Category Archives: beer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Hill Farmstead, What is Enlightenment? If not the Process of a Lager Being Lightened?

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Alright, I took a week off to go hit up Cabo to learn about the beer culture down there and I am back on my grizzy with something as far away from Cabo as it gets in the Western Hemisphere, some down home enlightenment in today’s post. What is the nature of enlightenment? Isn’t that the age where the oppression from a liturgical society was cast off? Didn’t it promote science and intellectual interchange and oppose superstition, intolerance and abuses in church and state. Other haters say “oh that shit went down about 1650 to 1700, it was sparked by philosophers Baruch Spinoza (1632–1677), John Locke (1632–1704), Pierre Bayle (1647–1706), physicist Isaac Newton (1643–1727), and philosopher Voltaire (1694–1778).” But fuck all that, today we figure out what enlightenment REALLY IS, for the haters.

Schopenhauer straight creepin on my Enlightenment. He just wants to Will that mouth up on this Representation.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Pale Ale (APA) | 5.40% ABV

A: Alright, let’s try to be impartial here, every one knows about my past love affair with this rural gemstone quarry turning out hop bombs and barrel blasters on the reg. But the beer appears directly to style and comfortably shoulders next to Zombie Dust and Hoppy Birthday with that beautiful clarity and foamy radiance that you have come to expect from infant bath time and amazing APAs. The lacing is substantial, it just gets everywhere like when slimer gets blasted on by a proton pack. The legs look nice but I think the time in the growler may have tamed it a bit so you can put that on my set, I GUESS.

At first I thought this beer was too complicated, but as I continued on, the nuances showed themselves and entirely new concerns arose.

S: There’s an amazing sweet citrus without a huge bitterness to the backend that just screams grapefruit, lemon rind, apricot, and pineapple jams. The pine and other harrowing aspects that nudge their way into APA’s is gone, thank god, so no mountainous shit ruins this experience, just you and a lovely fruit hoptail to enjoy at your leisure. Where was this beer when I was draining Modelos hardcore during the entire last week? Thousands of miles away? Oh ok, cool, just peeping out the scene.

T: The taste doesn’t go aggro on the hops or the fruit aspect. You open the door and see a nice compact edible arrangement of hops and fruit assiduously arranged on your doorstep with a nice bottle of water to refresh your palate. Enough equivocating and circumlocution: This beer is refreshing. It isn’t the depths of free press or a direct challenge to the sans culottes, but it washes away clean with a nice tinge of fruits of the Tropical Skittles variety, except not derived from sucrose, just pure pineapple, mango, guava goodness from hop oils. The whole finish washes away clean in more of a shallow pantheism than the full spectrum of intellectual depths of say, Heidegger, but who has ever found Being and Nothingness refreshing? Fucking no one.

When a brewery half asses something, you can tell immediately, such is not the case here.

M: The mouthfeel is crisp and clean, imparts a nice watery tone that transfers into a mild hoppy stickiness and before you know it, the pleasure is over and it is time for the tip. Again, this cannot be construed as a diss when it is brewed exactly to style and shows such extreme balance and punishing hoppiness like the first three Ninja Gaiden games. This is a real good beer and, for the style, def in my top 5 APAs, hell make it top 3, but I am trying to be fair and balanced here.

D: Does anyone remember when Ford released the Taurus SHO and shit got nuts real quick? You take a balanced base and then push it to the limits with amazing (Yamaha/Vermont) craftsmanship and here we are. I am trying to go half throttle not to drain this old chestnut instantly but that’s how these forays into Vermont always seem to go. As I type this, my growler is gone, and I still feel like i can go kayaking or play handball, and that’s how I know the APA is working, maximum flavor without the beastly DIPA withdrawals. If Ephraim is a 911 Turbo, this is Hill Farmstead’s Lotus Elise.

It’s the smooth comfort of a well-done pale ale that comforts in a softly aggressive manner.

Narrative: The local islanders did not want to cause alarm to N’thraiku’s parents, but it was clear that something was a bit off with the archipelago youth but at a certain point you just have to call it out. N’thra stood a stately 1.5m tall at his tenth birthday, however, his triceps bulged with cuts almost .5m around. He assiduously scampered up trees and claimed even the highest hanging fruit, beyond the dietary needs of the tribe. “N’thra! COME!” the village elder, K’traikai called. “N’th, you have shown great discipline, but, seriously, you look like a bent tuning fork, let’s calm the aggressive climbing down a bit, ok?” N’thra kicked some of the obsidian black sand in front of him and looked far in the distance to the dormant fire God for solace. “I mean, sure we all enjoy local treats but, you need to ratchet it back some, we have way more almendra than anyone can eat-” suddenly N’th reached and crushed a balata in his palm and swung like a child’s swing in between his massive arms. The message was delivered loud and clear, N’th was going to keep reaping fruit, getting jacked, and juicing; dietary habits be damned.

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Founder’s Cerise, Would a Cherry by any other name pop juice like this?

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Ok so let’s get one thing straight, Founders does stouts like no one’s business. Their IPA program is also very good. However, once the rough road of sours and wilds present acidic gravel, my limited slip palate differential just gets rocked so hard. So is this the best cherry beer I have ever tasted? Let me save the suspense, unless this is Cable Car Kriek, then fuck no, but my point is, this might not even come close to the mark…OR DOES IT?

If you walk into this expecting some majestic kriek experience, check your high hopes at the door and go meet the grenadine escort.

Founders, Cerise, Fruit Beer,
Michigan dropping elbows, 6.5% abv

A: This has a hue akin to a ruby red grapefruit juice, it is translucent with light reddish orange luminescence. The carbonation is swift and exits quickly, not unlike the time I went to see Pootie Tang, starring the inimitable Chris Rock.

This is a refreshing blast you might want to avoid.

S: This smells similar to a white zinfandel with cherry notes added to it. There are sweet sticky grenadine notes and a dryness that pangs of oakiness. I have my fingers crossed that this doesn’t go all ape shit and hit that fruit juice and cider tone. Often times, the fruit shoes are illfitting and they readily follow the Toucan Sam maxim of following one’s nose.

T: It begins with a sweet juicy note, cherries of course but with a lingering acidic sweetness similar to a grape juice. It is a bit too sweet for my tastes, not as oppressive as the New Glarus Belgian Red train wreck, but this is a currant fender bender. The dryness and wine notes offer a wine cooler reminiscence that reminds me a bit of red champagne. This is strange, but you enjoy it if only for the innovation, not unlike going to see a Ray Romano stand up comedy show.

The elements are all in place but the execution leaves something to be desired like a stupid fucking 15 year old with a $700 camera who posts shit on instagram.

M: The mouthfeel is dry but the overbearing sweetness just submarines the gains that the innovation and tartness makes. It is difficult to focus on the coating and mouthfeel when there’s this din of sticky madness going on. Sure I can try and write the next great American novel at Boomers! But it just seems wildly inefficient. This shit is just too wacky, cherries all up in my dome piece.

D: This is light and has pleasant carbonation but, the sweetness just pangs the conscience and I feel like I am drinking fruit roll ups and melted starburst. It doesn’t go so far as being as saccharine as the energy drink fold, but it is still cloying. As a result, this remains sticky icky ooh wee, the likes of which I do not wish to put into the air.

The moral that I learned is that you need to prepare for disappointment from your greatest hero.

Narrative: “I just can’t do this anymore, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Ted Langston hung his head in shame. “What do you mean you CAN’T DO IT? It’s the 1990’s, get with it TED! People are on board, SMALL WONDER IS A HUGE SUCCESS!” Ted spun small circles with the toe of his shoe and shook his head in a recalcitrant fashion. “No, V.I.C.I just doesn’t make any damn sense. You’ve taken my science fiction sit com and turned it into a sticky sweet mess. I mean, have you watch the intro? The father is sitting on the grass laughing, that’s not the face of a man who just developed a fully functioning android daughter.” The FOX board official wiped his face with the utmost solemnity. “We have so much riding on this, the love triangle, the adopted asian robot brother that we were going to integrate, you’re…you’re just gonna give up on Small Wonder, just like that?” Ted rubbed his palms together and stared at the plaque on the wall “Young Artist Award.” “I’ve vested too much in this, it began as something amazing, a great institution, but here we are, 4 seasons deep, things are just sticky sweet and messy, there’s a what, what are we doing now a CLONE robot who talks in non-monotone? This doesn’t make any damn sense, there’s too much goddamn nonsense in this show!” He banged his fist on the mahogany table and delivered the absolute shall to the executives. “Alright Ted, but how about in season five we don’t add the alternate dimension, the adopted kid, the prohibition timeline time machine, the love interest for every main character, or the very special episode where V.IC.I. learns about sexually transmitted diseases, will that make you stay?” Ted was not a tart berry to be picked and pressed, besides, he had a new project, Clarissa Explains it All, through which to expound his existential views.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Monk’s Cafe Flemish Sour Ale, An Old Review for Old Souls

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Hot damn, I wrote this review so long ago, I think I enjoyed this beer while watching the L.A. Rams crush the Los Angeles Raiders while listening to Spin Doctors on cas- you get the jist. A while ago. How my sour tastes have migrated, but this old gem is still a solid standby that deserves some mild affection, get you some.

Expert beer photos. Hire me for your wedding, bris, whatever.

Brouwerij Van Steenberge N.V.
Belgium
Flanders Oud Bruin | 5.50% ABV

A: Pours from the bottle with a mild head, no lacing, white with fast dissipation, thin and offwhite, eggshell even, the beer itself is a deep ruby brown, I enjoy it in the way that you want an Airhead when you haven’t had one in a while. It’s not like you pick up Airheads at the grocery store on the reg. but you know, a once in a while treat.

Ah a sweet nostalgic treat to remind you of days passed, a dead era of satisfaction with normal, readily accessible sours, back when you were cool but rude.

S: The smell makes you aware that fruit tannins and dark grapes and or currants and awaiting, and they are angry, they storm up your nostril not unlike an Al-Jazeera mob, giving your palate a warning shot for the tartness that they seek to impart

T: The front has a mild candy apple taste, not granny smith, sweet cherry flavor which mellows out to a sweeter candy finish, not tart, a bit like a lukewarm sour patch kid, only not in a disparaging way, like a high class sour patch kid with a monocle and a aplomb for references to Marcel Proust.

I am sure if you had enough of these, you could get into some crazy shit, look at me, i started with these gentle sours, now I huff paint down by the overpass.

M: the carbonation doesnt distract from the sweetness, the sour patch kid lets the bubbles pass like an elevator with unsavory folks exiting, then it is all sweet business. The sour is a secondary effect, the sweet is much more pronounced, it is more “bake sale mom” than “competitive track home housewife.”

D: Well what do you want from your beer? you want to be classy? pull out 11 oz bottles and show people your refined tastes? Ok well, this will do that but I cant seriously see anyone drinking a solid 4 pack of these. It’s kinda like a Lambic’s older brother who got a crew cut and a bomber jacket. You know deep down he’s still sweet, but that Tears for Fears patch just shows you he has more bite than he lets on.

This beer gives me so many feels of old times.

Narrative: These internet dating mixers are so lame, I am above this, but, if they only would give me a chance. I know on the outside I look like a beer, same old amber bottle they are used to, but inside i have so much character and personality, I am downright sweet. Oh great, look, they go for a strong DIRTY martini, I am here for them, my Jdate account get no hits…I TASTE LIKE CHERRY AND GIVE SWEET KISSES. Nice beers finish last, even my outside just says SOUR SOUR SOUR, great, now my belgium mom is gonna be all on my case about this, first my Kriek brother, now I just will sit around reading about all these other lowbrow Belgium strong ales who pull all the chicks. I dont need this, I need a girl who likes ME FOR ME, not because I look like Leona- OH HEY I DO WATCH DEXTER! No, don’t pick up that ZIMA fuuuu-

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

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

A lil 14 on 14 action, NSFW.

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

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

Cuddle up for some chocolatey bourbon snugs.

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

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

Seems legit.

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

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

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

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

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Deschutes Black Butte XXIII, Porters Don’t Get Much More Imperial Than This

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I never really know how to straddle these imperial porters. Regular porters are often so far away in scope and execution, but imperial stouts are completely different beasts altogether. Suffice it to say, I enjoy this style a ton when they are executed well, but if it’s too big, it eats shit like a Korean gymnast. Lucky for us, this one sticks the landing, sticks it so hard.

Droppin twanky tres on em.

Deschutes xxiii Black Butte Imperial Porter 10.5% abv

A: This has a slippery BP black with mild wateriness and deep amber hues, great carbonation and a fantastic presentation. The legs do not show through that well and if this is an imperial porter, it’s a pretty fucking powerful empire because the maltiness toes the line into a stout-tranny, er, you know what I mean.

I won’t say I am afraid of this beer, but it is capable of some dangerous shit.

S: There is an orange rind smell with licorice light and smokiness. It smells amazing. This is one of the most aromatic porters that I have ever encountered and I still get jazzed every time someone busts one of these out. You get some nice vanilla, oak, and light waft of alcohol.

T; There is a great slickness with a little juniper herbal finish to it. The front is similar to dark chocolate notes but the mouthfeel is distinctly porter not stout. It has a finishing dryness with a lingering sweetness. Just fantastic all around on the tastey sesh. I really enjoy the interesting venn diagram that it creates between stouts and porters in that it is still distinctly huge and mildly watery, relative to an imperial stout, but still maintains its character very well. It’s the difference between a chocolate milkshake and some gourmet Yoohoo. Feel me?

There’s a bit of gentle lightness in this deep darkness that delivers the sweetness to your facehole.

M: The coating is huge, probably the thickest porter that I have encountered. This easily gives Victory at Sea a run for its money. I want more and alas, I cannot obtain it that easily after the run is done. I would stack this right next to Birth of Tragedy, albeit below it as a fine example of a beastly porter that delivers harder than a Ramen courier.

D: This is a split ticket decision. On one hand you have a big foamy, filling, high abv porter that imparts considerable dryness. On the other hand, it is so well balanced and delicious, you could drink this into a stupor. Ultimately I will side with the party that supports consuming delicious things at length. If you have soft little hands and a light stride, sure, have an 8oz taster and move on. The rest of us will engage in a bacchanalian festival of porters and rejoicing.

This is deep and dark but menacing at the same time.

Narrative: Mocha stared knowingly at the horizon, sensing a storm was coming. Her penguin bretheren were too busy diving for squid in the shallows to pay attention. However, deep in Mocha’s soul she felt that insightful knowledge, that looming storm. They would chastise her, call her serious and forlorn and continue with their gallivanting. Day by day the temperatures were steadily rising and no one seemed to care. Sage old Mocha wiped her brow and pecked at the shallow pools. No one believed her when she predicated the great migration, no one trusted her when she foresaw the epic enclosure and flock partition, but now, here they were, in the Cleveland Zoo, and things were getting worse. Some Browns fans had showed up to the habitat and were throwing pork rinds into the water. Their jowls shook violently as they guffawed at the penguins splashing playfully. Mocha lowered her gaze at these overweight humans and noted, “mom’s gonna fix it all soon, mom’s gonna drown us set back to the way it oughta be.”

0

10 Barrel S1nist0r Black Ale, Soop3r L33Tz 4L3z !!11!!!!

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SrslY S1nisT0rzzz!!!! guize srsly.

10 Barrel Brewing Co.
Oregon, United States
American Black ale Ale | 5.40% ABV

A: This appears like a regular stout with the mild khaki carbonation, deep brown/blackish hues and nice malty roasted character. But OH WAIT, this old chestnut where we call something a black ale so the consumer has no fucking clue what to expect. Hop bomb? Chocolate sex? Smokey ballsack? Who knows, it’s fucking black ale, that’s like how a sorority girl orders a beer, by color, shit tells me nothing about what is inside. Uinta made this same mistake on an incredible imperial stout and I feel bad that they did, Labyrinth was tits up. Anyway, nice foamy character and comes off like a watery porter.

Mashing so hard on a thin black ale not unlike a baby otter.

S: The nose has a very light smokiness to it with a mild sweetness. A bit watery, nothing to lose your mind over. A solid beer depending on how much you pay for it. I got this as an extra so who knows if this beer goes balls to the wall on price or if it nestles up against Green Flash and Lagunitas in the deals bin.

T: The taste is thin and refreshing with an almond sweetness to it. There’s a very faint bit of milkiness and maple syrup but the palate is so thin you don’t really have time to focus on it. There’s a good balance to it with some mild bittering. The hops present a cocoa dryness that rounds it out nicely.

If a kennel just said “Black dog” for adoption, I would be satisfied for this one.

M: This is very thin but it doesn’t feel like it came up short, it feels intentional, and that somehow makes it ok. The lacing is fantastic, but the coating is relatively minimal, which is a bit anomalous. Again, not disappointing though. I always feel like when someone presents a black ale, it is a genre that is so amorphous it is tough to really determine what you are about to get. Sometimes you get an imperial stout monster like Labyrinth, other times you get this dapper gentleperson. Who can ever tell. Anyway, not even mad tho, it was decent but nothing I would keep a picture of in my military footlocker. You know it would just be getting popped by every other dude in Oregon.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the color is the only thing that might be offputting to people. It is a strange hybrid that brings a bit of IPA to the table and a bit of Stout in the mix. Overall, pretty solid beer and I would recommend a bomber or two to any willing participant.

Not sure what their intent was with this one.

Narrative: The hackneyed carriage clipped along steadily over the cobblestone streets and the slick London night was further obfuscated by misty clouds. Sir Grimsly peered at his silver pocket watch and sighed at how long the opera had taken. His finely tailored suit of rich velvet fit precisely and his jet black hair was slicked with a fragrant pomade. “Carlton, please, slow a bit!” He called to the carriage driver. He lifted the lacy ebony curtain and looked out into the dark night and noticed a single cat, staring intently upon the carriage as it slid to a stop. The cat peered knowingly and its obsidian coat shined in the night. It appeared to nod and signal to the magistrate. With a blink it disappeared. Sir Grimsley looked up and noted the mandate from today’s proceedings laying on the adjacent seat, unexecuted. With a forceful sigh, Sir Grimsley signed the stay of execution and set the prisoner free. The night shone with a furious depth, the slick streets ploshed with knowing applause.

2

Baird / Ishii / Stone Japanese Green Tea IPA, A Pretty Core Foreign Exchange sTEAdent

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Maybe I just don’t get it, but why does Stone need to collaborate with so many fucking people on each collaboration brew? Three breweries at once? Four? What did Ishii do for this one? Select the Tea in the online cart? Anyway, so here’s another crazy Stone threesome. Their standard IPA offerings are decent and a gentle hand of reprieve at B.J.’s so let’s see if this ups the ante into an axis of tea meets hops domination.

Time to play that classic game where you point out something in the background of my picture and make a clever quip about the vintage or rarity. Ah, never gets old.

Stone Brewing Co.
California, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 9.20% ABV

A: Bright orange huges with gold tones at the edges. There is minimal lacing and moderate carbonation. No middle carbonation. The legs aren’t broken, but they hobble along with an antalgic limp. This literally looks almost identical to Ruination, not that it’s a bad thing, but you figure with three entire breweries on deck, shit would get mixed up a little bit.

With several small elements in play, you can accomplish big things.

S: Big hop nose to it with citra and Amarillo, grapefruit rind and lemon zest. Lots of herbal backing but predominately Pliny/Sculpin-esque juiciness. Really great smell to this. It is akin to a refined Ruination, man, really wearing out that analogy here aren’t we? I don’t get much tea and I drank this crazy fresh.

T: There is a slight juiciness but a sharp crispness to it on the herbal note. It isn’t quite pine but it has a distinct grassiness to it. The tea notes are very faint but present. If the taste stuck to the aromatic lines it would have been exceptional, however, it is a bit divergent once you actually taste it. I imagine the board meeting being something like Stone letting them know that they had plans to put tea in a Stone IPA/Ruination cuvee and Baird and Ishii would be allowed to toss some tea in the boil.

Impressive. (C:/run_notracist.exe)

M: The mouthfeel is thin and crisp, on point with the style and very reminiscent of the regular Stone IPA with less maltiness. Hardly any coating is present but that is a good thing given the juicy and herbal notes. If a huge malt backbone were present it would be distracting, but then maybe this would be that hipster darjeeling treat that I was anticipating.

D: This is an exceptionally drinkable beer, with the proviso that you must enjoy the herbal notes going on. If the grassy bite does not turn you away, this could easily become your session beer. The high abv is not noticeable at all and leaves nothing to be desired for back to back drinking. Easily the best part of this beer, but I drank this like 9 months ago or something so it WOULD PRLY BE A SHELL OF ITS FERMER SELF.

OMG. TEA AND HOPS IN A- wait, this is almost just a regular DIPA. Sealion remains unimpressed.

Narrative: The rocking of the vessel in the Atlantic was rhythmic at times, and maddening at others. Cameron Brackish wondered if his profession was a bit out of place in this modern bustling economy, however, that blast of crisp ocean spray in his face won him over more so than any woman ever could. “Sir! The cargo of Darjeeling has come unfastened, I-” Mr. Brackish threw up a single threadbare palm and deftly gripped the thick rope and descended into the galley to inspect the tea shipment. There was the stank odor of sopping wet tea leaves, mixing with the misty air, creating a chokingly herbal intoxicating air. “Calibrate the GPS to embrace all headwinds!” He called to his first mate. Life was hard when you refused to embrace modern technology and embraced antiquated professions. “WE NEED TO GET THIS EARL GREY TO INDIAN PORTS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!” It certainly was no tea party.