We took the new Hashbox munchies from Jack in the Box and did a Hashizontal with beers from Ale Apothecary and Skookum. The result was a mixed ferm we never intended.
We took the new Hashbox munchies from Jack in the Box and did a Hashizontal with beers from Ale Apothecary and Skookum. The result was a mixed ferm we never intended.
In a beer scene increasingly dominated by monoculture acid bombs, trubtastic slurrycans, and flabby batterwater, many iconic beers have fallen by the wayside. New palates have neither the time nor attention span for these outdated beers from the past. These beers represent the educational arc that many beer enthusiasts would imbibe on their way to honing their palate. We now exist in an instaRone paradigm, where learning is passe and not knowing is vulnerability. Now the beer journey begins and ends with a 16% double barrel pastry stout and new beer palates don a jaunty expert cap and instantly dislocate their rotator cuff patting themselves on the back.
As a result, these are the top 10 beers that New Money palates will never drink:
Brassiere D’Orval – Orval
Good luck trying to get someone from the 2017 BJCP class to open one of these. A Belgian beer that isn’t lambic hypewater? That will nerf your IG engagement. Once you tell them it is also a pale ale, watch their Supreme bucket hat sink lower as they try to reconcile why they would drink this classic, genre-defining beer, let alone age one.
Hair of the Dog – Adam
A hoppy old ale that isn’t even barrel aged? “So it’s like, J Wakefield Wilderness in Paradise? Where that fruit at tho?” They will inquire. This classic beer from the 90’s is akin to dusting off a Zip Disk and explaining that “AT THE TIME 100mb was quite a lot!” The layers flavors of tobacco and caramel are an old sage pressing a Zune into their palm and attempting to explain a pre-Wakefield existence.
Brouwerij van Steenberge – Gulden draak
If you thought getting someone who listens to Lil Xan to drink a BPA was hard, wait until you foist a Belgian Dark Triple on their unwilling palates. The nuance of a boozy ester-driven beer will confuse and disorient someone if LANGST was the closest thing they have enjoyed. Fold your arms and watch them start playing Fortnite on Switch as you try to explain how the beer is refermented with Bordeaux wine yeast. It’s too late, they’re recording a Music.ly lip synching Charlie Puth while chugging some Other Half cans. You’ve lost them.
Alesmith – Old Numbskull
A hoppy barleywine: your task is futile from the beginning. Modern palates want a 12 plato finishing “barleywine” that drinks like a caramel frap stout. It better be pitch black and taste like liquid turbinado sugar. Worse still, you’ll be subject to the tired refrain of “AGED IPAS ARE BARLEYWINES LOLOL TROOF #MOOD” as the new money ticker cackles in his Yeezy Boosts having employed a timeworn bit of levity passed down to him on high.
Fantome – Saison
A neophyte beer nerd will wince at Fantome saison and wonder what went so wrong because the pH isn’t even below 3.0. You will have to turn off CrunchyRoll and try to explain how esters are important and why the bottle is green. It’s too late, they don’t want to hear about the Ghost, they have already logged into Discord.
De Dolle – Oerbier
“This is a strong dark ale? It’s only 9.5%” they will scoff in their Diamond Supply Co. hoodie and dump the 2oz pour from a filthy taster glass. This beer that shaped so many intersubjective notions about aged beer and nuanced “high gravity” ales will not be compelling to anyone who grew up watching Ed Edd and Eddie. They will expertly describe this as an IMPERIAL RED on Untappd and drop a hot 120 character review before firing up Soundcloud and cracking some Hoof Hearted cans.
Great Lakes Brewing Company – Edmund Fitzgerald
One look at a “porter” and that paper thin abv and you already lost the modern consumer. What is even the point when porters are supposed to be at least 12%+ abv and component barrel aged. A nuevo dinero palate will likely correct you and note that this beer is actually a black IPA, another style they do not drink. The final nail will be the realization that this is sold in six packs, the death knell for any neo-cicerone hype beast who thrives on loss. “Mults drive secondary down bc then ppl have more products to flip, the 1pp stay on that stable gain”
BFM – Abbaye De Saint Bon-Chien
First, attempt to explain what a Biere de Garde is. Second, watch them recoil when you explain that $22.00 used to be an “expensive” beer. Finally, break down that this is a beer for aging and they will respond by noting that razzle slot values drop over time. It will be a complete waste of your time to engage someone with a “sour” beer that doesn’t fully recede the gumline and compel twitching along the orbital socket.
Bassiere Du Di Ciel – Peche Mortel
The countenance of that jejune face will slide when the instaRone realizes that this coffee stout is not even barrel aged. NO KOPI LUWAK? NO GEISHA? He will protest as though he knows something about underlying coffee roasts. Watch this sad communications major drop to the knees of his Rag and Bone joggers when he sees this beer is only 9.5% abv, a session stout, a waste of Tumblr space.
Russian River Brewing Company – Consecration
At first when you mention “barrel aged sour” a new money floccboi will be all on board, pulling hard on that dual coil vape talking about these sick kettle sour berliners with unfermented fruit puree that his boy Trevin bought that blew up in his Scion TC. Then when you note that this hits shelves, the sadness will sink in. What’s even the point if other beta casuals have tasted it? You’ll likely be met with a rejoinder of “Honestly, I don’t fuck with Dark Sours ever since Pulling Nails 6 brah.” Any attempts at explaining the currant and pedio interplay will be drowned out by tattered Beats by Dre headphones pumping an Alesso playlist.
The upshot of the dystopian reality of dudes getting chondromalacia waiting for DDH trubcans is: things can steadily improve, breweries will continue to craft nuanced, amazing beers that none of this segment will ever drink. I for one welcome our new Razzle overlords.
Man this single IPA has been ruining my life for upwards of three years. I remember this popped hot on the scene with twin desert eagles drawn back in 2012 just popping .50 shells into the trade boards, fucking with trade values like JadaKiss and D block. So after 2 and a half years I finally landed a growler of this elusive draft only quacker. Let’s see if other breweries have caught up with this world class peep in the intervening years.
New England Brewing Company
Single IPA, not doubles, no trips, 6.2% abv
A: This might have been revolutionary back when people were getting their BJ’s certified in 2012 and having a turbid IPA would DQ you like a blizzard. These days this is pretty legit and tame by modern standards since tired hands and Horny Trooplers make some of the slurriest yeasties this side of the game. It has substantial carb and it is quick to put two nines on your back like Wayne Gretzky.
S: This is an explosion of tropical scents, Donald Duck orange juice, tangerine rind, dry lingering citra aspects like a more ballerer Zombie Dust that doesn’t fade days after packaging. Really impressive and reminds me of a less Nelsony Pupil/Nelson. YAMEEN.
T: This follows the citrus profile in a substantial way, oily and sticky hops create a melange of grapefruit and pineapple that pulls the E brake and J turns into a resin alley. The finish has nothing akin to the opener, like that movie Inherent Vice. It closes with this aserose and pine, a resonant conifer on the swallow. WHERE DID THIS DOUGLAS FIR COME FROM.
M: I get surprisingly little duck on the mouthfeel, I wonder if they just dry hopped with infant ducks or if it was supposed to be in the boil. I can imagine the production costs would go through the roof, defending this against PETA, tossing live freshly hatched chicks directly into 150 degree sparge water. The mouthfeel closes dry thanks to the residual tufts of feathers and poached bills and tiny duck feet. It is exceedingly dry and oily, as is to be expected with a carnivorous IPA.
D: All duck jokes aside, this shit is so so so crushable. I drank this entire growler when I wrote that 1200 word 18th street sophmore saison review and got all manner of faded. I told my NEBCO hookup that a 32 ounce would be sufficient and just like getting pegged: BOY WAS I FUCKING WRONG. You could crush this all day while whipping up baking soda on a Foreman Grill. Someone needs to explain to me why they still bother canning that horrendous Sea Hag when this exists? Take all the money from G-BOT, cancel it, divert all funds into making nothing but this beer. No satire here, I am serious this is top tier, area dominating IPA without competition in the segment, unless Vermont starts flexing hard in the yard. This trades for absurd shit, not unlike Citra, and it is well worth it. I give this 9 out of 10 duck eggs.
Today we have a Hoarders only bottle that people were writing fanficiton about all year, just waiting for this banger to drop. All fucking year we witnessed other west coast breweries parade out reasonable ABV wild ales, fruited goses, fruited berliners, DOUBLE FRUITED sours. Each impatient dipshit in the Hoarders crew longingly shook a snowglobe and waited and waited for this beer to drop. FINALLY WORD CAME! HS ballers would get a single. bottle. with their membership. To prevent people flipping over Priuses in the streets of Placentia, another bottle was available for purchase. A single. bottle. The anticipation ran high and, with a crisp fulfilling base beer, WHAT COULD GO WRONG? Well strap yourself into that sex swing and prepare for that mango to get plenty bruised in today’s review.
The Bruery, Placentia
3.2% abv, Berliner with Mango
A: This is a messy, turbid affair that wears the mango guts proudly like an ornate sash of pulp and frothy flotsam. It isn’t particularly beautiful, but regular old Hotty didnt have a pilates body either. The carb exits almost upon inception, a wry tip of the hat as if to say “we lived in the bottle for long enough as it is, good luck with this one, Mango Hotty is a hot mess.” There is no lacing, no cling, just you and this second runnings from the Jamba Juice blender. A Petite Smootheeiere`
S: The nose is undeniably mango, tropical life savers, Haribo peach rings, yes yes, that is all present. Apricot Jolly Rancher even? Sure. The problem is not within the mango funzone, it is within the dark undercurrent of odd happenings that clearly were not invited and are stretching the expanse of a +1 roster. You get a sort of lemon meringue, alright not standard but, wait is that egg? Hold on, sulphur? Detonated fireworks? WHO LET THESE INTO THIS HERETOFORE AMAZING BEVERAGE? The whole thing closes with a sort of “bottle shock” note that makes it seem like, despite waiting so long to release this bottle, the March 31 pickup date pushed this to be released too soon. And DDB, like a stupid asshole wants to have the first review up, so I opened mine far too soon. Let’s move on.
T: Things continue to get weird from here on in, theres some apricot fruit leather and a brackish spray like riding a clementine orca over a sea of Donald Duck Orange Juice EVERYTHING IS AMAZING- until you swallow. The clinging pulpy barbs leave an odd “Bubbilicious chewed way too long” sort of cling and a waxiness like those opaque candy bottles with juice inside of them. Something just seems, not quite right. It isn’t exactly sick or ropey or phenolic, none of that, but it feels kinda like I am sipping a molten mango Yankee Candle. The whole affair is circumspect and breaches the expectations of “Yeah I love Hottenroth, just put mango in that shit, alright, let’s get this done.”
M: This is crushable and drinks like an odd variant of Vitamin Water. It is crackly, crisp and dry, leaves a tannic presence along the gumline and leaves nothing to be desired in this realm. It never becomes too acidic or sweet and cloying. The weird eggy taste along the back palate is strange and I can’t come up with a reasonable explanation for it, if you like Mango Oikos Greek Yogurt, you will love this untameable Rancor.
D: I can’t pretend to know what happened here. This seemed like a simple enough task but things just did not work out as expected. You take your Civic Si in for a new timing belt, suddenly it has a wet fogger system and isnt street legal and runs in a less than satisfactory fashion. Hottenroth is simple as shit and people love it. Adding mango to this should have been a plug and play affair but this thing has spoilers and sideskirts and all manner of shit that seems to have overly complicated the whole execution. This is by no means a bad beer, it isn’t a drainpour, and if you split it at a massive Indiana backyard share the untappd single digit reviews would rain like Phoenician arrows. It is a disappointment though, given the high hopes, delays, anticipation and fanciful imagination of beer nerds everywhere. Perhaps the promise of unbridled deliciousness were unfair from the inception, maybe Trevor put out way too many fucking tasty De Garde BU’s and people just assumed this would be the same way. I don’t know, it is Friday don’t you have better things to do than read this shit? It has to be 25 cent wing night SOMEWHERE.
SHAMELESS APOLOGIST SIGNING OFF.
D.C. has DC Brau and several noteworthy beer PLACES, but aside from the Hardywood contingency is solidly RVA. Bluejacket emerged and seemed like a hot contender but nothing has really set the region’s nuva rings ablaze. Now we have RIGHT PROPER, a place to get Howard University students swerved. But is it the regional hegemony that can affect the beer world at large? ARE THEY THAT FYCKING POWERFUL? Let’s reach across the aisle in today’s review
Right Proper Brewing, Washington DC
3.2% Berliner, dry hopped with citra and cascade
A: This beer looks beyond yellow into a type of neon radiant yellow 5/mountain dew territory. It is so faint that is becomes radioactive like wheaty isotopes banging around the glass, emitting substantial carb. It honestly looks like someone took Gatorade and force carbed it, and I have no fucking problem with that at all. Put this in a waterbottle for your big mountain bike ride, or whatever michelob ultra drinkers do. This is like 80 calories a glass, drink it while you deliver UPS boxes on your route, who cares.
S: This is a touch salty, wheat grist, ironically for all the hoppy promises, the most prominent element is a sort of clean alkaline chalkiness/salinity and a tangerine finish. Again, this just hits like a radiant sports drink that seems to want to cure the hangover that you haven’t even earned yet. THIS IS A FORWARD LOOKING BEER, trying to keep you from watching entire Netflix seasons on Sundays. I can applaud that.
T: This is bready for a fleeting moment and then kicks in the acidity in a real way, lemon and yuzu, key lime and a creamy finish that crackles out of existence like a genie entering a lamp. It is over so fast you take another huge sip just to grasp at fragments that speed down your throat, each gulp becoming successively more tart and dry. You get caught in this feedback loop where you keep taking bigger gulps chasing the lemon dragon to get a “real” taste but its so thin you are constantly eluded. I am ok with that, this does the opposite of overstaying its welcome.
M: This is dry, acidic, and works with successive swallows to take a run on your molars but never quite brings hard hits. The whole thing feels like an absence of being, the consumption of beer and fleeting sensations with nothing to grip definitively into beyond light acidity and a juicy finish that crackles like Fundip and disappears. It doesn’t pull that Golden Road shit where its intensely acidic, it is only a touch too tart for the style and the De Garde acidity seems unreasonable by contrast. You can drill this without reprisal and it would almost be a full on challenge to get meaningfully drunk on this because you are perpetually hydrating while seeking inebriation. The sisyphean chase that is ever fulfilling.
D: If you couldn’t figure this out, it is endlessly drinkable in the way that Candy Crush is endlessly playable, but both ultimately make you feel a touch empty and ashamed of yourself. You kill an whole 2 liter of this and then look around your life in calm sobriety, none of that laundry got done and you are still moderately sober. Actually, this is a perfect beer to get your life back together because no responsibility or self control is needed. Go HAM, try to get yourself drunk, if you come from a pedigree of Kuhnhenn and Bruery tier ABV, this wont put a dent in your blast shields around your liver. Maybe you dont need to eat Totino’s pizza rolls at 3am on a weeknight. LIFE IS A GAMBLE.