, a great companion outdoors on the beach or a boat. If you like very mild lagers then you will disagree but then you are also a raging pacifist and it is unclear how you ended up reading this review in the first place. The juiciness and earthiness of this perfectly captures the spirit of fall: straddling the heat and acidity of Zomer with the somber earthy tones of Winter.

32 euros PLUS shipping from Belgium? This is why we can’t have nice things.

Narrative: 47 years of service. Francine Manzana gave that caramel apple pop company the best years of her life and she was terminated “for cause” for reading a Patricia Cornwell novel when she wasn’t clocked out. Francine wasn’t going to take this lying down. She knew the secret behind the tartness in those pops, and she had full intention on taking this issue public. With her box of belongings from her desk she strode over to the quality control center only to find that Loretta was out. “I will make them feel the tart bitterness of abandonment, just like they showed me.” With a few calibrations she reset the dials and the mixture began running an entirely new batch of Caramel Apple pops through the line. Her acidic personality boiled inside with a deep complexity. She stared at her spiteful reflection in the bubbling pool of acidic green glucose. The wafts of the additional citric acid stung her eyes and nostrils. Francine smiled and tossed her mystery novel into the simmering goo, for she had an unemployment officer to speak to.

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Troegs Nugget Nectar, Would an IIPA By Any Other Name Taste This Dank?

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Whenever I am confronted with an exceptional red ale, I always scratch my head and wonder who this hybrid style is aimed at. If you like hops, why not just brew a dank IPA? This top 100 red ale just crushes any other beers that approach the throne in this style. I guess variety is the spice of life and there are even degenerates who enjoy hoppy porters, so anything can happen if 50 fucked Vivica. Let’s grind some nuggets up and sip this sweet nectar.

If you have been fiending for hops, this will cure your blue nuggets.

Tröegs Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Amber / Red Ale | 7.50% ABV

A: Guess what, this has ruby notes at the edges and a medium mocha center to it. I bet you didn’t see the red notes nestled in there did you? A good looking beer with no lacing and solid carbonation.

This beer throws so many pinecones.

S: great big hop profile pine grapefruit, orange rind, the red is hidden in the malt in what would otherwise be an exceptional ipa, but if they say it is a red, shoot, who am I to object? Would a red by any other name, etc.

T: I have a hard time accepting this as a red given its hop profile. They should just call this an exceptional IPA and stop with the pageantry. Sure, you have the malts and all this yeast run around but I feel it is like when they put glasses and a ponytail on a really hot girl to set her out as a nerd. Problem is, beer drinkers, and adolescent youth (sometimes aligned) can see through these tactics. I want an unadulterated IPA, not this Red with her paint splattered overalls and beguiling Freddy Prinze Jr. crush. Call an IPA for what it is and she will love you more.

“Red ales are a fun style to enjo-” I don’t remember asking you a God damn thing. Red ales are for people who eat at B.J.’s not real binge drinkers.

M: Again, guess what, it has the mouthfeel of an IPA. This review feels like what Car and Driver must go through in reviewing the Firebird and the Camaro concurrently. It tastes like an IPA, it is an IPA, it’s here, it’s clear, get over it.

D: Picture a solid IPA, then add some mellowing malts to it and call it a red. There you go. It is exceptionally drinkable but its identity crisis warrants mentioning, over and over. I don’t know that this compels me to squeeze any nuggets, specifically, but its does make me wonder why this beer is not shipped to the California and we are left to sift through…oh wait…I see why this is not shipped to California.

“I like red ales because they are from Ireland, and so am I!!!” My face when-

Narrative: Jacob Walters could have showed up at Bull Run. He could have showed up at Appamaddox. As a union solider he basically could have enlisted wherever he was needed but, no, he held to his pride. You see, Jacob Walters preemptively joined the United State Air Force, a squadron that would not form until almost 100 years after he signed up for a union military. As a result, Jacob refused to fight in Antetam without aircraft, would not serve on Sherman’s march, absent air support, and was disinterested in any carpet bagging reconstruction unless he were flying a zepplin or a plane. He was a staunch air pilot and no civil unrest would wrench that from his grasp. If someone on the streets of Burmingham saluted him as an officer he would waft his hand and lightly reply “Red…I am a red…ale? Just call me RED ALE!” He was batshit crazy, but the military let him fly his ornithopter just the same.