Category Archives: beer

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Reinaert Flemish Wild Ale, Almost As Wild As Oscar Wilde, But Not Nearly As Sassy

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Time to start dredging the old reviews to see what the world used to be like when even a trip to the corner store was an exciting adventure before I was a Fedex dependent asshole. Anyway, let’s see what is shaking with today’s wild ale, a spicy lil belgian gem that is pretty widely available.

Wanna know what it looks like out of the bottle? Too bad, old me didn’t have that kinda foresight.

De Proefbrouwerij (bvba Andelot)
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 9.00% ABV

A: very light color, pilsner almost, golden to dark yellow, nice three finger head with moderate lacing, little crackling to it like when Johhny Five gets hit by lightning and is imbued with a sassy new life.

Hipster bunny approves of wild ales of all styles even HOPPY wild ales.

S: This has citrus, sour grapes, a lemon zest to it and a kiwi undertone. There’s a bit of fall and DMV musk to it, but overall, a pretty tame affair as far as “wild” ales go.

T: This wild is very mellow on the palate, imparts a sweetness similar to most belgian goldens with that biscuity maltiness, pillowy soft sweet finish, not exactly comparable to the American wild ale type, but still very well done, the sourness of the Bretanomyces is very restrained, the sour undertones come near the end and are almost hand in hand with the light hops. The untrained palate would almost mistake this for a more malty pilsner. I guess if you feel like a light challenge this is where to go. Then you don’t get the shit beat out of your mouth like playing Battletoads on single player.

I am not saying that wild ales should destroy your mouth but… aliens.


M: This has good coating for its light appearance, it takes a few seconds to absolve the taste, but then there’s some good coating and lingering aftertaste of mellow hops. I can polish my monocle and enjoy this lazily by the Seine river, or in Alabama, either way.

D: Overall, very drinkable, not exceptionally noteworthy, and rather cost prohibitive for the average wild ale consumer. For the same price you could drink damnations all day which I feel is superior in almost every category, alas that is comparing different classes of beers. One thing I will note is the exceptional covering of the 9% alcohol, it is imperceptibly hidden in a sweetness and the floury maltiness. Perfect for entry level beer drinkers with ABV interests. ABV-curious if you will.

My face when wild ales don’t bring the sour rage.

Narrative: “nah nah, just a couple days” he lazily smiled, “just until I get my things together.” How could you say no? He was such a close friend in high school, sweet, cloying, palpable, but now he’s dominating 2/3rds of your living room as his capricious abode. “See the plan is, I am getting my pilots licens-” you start to dreamily daze off while looking into his eyes, there’s something empty to him, yet intoxicating at the same time, “yeah so basically after I fought that guy I was out of Cici’s pizza and it was a shithole anyway” he continues. Why are you letting him stay here? there’s nothing exceptional about him but you just incurred signifcant expenses making him a nice dinner, it, wow his eyes look like poolwater, just a sweet discountenance that lures you in. “OH SHIT NETFLIX! ABOUT TO ADD SOME TITES! Thats what I call titles” ok at this point he’s getting a bit irritating, but the way his bicuspids fortuitously lean against his incisors, that smile, he could leave his ASICS gym bag on your Z Gallerie coffee table all week. “Sure..sure..” you meekly reply, knowing that this short stay will be fulfilling, yet deceptive.

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Goose Island Matilda, Naming Beers After Geriatric Women Tops New Beer Trends

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Ah my first dance with Goose Island was with sweet old Matilda. She was gentle but instructing at the same time. Oh how we’ve grown on to sample the other “rarer” madames in the GI lineup, but I don’t see Bourbon County waiting for that 2 a.m. call, only sweet old ‘Tilda. Anyway, let’s check her out in today’s review.

There was a time when I thought that this actually passed for a beer pic. Oh how we have evolved.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: the head is a full two finger affair that subsides after a moment into some gentle lacing, nothing out of the ordinary, particularly for the belgium strong style. Strangely calm color, inbetween brass and copper, nothing too menacing here, a step above a pale ale in its appearance. She’s a sweet old lady who can always jitterbug with light white lacey doilies for your cup of amber tea.

I can’t stay mad at you, old Matilda.

S: This has some grapes (white), pear, a bit of honey dryness, clove, nothing musky or out of the ordinary. very sweet bouquet. This has a huge distribution and is my air raid shelter from shitty BMC when I go to overpriced West Hollywood bars.

T: This ale is very sweet on the palate, no hoppy finish, almost sweet through and through, the finish is a mild crisp ginger almost, reminscient of a saison, not in the style of a belgium strong. the sweet fruit notes come through and linger shortly.

When I am old, I will still do my chores like a baws. Or better yet, no chores for me because I am fucking old.

M: the straw appearance gives an upfront note as to what you will be expecting, a quick burn that doesnt coat especially well, but the yeast is present and allows the spiciness to gently pass. Upon tasting a creaminess develops to enhance the fruit notes, but again, passes rather quickly. It was like that Chimpanzee movie, come on Disney, a “movie” that is 78 minutes long? Come on.

D: A solid blend between a saison style and belgium table ale, I feel the “STRONG” is a bit misplaced, but maybe my american palate is too jaded for extremes, however, this is made in Chicago, where are the meat packing houses and the spirit of the Jungle, the bitter cold, the inclement people? This is a solid Nissan Altima of belgium ales, very drinkable but not quite notable in any respect. In light of the pircetag, probably will not purchase again, pound for pound. The 7 percent is nice, but with the hops and ABV arms race out there, you can get pilsners in 7 percent so its particularly not a heavy hitter for its style.

The perfect drink to raise your children on before they get into heavier shit.

Narrative: You said this would be the last time, you curse yourself, breath swilling cold in circlets from your lips, “you ARE A BELGIAN ALE” you told yourself that when you looked in the bezzled mirror, you told yourself when you filled up your handbag, dont sell yourself short, you can do this. A john approaches in a Mitsubishi Mirage, not exactly your market but hey, “Belgium strong, what’s your pleasure” he looks displased…is it…my color? No…I look almost how I should..” YOU? You’re a belgizn strong? I had you pegged more for a French farmhouse girl…what’re you into?” He’s judgmental, and I am nervous, he knows, he knows I am mediocre and he’s smelling it as well “I am into whatever can foot the bill sweetie” He gestures knowingly that this baleful ale will be costly but ultimately fulfilling. The mighty 4 cylinder revvs towards consumption. It was a tawdry sham, but it was still fulfilling deep down.

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Johnathon Wakefield Fruit Berliner MASHUPS, For Beer Drinkers with Scurvy and Dental Insurance

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Alright so let me see if I have my facts straight here, renegade brewer Johnathon Wakefield from Florida has been cooking up crazy new sours/Berliners/wilds for some time now. Cigar City had him come on as a hired gun to make Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner for Hunahpu Day and people’s jimmies were rustled so hard. Anyway, I have 4 of his fruited berliners for todays mega-mashup review, FOUR TIMES THE REVIEW FOR YOUR ZERO DOLLAR INVESTMENT.

Well let’s start this off with the titleholder for Ratebeer #1 Berlinerweiss, Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner

DFPF, hot sticky sour action, NSFW, 18+ only.

Just look at that beer, god damn. It looks like someone at the Juicy Juice factory decided that toddlers needed to sip on some purple drank. This wheat beer has some serious purple hues, majestic magenta, and radiant pink hues at the edges. The smell is like a bag of tropical jolly ranchers, all the obscure fruits kids know only in sucrose and high fructose corn syrup form: guava, mango, passion fruit, durian. The taste is sharp with a high and tight acidity that hits my bicuspids first and starts tearing shit up like a meth addict on Christmas morning in a tropical rehabilitation facility. There’s notes of tropical starburst, Welch’s grape/passion fruit blends, and things girls order when white sand beaches are within a 5 mile radius.

When I poured this out of the growler and saw girly purple drank, I was like-

Verdict: Probably the second best berliner that I have ever tasted, which bring me to MIAMI MADNESSSSSS

The original name for this was Cleveland Madness, but that beer was bitter, full of depressing riverwater, and unemployment.

This beer finally addresses that old conflict I always seem to be running into: drink juice or beer for breakfast? Well, now you get the best of both worlds, seriously, there is so much juice and fruit exploding from this beer I hesitate to state that it is technically “on style” but Funky Buddha’s berliners weren’t on style either but god damn are these beers delicious. The smell has a shipwrecked aspect to it of apricot, huge pineapple, and not in an alpha acid hop way, I mean like acidic juice in your eyes pineapple. The waft continues with some tangelo and a brackish aspect to it that somehow works in this beer. The taste reminds me of an ultra classy greyhound or top shelf jungle juice with huge citrus and tropical acidity like a mai tai. I can’t stress this enough, the fruit is overwhelming and casts a lunar eclipse over the wheat base beer toiling below like a Morlock. The finish has a thick coating of juicy pulpiness.

Juicey acidity, tropical fruits, and a german weissbier? I don’t even know what this site is about anymore.

I love this beer, despite the overload of nutrition presented, but then A NEW CHALLENGER APPEARS-

In collaboration with Jamba Juice, the chunkiest wheat beer this side of Nordstrom Rack.

Holy chunkadunk. This beer has coating in a realm usually reserved for Abyss, but in an entirely different manner: STRAWBERRY RHUBARB. Part of rhubarb will kill you if you eat the wrong part. First we get juice, now straight up vegetables on this site? I know, this isn’t a Jillian Michaels crossfit nutrition guilt trip, just a chunky thick berliner to sip on while you shop for size 42 jeans online. The smell is straight up strawberry, tart jolly rancher, red skittles, and a light raspberry. The taste flips the shit switch and goes into a strawberry voltron that packs a light milky lactose aspect, yogurt, and jamba juice vitamin C boost. Again, the fruit just serves as overlord to the wheat aspect of this beer. SPAWN MORE OVERLORDS.

Four amazing Berliners in one night? Damn, I gotta prep for this one.

So we have seen the tropics, jamba juice, and the inside of an alcoholic crossfit studio, now we wander to latin america and taste some sticky watermelon sex-

Holy murky Prussian mouthgasms. Not sure if this is the dregs of a Cuban fruit cart or a tart treat from Florida: TRICK QUESTION THOSE ARE THE SAME THING.

MORAL IMPERATIVE WATERMELON BERLINER.

Well, this may not be the prettiest beer in the world, but I am sure saltwater aquarium enthusiasts will be on board for this one. The murky nature just lets me know what this berliner is hiding underneathe, like those M.A.S.K. toys where a boring ass gas station turns into a battle station, this beer mobilizes for war like El Salvador. The smell is water watermelon pulp, O BANG, Mexican restaurant refreshments, light vegetal aspect, white seeds, and a sharp acidity on the back end. The taste follows the nose like Toucan Sam and takes you to a seedy burrito spot in the Mission almost instantly. The pulp and murkiness just serves as a vessel to the D-Day fruit war that is your back palate, the heavy artillery shells with sour bombs on the bitter zones throughout and several fruity purple hearts are awarded to all. YOU MADE IT SOLDIER. The vegetal aspect is the only “authentic” aspect I have a real complain with, the white rind seems out of place but adds authenticity to the brew. “Tell…tell my mom I died honorably, not juicing watermelons for an esoteric ::COUGH::: weisssss-”

This was my least favorite of the four, but it was still pretty cool, Mr. Heisenberg.

So there you have it, all four done in one review, and NO ONE SAID IT COULDN’T NOT BE DONE! And let me allay your concerns, no narrative today you greedy cocks, I can’t assemble these four beers into a fruit Voltron to- wait…that’s a brilliant premise. Maybe with the next Wakefield series you can see the chilling conclusion of what happens to Fruitron: Protector of Dade County.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This beer is bizarre yet strangely refined.

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

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

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

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

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Terrapin Sun Ray Wheat Beer, An Evil Genius From Georgia Has Constructed a Sun Death Ray- in Ale Form.

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I like Terrapin. I am not the biggest fan of hefs. So who will win this tug of war? Maybe people from hot humid ass areas know how to work that wheat stalk? It worked for Live Oak, let’s see if they can bust some thistles in today’s review.

Buy a Tool poster, some incense, move to Athens, Georgia and get hella into toasting wheat.

Terrapin Beer Company
Georgia, United States
Hefeweizen | 4.50% ABV

A: Cloudy tangerine color, nice radiance to it, looks like Hi-C but with murkiness to it. Carbonation could use some work and the lacing is non-present but, for the style, that’s not a deal breaker. Again, it is like a sun ray in a glass, but the sun can also burn your eyes during a lunar eclipse so, there’s also that.

When I first popped open this bottle the radiance emerged, blasting my corneas to dust. The sun doesn’t fuck around.

S: Tons of nectarines and tangerines, a bit of a chemical tartness detected, but that could be from a variety of things. Obviously a huge wheat profile with biscuity cornbread notes. If you’ve been the hef rodeo, this is a solid bull that will get up on your orange haunches and give you a solid buck to your wheatstones.

T: The initial taste is sweet like a tangerine with a bit of orange hidden at the back, it fades into a foamy wheat profile that is expected but what really is noteworthy is the way that it just resonates for days with a genuine citrus note. This isn’t a citra/simcoe false citrus, this is like they actually squeezed it into the beer or something and it is really fantastic. This is a bit chewier than I desire for the style but that’s not to say that this is some malt bomb by any means.

A sun beer for people who are constantly punished by the sun. The irony of nature is not lost on me.

M: I love the way the feel coats but just exits like a 7th grade drama student, promptly but making a lot of noise off stage. The juicy notes just sustain like a telecaster note. The hops are incredibly subtle as though they are a kinda of a negligent babysitter letting the citrus profile just run rampant. Overall, very accomplished wheat beer. Particularly since I find this style to be shallow and pedantic.

D: This is incredibly drinkable. I can only assume that they sell this in the south in no smaller than 30 packs given how fast it can be consumed on a hot day. I don’t even own a Mustang 5.0, but drinking this beer makes me want one to work on. I don’t even have to be doing anything, just lay under a mid-80’s mustang with this beer complaining about corporate fat cats. It’s that kind of crisp refreshness.

If you take down about 9 of these, you will feel like a complete hard ass, but then again, if you take down 9 hefs in session, you are probably an overweight Sigma Kappa anyway.

Narrative: Walter Burrs was the sweatiest turtle in the Splishy Wallows. His course obese hide spilled through the furroughs of his shell. “Hey….:::wheeze:: hey fellas…how’s the algae bed today?” The others groaned as he pushed his wide carapace in between them. “Whew, hot one out there today!” he bemoaned his thick fat terrapin breasts rubbing against the face of his peers. “Even the algae is warm” his sticky plastron rubbed against the others, making them exceedingly uncomfortable. “God damnit, it isn’t even hot! Why is he such a sticky fat bastard?” “Myommm nom nom” he exhaled while swallowing, his brow wet with a sticky, acidic sweatiness, his mouth covered in wheat grainy goodness. “Later we should go to the rive-zzzzz” he sticky hot breath billowed across the group as he passed into a grain coma.

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Geary’s Summer Ale, Because Summer Is Almost Here, We are Doing Topical Reviews Now.

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Alright maybe I fucked this one up, but my bottle looks totally different than all of the other bottles that I have seen of this. Then again this is a pretty obscure gem, but let’s just say mine looked about as much like a Kolsch as Morgan Freeman looks Icelandic. Anyway, here’s a review, if you want a refund, tweet me, I will instruct you how the cow eats the cabbage.

Some times you feel like a Kolsch, sometimes you feel like a nut.

DL Geary Brewing Co.
Maine, United States
Kölsch | 6.00% ABV

A: An off-copper color with huge transparency. There is mild lacing and tiny middle carbonation. The whole thing comes off like a bottle of honey but much more translucent and less opaque. Like I said, it could be the same beer that everyone has reviewed, hell if I know, I have love handles and stretch marks and I am only an expert at eating 4+ items in a single trip at Taco Bell.

The perfect beer to give to recent high school graduates, you can be the cool austere older guy who introduces them to beers hardly anyone has heard of. Chicks like that, right?

S: There is a huge caramel malt to it with some beet sugar notes and a cinnamon/nutmeg sort of finish. Then water, out of nowhere things get all Kevin Kostner waterwold up in my olfactory. Maybe that’s what summer is all about? Kevin Kostner? Postmen?

T: The taste is not exceptional, but it isn’t exactly bad either. For a summer ale, it must be light with a clean finish right? Well that is what we have been lead to believe and this beer his the nail on the head. It imparts a sort of crackling savory caramel then a huge wateriness and finally, “where did half of my glass go?” This beer does not disappear in a Live Oak or Mongo IPA sort of way. This is just incredibly thin and you need to drink gulps of it to impart the taste. This is not a huge selling point in my book. It feels like a very watered down Belgian dubbel almost, but without the cool yeast notes and just a sort of bitter caramel at the end.

Knock back a 12’er of these and you can be the Blackout Ranger.

M: This is very light and would be a nice alternative to Newcastle or Fat Tire, were I even drinking them in the first place. Ultimately there is not a whole lot to return to. The finish is nice and lingers for a bit with a sort of simcoe/mid-range hoppiness to it, but again, it just doesn’t feel that exceptional.

D: This isn’t even exceptionally drinkable due to the burnt notes and crackling copper flavor that I get from it. Again, this isn’t a bad beer by any means, but it just isn’t worth your time either. I would liken this beer to opening a sui generis café in Grenich Village, you have to be exceptional to survive and this certainly is anything but.

I can only hope my 5 year-old daughter turns out this bad ass.

Narrative: Life at the metal works wasn’t ideal, but hey, it could be worse. Sure there were fumes of zinc, copper, molten tin, and smoldering oxidized steel; but lunchtime was always a refreshing experience. Carl Atkins particularly enjoyed his Panini sandwiches that he painstakingly prepared each morning. “Mmm, you can’t beat that smoky proscuitto” he indulgently declared to his co-workers. They put up with him and his decadent ways but in the end, it was a metallurgy works, and no one could smell anything. You felt bad for the guy, living in denial with his little bit of summer breeze every day at 12:00 noon. “Oh man, you can really get those salty savory notes,” everyone nodded in disbelief, knowing that all he tasted was raw copper ore and faint talc in that sandwich. “I think the aioli really makes this feel like a summer sandwich, you know?” They knew.

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Wachusett Blueberry Ale, This Beer is Straight Up Stomping My Berries

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Well I already reviewed Cascade Blueberry and Cantillon Blabaer, where do you go, my lovely? Where do you go? I guess we can round out the fruit beer profile with this lil firecracker. Let’s see if it gets the juices flowing or if it should have remained on the vine in today’s review.

Was this beer the inspiration for Blabaer? Mayb- No. Definitely not.

Wachusett Brewing Company
Massachusetts, United States
Fruit / Vegetable Beer | 4.40% ABV

A: Thin straw color with incredible lager-like clarity. The lacing is nice and the middle carbonation rides throughout. Looks like a very well done, albeit thin, lager. I must admit, seeing absolutely no hints of blueberry tinting makes this highly circumspect of some adjunct or additives, maybe I am just breaking their berries but it is suspicious.

Blueberries are a simple pleasure even 2nd graders can enjoy without a single pang of guilt.

S: This smells like grape soda, or the blue sticks of fruit stripe gum. The blueberries are present and accounted for a in a huge way. There’s a very faint tinny hint to the back, similar to the way Heineken and Beck’s retain that but, its so overwhelmed by fruit notes, it’s tough to really point out.

T: The taste has very little of the fruit that was present in the nose and drinks like a pilsner with great crisp corn at the outset which fades into an ABC bubble gum grape flavor at the end. It isn’t exactly grapes or blueberries, its like I already ate them and now am drinking a beer.

Can’t afford blueberries? Want to get drunk on public transit? I have just the libation for you.

M: It is incredibly crisp and refreshing, it’s easy to take huge pulls off of this glass and it practically begs to be enjoyed outdoors. It’s tough to say a lot here, there’s a mild cracker note to it but you move your mouth slightly and it flees quickly. it’s like that God damn Booberry cereal, good luck finding it outside of the month of October.

D: This would be this beers strongest suit and arguably most redeeming quality. This comes off as an adjunct lager but done “better” than adjuncts I suppose. I had the same problem with the Sam Adams Cherry Bock as I do as this one, there’s this dental artificial flavoring to this that comes off as disingenuous.

Alcohol can say many things. This beer says “hey lagers are for preteens too”

Narrative: “BLUE BERRIES FOR SAL!??! YOU WERE GOING TO REENACT THAT BOOK!?” Mr. Mitchell’s face was beet red. “Well, yeah so we went up past the brush land and yeah I let them run around looking for a bit, searching out some blueberries, what have you.” Chase pleaded, trying to smoothe over this catastrophe. Mr. Mitchell ran his fingers through his hair pacing at the base of the trail. “OH GOD, THEY COULD BE, please, just help me look for them, we will deal with you later.” The two darted left and right, the lowlands of Wyoming were not exceptionally blessed with wild blueberry patches. “Is that- I think that’s them over there!” The two scampered over logs and felled trees towards the clearing. “OH MY G-” There the two children were, their baskets strewn about pell mell, blue berries smashed all over their faces and clothing. “Da…no more blub-…bluberries for Sal…” little Kaitlynn’s voice gurgled through the messy blueberry puree oozing out of her face hole. “GRRROOAARRRR!!!!” the resonant call of a Black Bear resounded through the meadow. “OH GOD YOU REALLY DID REENACT BLUEBERRIES FOR SA-!”

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Cantillon Classic Gueuze, Tippin Backwards in the Belgian Chair on fo fo’s

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Ah old Classic Cantillon, the gateway drug for many, sought by even more. I always love seeing this gem in boxes that I receive, yet surprisingly, I have never broke my back to seek it out. Just good fortune I guess, or Belgians are just making sure my tastebuds rally so hard. Either way, let’s see what this tart gem has to offer in classic style.

Man this site really took a dive in the old beer picture quality the last few days, oh well, you get what you pay for up in this HTML wasteland. At least I dont have pop under ads trying to lengthen your penis and refinance your home….OR DO I?

Cantillon classic 100% lambic, Gueuze 5.0%

A: It has a murky hay color to it with wispy tiny bubbles that make generous lacing. The glass seems to radiate the yellow 5 looking color throughout the body of the beer. It’s like a dirty lambic lemonade with a murky radiant desert lakewater aspect to it. The bubbles are wispy and dime out instantly, with nothing to contribute to the lengthy tastes presented.

Each time I have this, it hits hard, and is all over too quickly.

S: There is a mild apple and wet carpet smell to it. There’s white grapes and the smell of a coat after someone walks in from the rain. It is different, but still very appealing. I enjoy this but, after having St. Lam, fou foune, Blabaer and all the other cast of characters it is tough to go too nuts over this simple gem. It’s like the Impreza is bad ass, but if you have driven an STi on the reg, it doesn’t blow your mind anymore.

T: The funk is very present in the initial taste with a granny smith apple middle. The notes exhibit a mild sourness of grape skin with a lemony zest to it. This isn’t a tart bomb like some other Cantillon’s but I would say this is their consistent Honda Civic in the wheelhouse. It never seems to disappoint, I can say it’s a permaISO for sures, but there are some others that are similar and less of a pain in the ass to lock down.

Almost everyone I know is a whore for Cantillon, not everyone shows it off so readily.

M: The mouthfeel is crisp and light with minimal coating that tosses some acidic flavors like ninja stars in rapid succession and then peaces out just as rapidly. There is much peacing taking place.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable if you have a glass of water to cleanse the palate every once and again. It imparts a ton of dryness for the sweet notes it gives off. You end up with that movie theater “ate too many sour patch kids” sort of raw mouth. That sort of “Craig list has all kinds of deals” bitterness on the palate. That kind of bitterness. “Show the jury where this beer touched your palate on the doll” bitterness.

This beer trips all kinds of alarms, but in a good way, not 5am before a final sort of way.

Narrative: “Please…just let me go free…I won’t talk to anyone about this hidden Acai berry farm!” the covert agent pleaded dutifully with the farm hand, Brouwerj. “Well, I think the boss’d be pretty sore if he knew I was letting people go free all higgledy piggl-” “Ok cut! Everyone take 5. Mike, can I talk to you for a second?” The two left the set of the farmhouse and walked over to the confectionary table. “listen mike, I know that you know that I know you only got this role because I am dating your cousin. That is fine. But you have to listen to my direction notes ok? This is a Belgian farmhouse, in every single scene you come out with this Appalachian drawl. What is that?” “Weeeeell shucks I-” “YES, see that, don’t do that, you don’t even have to have a decent Belgian accent, just be yourself, ok?” The two went back to their places and the scene began a new. This time Mike’s radiance outshone even the lead roles as he eloquently delivered tart and cunning ad libbed barbs and pleaded in the wet hay with the title character. Not a single eye was left dry on that soundstage that dry. The boom mic bobbed mournfully between the sobs of the grip. In the end, the movie was cut to a single monoscene due to his riveting improvised speech while gathering apples and issuing a tearful goodbye to the secret agent. “CUT! That’s a wrap!” “Weeelllll shucks I-”

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Founder’s Breakfast Stout, In Michigan, You Can Drink Huge Stouts for Firstmeal. It Flies Over There.

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Better late than never. Sure you ingrates are accustomed to hearing about brutal beers at 9 a.m. on the reg, but I had to mix it up with some afternoon delight for you, or a nighttime sesh for you East Coast kids. Anyway, I have had this plenty of times and love it a little more on each passing. This photo sucks but I dont feel like going through tons of beer pics to lock down a pic of a glass with black ink in it, just cut me some slack sheesh.

You can try this at home, mix oatmeal, chocolate syrup, Buffalo Trace, and coffee into a smoothie. Sounds legit.

Founder’s Breakfast Stout 8.3% abv

A: This beer has a real gentle coating to it with minimal lacing. It seems to impart the message that, “hey fellas, I will be here for a lil bit, don’t mind me,“ and then resigns itself to a deep cedar blackness, waiting to be beckoned. The oats in the stout gives it a great stickiness and foamy character without excessive carbonation.

Beer for breakfast, just like being a kid again. Or a little bitch, either way.

S: The smell feels like a gentleman’s breakfast: initially you get some nice smoky notes from a bacon or charred grist like you are a yeoman farmer, then comes coffee with a great mild nature, it isn’t that jerk coffee from Surly, this is more understated. The coffee notes are like jokes on Arrested Development. Ultimately, the chocolate notes emerge and as your mouth forms a tight “o”, the Nickelodeon prophecy comes true: COFFEE, BACON, and CHOCOLATE FOR BREAKFAST.

T: except you are an adult and you, hopefully, don’t drink this as your breakfast shake. If you do, don’t let me judge, alas I digress. This has an amazing silky mouthfeel with ::coughsatincough::: chocolate notes upfront nice and nice coffee notes to round it out.

Some kids had Nintendo Cereal, others were fed imperial stouts. Ah, childhood.

M: There is a nice, albeit, mild sticky lacing with great coating and the oats give it this awesome maltiness that makes it a force to be trifled with. Get your trifle on, become trifling. But seriously, this aspect gives old KBS a serious run for his money if only for how pleasant it reclines and makes itself at home. The mouthfeel is like a Shins albums and a warm blanket wrapped around you. It is hella comfy.

D: Let’s just get right down to it. This beer has no abv present that I can detect. Well, lets clarify, it has an incredible warming heat that is just refreshing as the day is long: LET’S CALL TODAY THE VERNAL EQUINOX. Did I mess the season up? Moving o-

Start your day with this beer, see how many bothers you encounter. Post results.

Narrative: Those spelling bees weren’t gonna win themselves. Toshan Doshi knew this deep down. Somehow all those days on the road, the countless flashcards, the endless memorization of root words had taken a toll on his 11 year old, obviously Indian frame. Show after show, there he was, scoring some new obtuse study cards to drill into lines, take into his head and pass out fulfilled. He would wake up each morning feeling more empty than the last. Last night he went hard on some gladiolus and luxuriance and passed out shortly thereafter. But how long could he keep up with this hardcore lifestyle. His manager didn’t care for him, he just propped him up with more vocab lists every night. His publicist just wanted him to win win win. Ultimately old Toshan only had a single friend in this world, a teddy bear named- [deleted advanced 45 minutes] until he recovered his teddy [deleted, fast forward 34 minutes] until he realized he never needed the bear at all [deleted fast forward 14 minutes] and that’s how Toshan won the NATIONAL SPELLING BEE COMPLETELY ON HIS OWN.

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2006 Thomas Hardy’s Ale, Finally I Can Drink a Beer That Is Older Than My Clothes

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Everyone always gets an alerection when they talk about how old their Thomas Hardy’s is. It’s like all of a sudden sucking down old old ales is hot shit and everyone else missed the boat. Big ups to my homie Anthony for this bottle so we can see what the aleworld was like back in the days of dial-up internet (for the midwest.) Fear no more, I am rocking a 2006 in today’s review, back when your boyfriend still had frosted tips and retainers, shit was popping off. Let’s see if this little bottle delivers or, like Better Than Ezra, leaves me desperately wanting.

Man, 2006, what a fun year, wait, I am looking at the Wikipedia for 2006 and I literally remember none of this shit happening. A Final Fantasy game must have come out that year or something.

O’Hanlon’s Brewing Co. Ltd.
United Kingdom (England)
Old Ale | 11.90% ABV

A: Oh man, you know when tame old England (sans Brewdog) comes out swinging with an 11.9% old ale, shit is about to get real. The beer is completely flat and looks like Dr. Pepper that was left out during your 6th grade sleepover party. No lacing, no legs, no stems no seeds no sticks. You swirl it around and things don’t get much jazzier. It just sits there limp, sad, and swears that this never happens.

Maybe I am not old enough to fully enjoy this beer but, it makes things pretty difficult the next morning.

S: Mmm, that’s a damn fine bouquet, especially for a 6 year old. Well, you know what I mean. It has vanilla, aggro caramel, nice subtle bourbon presence, oak, and toasted marshmellow. It kinds reminds me of a sticky kettle corn with more of a butterscotch presence. Nice wafterburners on this Maverick.

T: This almost goes from O.G. Ale to quad in the way to pulls you gently to stone fruits, plum, currant, and raisins. I am thankful for the relatively small bottle size as this guy is a bit of a turn off after a while. I enjoy the panoply of fruits and sticky gooey campfire treats presented but, it is a bit much after 5 ounces. Maybe I need to put up with month after punishing month of depressing weather to really “get” the selling points of this UK gem but the taste gets to that point of like “ok, ok, enough already” of sticky sweetness like the hostess at Chilis.

I hate to push this bit incessantly but, things are almost always best enjoyed fresh. Ba dum tish. wakka wakka.

M: The mouthfeel has zero carbonation and a light stickiness that just hangs around like an officious gym partner that, while cloying, has a gentle aspect to it that you don’t outright hate. I dont think this will really improve with age and that fresh TH that I tried wasn’t really much better. You ever revisit a game that was bad fucking ass when it came out and then realized that you used to be content with crude polygons? Well, this is a beer from the tail end of the Ps2 era, if you know what I am saying. Go pop in Devil May Cry, tell me if it is still palatable. I will wait.

D: This is not exceptionally drinkable due to the sheer alcoholic content and sticky morass of saccharine notes that jumble up the mix. It is worth trying and showing off your alecock for cellar bragging rights but most people into beer won’t give a fuck if you have a 1996 TH because, like Aaliyah, age ain’t nothin but a number.

It doesn’t matter how old you are, if you were a boring jerk back then, well-

Narrative: “Listen Trevin, I am your agent and, quite frankly, I am your friend. At this point I think it might be time to give it up, seriously, I can’t spin you in different ways for 12 consecutive years, you’re…you’re too fucking old, Trevin.” Theodore Olsmly had changed his name to conform to Hollywood conceptions of name values, he had dyed his hair, undyed it, taken improv classes, unlearning improve classes, holistic acting, deconstructive scenework classes, and even melody workshops taught by the Spin Doctors: nothing worked. Even those gentle poets of Two Princes told him at the crest of 2008 that maybe a solid decade of annoying the shit out of audiences and producers alike, might signal a perfect time to bow out. Trevin refused to do so. He slammed the door of his shanty Burbank studio apartment and tossed on the Reality Bites soundtrack and paced the 405 square foot layout and devised a plan to start auditioning for the estranged older brother turned uncle roles that the writers had heretofore so obliviously overlooked.