Blue Lobster Ragged Neck Rye, Fedex Getting My Porter Straight Shaken Ragged

August 28, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright we handled that Treehouse shit earlier, we hit up HF gems on the reg, but what about neglected ass New Hampshire? Don’t they get any love in the beer spectrum? Well this is kinda a hyrbid of sorts since one of the Blue Lobster brewers, David Salkolosowklsky, used to work at Hill Farmstead. The entire region is just whipping up game and pushing cream in the trap. Some people’s jimmies are still steel traps for regular, non-BA porters. WELL THEY NEED TO GET PUT UP ON GAME. Let’s see if this is some Funky Buddha porter steeze or a weak ass Shipyard offering in today’s review.

Cross-country journey and it was still excited to see me. Beer you my only fren.

Blue Lobster Brewing Company
New Hampshire, United States
American Porter | 7.40% ABV

A: This looks phenomenal and keeps the carbonation just flowing and billowing like chocolate mousse from the jump. The cling and lacing is nice, residual malts just streaking the glass like chocolate milk tatties in the shower room. You tip up for that splishy splashy light body that breaks out cola thin, shooting that bubble up from below like a darker Miley Cyrus, but far cleaner in execution.

This porter is a different kind of uplifting, but I like it.

S: This has a fantastic almond tannic presence that lends a distinct rye crackliness that almost reminds me of cracked black pepper mixed with a baker’s chocolate hand you can hold while skipping through the gentle single porter world full of robust choices. Very little if any smoke to this, more like scorched coffee grounds for those of you that weigh their water before brewing LIKE LITTLE BITCHES. The dark bready aspect is a crackly lil gem that reminds me quite a bit of a thinner, more angry version of Everett. Everyone’s porter recipe seems to be jacked from somewhere.

T: This extends the olfactory and again is a compeltely dry affair with a roasty first foot that steps in a puddle of 85% cocoa that balances shit out and boosts that drinkability hardcore like a Terran Stimpack. The Abv is laughable and lies in wait with the shiv under your liver’s bunk ready to put in work. This isn’t the most complex beer in its rye forward, dark bread, thin execution; but that’s ok. It could use a bit more chocolate malts to boost a sweetness to balance out the woody aspects of this beer but some people would tell me to suck on my own tits because that is how they like their porters. Agree to suck on one’s own tits, respectively.

Whenever I try a really good porter I WANT TO GIVE IT TO EVERYONE.

M: This is thin and the light dryness from the rye doesn’t make this a cloying affair like say, Smoking Wood from the Bruery. It reminds me of the bad seed twin brother of Everett. It is more menacing, drier, less sweet, and just doesn’t seem to give a fuck about you. This is the Everett twin that does sick burnouts, fingerbangs chicks in 9th grade, has slicked back hair, takes dixpix and is all around just a more pissed off porter. Some tickers like that kinda role model, who am I to intervene?

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and, even more so than Everett in some respects. The sweetness is absent and so you get roast and rye to push you along this khaki foamy log ride. If you don’t like that, then you will drink faster, if you do, you will swallow harder for those dry bready pumpernickel notes. Either way the growler is gonna be drained and you will have to drive your kids to school drunk. Good job, parent of the year.

Some porters are on a whole different level of badassness.

Narrative: Solvang was a Danish City known for its sunny fields. Well to be more accurate, Solvang was a central California city, founded by Danish people, currently populated by Mexicans. The little city of 5,000 was famed for its rye harvests year in and year out, travelers would come from miles around to sample the scratchy dry wheat and enjoy the dark loaves of bread sold by the street vendors. The teeming masses from San Luis Obispo would watch the migrant workers toil to reap the crop annually, never thinking to contribute to their efforts in a meaningful way, or contemplate their crippling wages. It was easier just to buy some Danish chocolate and some plastic Viking costume for the misbehaving children. One of the gems of Solvang that none of the tourist seemed to appreciate was Mission Santa Ynes, which sat right next to the fake Danish village. The stoic congregation would pray and eat rye Eucharist, looking solemnly on the obese masses enjoying funnel cakes. Many would overlook the real splendor of the town, its agrarian roots, deep rye beds, incredible chocolate; they would listen to 2 Chainz CDs and buy Danish wares made in China. Some people just don’t want to actually travel; don’t actually want nice things.

Narke 2007 Kaggen! Stormaktsporter AND Konjaks! Stormaktsporter, Two Wales; One Liver.

August 19, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Back when the world was at peace, before the Nanomachines, before Skynet went global and the purity crystal was shattered into 8 fragments each guarded by an Eidolon guardian, there was something called the top 100.

In this top 100, were a series of sacred and profane images scrawled for admiration and cool reverence by the awkward prototypical beer nerd masses. Back when RB/BT/BA/TBS/RBT were orange groves sown by the tillage of honest serfs, there were walez. One of the most elusive in those provincial days was Kaggen and its wayward brethren, KONJAKS. To say that these beers are rare or sought out would be like saying that Sasha Grey has inspired a few erections on middle school sick days. Notwithstanding, if you feel like being nostalgic, go read my review of REGULAR ASS STORMAKTSPORTER HERE

Alright, enough pageantry, let’s get down to fucking business and find out which whale gots the most blubberers.

Swedish waels don’t deserve Midwest pours.

Regular Ass Kaggen!

Närke Kulturbryggeri
Sweden
Russian Imperial Stout | 10.00% ABV
The cask matured version of Stormaktsporter.

Narke Konjaks! (Cognac Barrel Aged)
Russian Imperial Stout | 9.50% ABV
Cognac Barrel Aged Stormy (no shit)

Appearance:

Kaggen: This pours a splish splashy cola brown that is black at the center. It is not an inky affair but carries that dark profile with a frothy khaki head that is impressive for 6 years of small format repression. The cling is nothing too intense and the lacing is gentle with a tiny clear sheet like when you strike a child with a book and watch the tears cascade gently.

Konjaxxxx: This looks almost identical, for obvious reasons but put forth a little bit more liveliness to the lacing and carbonation. If Kaggen is the reluctant friend, this is the drunk girl who at the moment is excited to go back to your studio apartment. These interactions are fleeting, savor them.

Winrar: Tie, they seriously look fucking identical. What the fuck is wrong with you?

At a certain point, when you slay two WW ticks at the same damn time, the butthurt becomes infinite to other sad pandas

SMELLINGS:

Kaggen: This might be one of the best olfactory stouts that I have come across in my entire life. There is a light coffee aspect with molasses, toasted almonds, honey, brown sugar, an oaky resonance that fades into a nice roast. This reminds me of a sweeter Parabola b1 with a higher emphasis on honey legs with zero abv. I hate loading on adjectives like a fucking asshole but they are seriously there. I guess I can just staple my nutsack to the sides of my thighs like a sugar glider if you don’t believe me.

Konjakson jackson: This is a whole different bag, in an insane NeoGeo 16bit port to console sort of way. This is unquestionably more ambitious and sets forth everything that Kaggen does but THEN FUCKING PILES ON MORE. You ever go to a frozen yogurt place and just go way overboard on toppings and find yourself plowing through all this conflicting shit like Peanut Butter cups with raspberries, brownie bites with Lychee, its a complete clusterfuck. You get smoke first and foremost, like a Duraflame log dipped in brownie batter then lit on fire with Cognac. The wood is present and the sweetness comes around like a scorched Nestle Tollhouse cookie. Sweet and smoke and indian burns on your dick all at once. It is just too much.

WINRAR Smell: Kaggen, times a billion, since forever until always.

When I popped both bottles, shit got real, things became tumescent.

TASTES NOTINGS:

Kaggen: God damn it, those efficient ass Swedes just made a compact deadly weapon of stout destruction. It is clean and pure in execution, extending the cola, almond, bakers chocolate, truffle, tootsie roll but imparting a subtle barrel character and absolutely zero abv. The sweetness makes this drink like Edmund Fitzgerald, and it only gets better at higher temps. Worth the hype completely and frustratingly so.

Konjacksing off: This is actually a really phenomenal beer to drink, despite the fucking menagerie on the nose. This reminds me of Bar Fly went and fucked Czar Jack and their little spawn baby was left in the nordic plain to develop. It is lightly smokey but lacking that red wine character from Bar Fly. The sweetness is unquestionably European in execution and sets forth this soft sticky caramel and mallowfoam all set against this toasty campfire backdrop. If you feel like having a great campout beer while being molested by your youth pastor, this would be it. Whales and psyche treatment bills, hand in hand.

Winner: This one is actually really tough because Konjacking off felt so good, but a little wrong. I still have to give it to the OG Kaggen, it’s like Rosie O’ Donnell at a bisexual bridal shower. It deeeeeeeeeeeed it.

“You alienate normal beer drinkers and make fun of people who get excited to drink Woot stout-“

Mouthfeelings:

Kaggen: This is the Yoshi of the Mariokart stout world in that it is innoculous, gentle, precise, hits the marks you want, doesn’t go overboard and keeps things ratchet enough to be trill throughout. The sweetness lingers but not like something from Southern Tier/DerkLerd. The roast is gentle but doesnt dry you the fuck out like Darkness. The barrel is restrained and doesn’t pound your face like BBpt5. It is tough to write notes on a beer that is so elegant and reined in execution. The 8oz bottle is such a kick in the dick because I only want more. Of this beer, not kicks to the dick.

Kernjerks: This is actually more interesting on this front than Kaggen because it is so damn sticky and sweet. The smokiness leaves a little bit of drying but the real show it the sweet toffee brittle and oak that lingers for days on your gumline, just making you wish you had dental insurance you poor fuck. The finish of caramel with tobacco sounds gross but it is delicious as fuck if only because I can’t think of anything similar to this.

WINZIPRAR: Konjaks! For reals, the mouthfeel was slick and sticky, smokey and sweet; fucking awesome.

Slay two white whales, only 1 pint drunk, now who we fuckin?

OVERALLS (OSHKOSH DRINKABILITY)

Kaggen: This is easily one of the three best stouts that I have ever had in my life. I cannot honestly think of valid areas of improvement because it just Limit Breaks the fuck out of my mouth, omnislashing all the flavor zones. The balance and robust flavor is irreproachable and well worth the hunt and tick, if your anus is down for that 5:1 sort of shit it will no doubt take. Godspeed you ugly tickers.

Konjaks!: Despite all my nitpicking above, this is still a fantastic beer. This should be viewed on its own and not held to the glaring standards set forth by Kaggen! It is better than Barfly and I have a serious aversion to smoke. It is as complex and fascinating as the cycle of poverty, and equally dark. I would have a tough time recommending going apeshit to lock down this one-off/rare/retired variant, but if you have already beat all the level masters and are going for completionist shit like DDB is all about: IT IS A MUST TICK.

1239 words about two rare ass Swedish beers? BRB cleaning all the cream out of my jeans.

Pat’s Beer Concentrate: Start Crushing Up Rails, Mainline your Ales Back on that Grizzy

August 15, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

It was only a matter of time before people started moving beer into bricks of that china white. That real unstepped on beer concentrate has been a product I can’t seem to go to any limited beer release without hearing about. Tickers be like “Hey you know how I weigh 245 lbs and wear a size 46 waist? Man, well one of my main issues is I can’t drink beer while I go on long hiking trips. It really sucks. I want a tepid, shitty beer to celebrate my hypothetical physical exploits.”

Well fear not, now you can chop up rails of dehydrated beer and have escorts snort them out of your stretch mark luges:

http://www.patsbcb.com/beer-concentrate

Oh you improved beer by removing all the water from it? TELL ME MORE

Consider the MIC FUCKING DROPPED ON THE BORING ASS LIQUID BASED BEER WORLD. You enjoying that St. Lamvinus you purple toothed pussy? Good, because the future is here Marty McFly, powder beer. I expect this to perform well in the 12 person mormon family, those kids are already accustomed to powdered milk, so why not horrible powdered ale?

From their site:

“Beer is typically about 95% water, which makes it heavy, cumbersome, and expensive to transport. But with our innovative and modern brewing process (patent pending) we can create a nearly waterless beer concentrate that contains all the great flavor, alcohol, and aroma of a premium quality micro brew. Our beer is not dehydrated beer!”

I can’t tell you about how when awesome 750mls of goozie show up at my door, how many times I was like “jesus this Blabaer is cumbersome, heavy and expensive to transport.” Because that’s what beer drinkers really give a fuck about, not taste, but shipping magnate considerations: “Oh tight you are gonna send me a Barrel Aged Huna? Wait…how much does that 750ml weigh? Oh fuck that, no thanks, I am not dealing with a cumbersome 2.2 lbs. Not on my watch. That is gonna cost at least eight dollars to ship. No thanks, and go fuck yourself with a letter opener.”

I love that they bring the real science up in the mix, tossing dehydrated malt up in the air like King James. Their process of dehydrating beer is so innovative the US GOVERNMENT CANT EVEN UNDERSTAND IT TO ISSUE A PATENT. Sorry patent attorneys learn to fucking Science, PAT IS ON THE TRILLEST DEHYDRATION TIP. But despite their efforts taking a water and turning it into powder, they assure you: OUR BEER IS NOT DEHYDRATED BEER.

Hold up let me look up dehydrated real quick while my vas deferens resets.

de·hy·dra·tion (d h -dr sh n). n. 1. The process of removing water from a substance or compound

OH shit, they are right, this isn’t just dehydration because they removed way more than water, they removed fun, taste, enjoyability, mouthfeel, shame, and the ability for people not to laugh at your Space Camp bullshit at the next part you go to. Maybe if you won Double Dare and still obsess about NASA, this will be your jam. I can also guarantee your small bent dick will never pass the threshold of an oral cavity. So there is also that.

Beer was fine with water. Why the fuck I dont even

So wait, if it isn’t dehydrate, what the fuck is this?

“Instead, our process (patent pending) allows us to start with almost no water, and carefully control the environment of the fermentation. The result… concentrated beer with all the same great taste you’re used to in a premium micro brew. All you do is add water, carbonate, and enjoy.”

Oh so they brew the beer, something for thousands of years made in a liquid medium, instead they…brew with no water? That’s like if you were like “You have enjoyed normal hand jobs for years, in movie theaters, in Chevrolet Cavaliers, and other cumbersome locations: BUT NOW ENJOY A HAND JOB THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE YOUR COCK OR ANY HANDS AT ALL.” If you are giving me a powder not brewed with water, then it isn’t a HJ; plain and simple.

I love their passing remark about how you just have to…carbonate it yourself. So this travel friendly product needs to be carbonated, that can’t be more cumbersome than just opening a bottle right?

http://www.patsbcb.com/carbonator

Oh wait fuck no. You have to carry a cumbersome penis pump meets Nalgene bottle. If you listen closely you will hear the sound of pilates women fleeing from your dumbass contraption. The pitter patter of size zero steps away from your very presence.

“The carbonator bottle’s organic form feels like it belongs in your hand… because it does! This elegant little addition to your gear list is engineered with an emphasis on rugged durability and simplicity of use. In its more docile state, it functions as your standard run of the mill water bottle (yawn). ”

FINALLY A FUCKING BOTTLE THAT BELONG IN MY HAND, no thanks to you, beer. What with your awkward hand-adverse shape, fuck you beer. It is funny that in the beginning they are talking mad shit on how cumbersome beer bottles are and then they assume that you have a “gear list” to enjoy this granulated precum beverage. Then they try and make it seem like some bad ass decepticon WHILE IT IS IN IN ITS DOCILE FORM. Oh shit you don’t wanna see this in its ultramalignant final form, CARBONATING THE FUCK OUT OF EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.

Just reading through this product website puts a smile on my face. The lulz are resonant through my palatial estate.

Have you ever seen a marketing agent rub his dick so hard against some Dockers that his taint is raw with anticipation? Well read this sentence:

“However, when you decide to kick it into high gear and unleash the technology hiding under its hood, you get a burst of crisp refreshing carbonation to energize the beverage of your choice. So no matter how far your wander lust leads you down the trail of your next adventure, you can still indulge your thirst for carbonated refreshment!”

They seriously wrote that, about a tiny pump on a water bottle. I am not making this shit up.

Another stupid fucking peripheral in the beer community? Disapprove.

Ok so at this point you are probably like “alright, enough cock jokes, seriously, why does this bullshit exist?”

I AM GLAD YOU ASKED:

“In 1997 Patrick Tatera was on a backpacking trip in the southern region of Canyon Lands Park in UT. Just before leaving on the trip, he and his buddy purchased a 12 pack of tasty micro brewed refreshment, put it on ice in a cooler, and then left it in the car at the trailhead. By mid afternoon, they had reached their designated camp spot in an awe inspiring section of the park. The sky was blue, the smell of sage brush permeated the air, and there was not another hiker to be seen. Everything was perfect… except one thing.”

That one thing was a line of leaking diarrhea spilling down the trailhead from all the bullshit that the participants were full of.

First of all, beer nerds don’t hike. Have you been to a beer release? They are just a step away from bucking Bronies, wearing screen printed t shirts and Fedoras from Spencer’s gifts with acne playing Apples to Apples in an industrial parking lot at 4 a.m. These motherfuckers dont exercise. Second, YOU ARE GOING ON A HIKE WHY DO YOU NEED TWELVE WARM JOSTLED BEERS? How big of an alcoholic are you that going out in nature isn’t entertaining enough for your rapacious liver?

Alright, I wont Adam Jackson you with 2200 words, I think 1300 is a good spot to stop. Just stop.

Capitalizing off of stupid fucking entry level craft beer fans? Fist bump.

Dehydrated beer wiped all on my gums, make a white stripe on undergrad skin like a Zebra, I call that shit attenuation fever.

FOODREPUBLIC.com is serving up some HAWT Beer TRADEING TIPZZZ

August 14, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright, close that Bangbus tab and get ready for some fucking sticky hot knowledge to be dropped upon you from Food Republic. YOU WANT TO TRADE BEERS MOTHERFUCKER? Well the authority on Beer Swapping: FOOD REPUBLIC is ready to school you harder than 3rd grade Vietnamese calculus:

http://www.foodrepublic.com/2013/08/08/5-steps-mastering-art-beer-trading

My face when I receive a box of beer from FOODREPUBLIC, 4 month old Nugget Nectar? Wtf.

Jon Katz master whale slayer with sickkk tipzzzz on trading. Whoever gets that illpacked stock photo box of offshelf UK Beers is gonna be so stoked.

“the postage is usually higher than the beer itself.” – Who is the person making these trades? Fedex across the country costs $15.00 on average and most people aren’t just stroking it and shipping a single box with only shelfturds like Patio Pils and 312 (NOW IN CANS), with the exception of super grateful Bruery Trustees sending those coveted thank you boxes of stale gems.

“Brews you’ve been dying to try that you simply can’t get where you live. For me, those beers were from Jester King, Karbach, St. Arnolds and No Label” with the exception of a few JK beers, this may be the least uttered sentence in the history of the English language, just after “I cant believe I fucked that guy dressed like Captain Planet, for an Arch Deluxe.” Search the forums, no one is seeking those beers, but to each his own JKatz, you old minx.

“Hey foodie friends, let’s get into trading bee- OH FUCK NONONONO”

“Don’t buy beer on eBay. Don’t EVER buy beer on eBay.” what if the beer you want is completely inaccessible except on a resale site? You just grit your teeth and lube up to pics of Kaggen and dream a lil nocturnal emission. The fact is many beers command well over their Ebay pricetags in trade value, I guess the monastic stoicism in defending a resale is commendable in that instance, but trading 12:1 is hardly laudable by contrast.

“Use 1 flat-rate shipping box” This is an excellent idea if you would like to send someone a soggy pile of broken glass and brown cardboard. These boxes are tiny and leave little room for insulation, further they are just the right “throwing size” for lazy Fedex or UPS workers. Furthermore, you can fit a maximum of 3 bombers in those, that’s if you are hitting it super raw dogggg no protection craigslist escort style. None of the aforementioned packing items would even fit on the “Large” flat rate box. No raw dog, wrap it up breh.

I am gonna transfer my Karma from Pretzeltrader.com to show my box cred, FOOD REPUBLIC STEEZE

“Expect to pay between $15-30 per box, so make it count. Ideally the trade is “valued” at double the shipping. It’s about the same as if you ordered from an online retailer” Make your own Fedex account. Stop being a weak penis. Most people value the beers inside beyond their intrinsic dollar value. Some saggy tittied trader would be pissed if HF Mimosa broke in transit, the first thing they said would not be “I PAID AT LEAST $20 for THE SHIPPING ON THAT BOX” there would be zero fucks given, unless you are just pushing futile “ROGUE FOR STONE” type of trades. In which case, yeah, shipping bills are probably the thing you look forward to most.

Maybe you are too much of a little girl to start a dangerous new hobby. Maybe you arent ready for diabetes and domestic disputes.

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

July 8, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

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

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

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 3, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

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

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

THIS ISN’T EVEN ITS FINAL FORM.

300 bottle release and Chomsky be peepin and creepin

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

American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV 15%+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prairie Bomb, As Soon As the Mashtun is up in the Benz, Ales be Poppin like Parkinson’s

June 25, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

This brewery has dropped a legit blitzkrieg on the trade boards and the offshelf distro world in general. It seems like just months ago I was sipping on the only available beer, Prairie Standard, suddenly places are getting like 10 different offerings overnight from these Okies. Their saisons were a legitmate experience, the hoppy offerings are clean and refreshing…but what about the dark side? Often times when someone is super cutty at the farmhouse world, they go to shit when they try and run a hook and ladder into the chocolate malt world. Remember when Jester King rolled out racksonracksonracks of “farmhouse” stout. Belgian Black Metal sounds like Vampire Weekend. Anyway, this is a huge stout with a list of adjuncts longer than my dick, LET’S SEE IF IT HOLDS UP.

This beer is Bomb, Lloyd Banks is not.

Prairie Artisan Ales
Oklahoma, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV

A: At first blush this has all the blueprints of a walk down Hunaland, which is the gulag in Candyland most players never make it to. The oily sheeting is substantial but you can see its not just a residual sugar mess of needless sheeting, it holds a certain degree of poise and purpose, coating in black khaki but letting the alcohol sheeting zambonie that shit clean. This is substantial in depth and has the attractive cacao foam on top like some overpriced fixed gear coffee drink some stupid girl in a stretched out tank top with a strapless bra underneath would buy. The coffee, not this beer.

A beer this complex is sure to satisfy, use your tornado tongue

S: Alright, time to tap this core sample because we are dealing with some serious strata up in this bitch. Layers and layers of complex periods piled up like corkboard. You know all those adjuncts on the label, well they show up like Dick Tracy villains in turn on the nose: coffee, roasty acidity, a sweetness like Coldstone Creamery vanilla, a tiny bit of peppers submerged under the chocolatey decadence that is pervasive. No swappertunities here you Yoplait fucks, stout hard or GTFO.

T: This is like a Terrence Malick movie rolled into a liquid medium, I don’t know if I fully get it but damn it feels good to try. The whole thing opens with that coffee dryness, baller ass single batch fair trade painter handing out acidity flyers and drying until chocolate shows up dripping wet in a candy coated slab. A fucking 88 Buick Regal of cacao milk chocolatey goodness leaves trails of stick fondant and mousse on all the low-calorie haters. You can feel yourself enrolling in crossfit when you take each substantial sip, there’s no Instragram hashtag to motivate people to this panoply. The vanilla is ranked out and doesn’t show up at all, for obvious reasons. It’s like the cast of Biggest Loser entered an elevator and vanilla is the thin ass size 20 contestant in the mix. Thank god, the chilis are subtle and don’t go ham handed like Mexican cake. It provides more of a diaphanous crackle than a full on heat that deadens the palate. Abv called in sick, nowhere to be found, having a beat sesh to Judge Judy and scrambled Cinemax all day long.

This beer is strange, but it makes my socks go up and down

M: This doesn’t coat as hard as huna, but it doesn’t really need to since the taste focuses on two aspects that don’t especially need a deep lingering stickiness. It is somewhere in that Parabola range where you wouldn’t call it exceptionally thick, but it isn’t like Blackout Stout/Event Horizon or one of those svelte thin ass stouts. I am looking at you, size 1 jeans wearing Czar Jack with that apple ass.

D: This is tough to answer and I guess it really is up to your parole officer because sure you CAN put away probably 2-3 of these 14% beers. You can smash Goldfish on the entryway and leave a teary voicemail for your ex too, but that doesn’t mean you should. I think the 12oz was perfect, you get the blast of flavors, it opens up and sweetens as it warms and the affair is over with a swift economy that is approachable, unlike a Terrence Malick movie. This displays that poise that I wish some Bruery beers would give in their girth and 750 format, my liver and love handles can’t take it.

This beer is better than most of your other life decisions.

Narrative: The employees at Nestle were non-union, well, slaves really. The cacao factory in Bolivia was the only show in town now that Kraft had shut down all the local illegal logging operations with their new Chocomegalopolisplex. It looked not unlike Midgar with its huge Mako reactor filled with molten chocolate. The human resource department scrambled around the molten obsidian body of a 4’11” bolivian man who fell into the priming tanks. “GOD DAMN IT WE HAVE TO RECALL ALL OF THOSE CHIPS AT THE HEIGHT OF TOLLHOUSE SEASON!” one executive boomed. The tiny indigenous man parted his lips and the saccharine mud gurgled as he gasped for breath. “Por…por favor…no podemos usar…cafe…en la…dulces….” he stammered dripping mahogany drops on the acrylic floor. “WHAT IS HE SAYING! This is going to be a PR nightmare if we can’t get those coffee/vanilla/chili variants out for the holiday rush,” the production overseer fumed. An uncertified company nurse patted dabs of molted chocolate from Isidro, licking her fingers in the process. The press release would be a carefully executed affair, presenting all of the merits in a restrained way, albeit with underlying power and consequences. Isidro would receive a lifetime supply of Nestle Quik in both regular and strawberry variants, resulting in the unforeseen death of his village due to malnourishment.

@beachwoodbbq_LB System of a Stout, WHY’D YOU LEAVE THE MALTS UP ON THE TABLE youwantedto

June 3, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

There is a so much drama up in the LBC, it is kinda hard being up on DDB. Alas, I went down to cinco seis dos for a little armenian coffee stout action. Before you can make the obligatory “was this brewed in Glendale” joke, let me say no, it was not. Beachwood is finally getting shit into gear with regards to bottles and now all of a sudden all these weakpenis Johnny Come Latelies are jumping on the bandwagon. I am sure most of the people seeking this out never even tried Tovarish, but we can forgive their simple souls. Anyway, this was a 800 bottle brewery release with a few cases into distro, but in CA terms, people will be trading this for DOOM and other trifling shit. Irregardlessly, let’s see if angels deserve to die in today’s review:

Coffee, armenians, brandy, 3 series, molasses, Aqua di Gio: a lot went into this beer.

Beachwood BBQ & Brewing
California, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 11.30% ABV

System of a Stout [Imperial Armenian Coffee Stout ] – An imperial stout infused with all the traditional ingredients of a savory cup of Armenian coffee: cardamom, molasses, coffee (of course), and brandy. In the kettle, the beer is lightly dosed with green cardamom for exotic spice notes. Molasses adds a richness that seamlessly blends in. The finished beer was then aged for several days on masterfully roasted coffee from Portola Coffee Lab in Costa Mesa. The beer was then aged for several weeks on Armenian brandy-soaked oak chips for yet another dimension of flavors and aromas. Take your time & enjoy this endlessly complex & nuanced beer.

A: This isn’t as molassesy and sticky messy as you would expect from something like Abyss, whose description might draw some parallels might invoke. It is akin to Parabola in thickness, nice khaki sheeting that eventually subsides. More stickiness than Stone IRS, less substantial than Abyss, dirty foam flying everywhere like a Serbian barbershop. You get the idea.

Some stouts take a weak base and surround it with alluring adjuncts, this stout already lifts and doesn’t need 15 year old skanks

S: This is incredibly complex on the old olfactory front, you get a deep roast at the outset that almost lends itself to a smokiness before pulling back and presenting a sweet acidic coffee note that is Portola through and though, kaffir/lime leaf/cardamom mixed with molasses ratchets things back in before closing with a sweet brandy note that reminds me almost of port sherry in a way. The whole thing is roasty yet acidic and sweet, fucking intense but worth it. Fuck their label though, drink this at 60 degrees. Chase that malt dragon and let this bitch open up.

T: This takes that roasty char and initially reminds me a lot of Abyss with a bitter chocolate and almost herbal aspect that is swept away by a massive coffee presence that is incredibly powerful and reminds me of some of the Barefoot blends, if you are a raging pussy and go to coffee cupping events, you will know what I be on. We out here. The brandy aspect is muted and comes across more as a sweet caramel on the backend rather than some dominant force present in say Leon or something.

Invite all your best chums over your Gamgam’s basement to listen them compare this beer to Brandy Huna. Step right up to get kicked in the taint.

M: This is incredibly dry, like walking into a burned down distillery, you knew some epic shit went down. The coffee just dries along the gumline and makes you demand more, taking another sip to perpetuate the cycle of poverty, sucking dicks down by the docks for top tier stouts. Don’t you judge me. But in all srs. This is a blend of Abyss and BA Speedway, straight up. if you wanna see those two scissor on a double donger, get on this malt mashup. If you can’t handle that, go back to BA Sump, IT’S SOOOOOOOO GOOOOD. No but seriously, BA Sump is like a trashfire on your pubes compared to this. Not a cool trashfire with lots of plastics/blue flame either, regular old scrotum scorching trash fire.

D: This is hard to really put away not because of the viscosity, or the dryness, but largely due to the complexity and parsing out each sip. Luckily the coffee takes a lead and doesn’t let the things with the brandy go ape shit. This is at heart a solid coffee stout with a spoiler and a body kit. I wouldn’t say it is earth shattering Galactus level shit like BA Kopi, but still worlds beyond most of the shit that I have to suffer through that people send me. What’s that? Provide a list? OK: Pipeworks Abduction, End of Days, Baume, infected Peruvian Morning, Cigar City humidor series anything, Smoke on the Porter, Smoking Wood anything, Exit Anything from Flying Fish, fucking Cherry Rye, Lindley Park, and the heap of janky shit constantly rolling out of Clown Shoes. There you go.

HEY MY LOCAL BREWERY MAKES A COFFEE STOUT IS PROLLY AS GOOD THO! Oh shit a 7 barrel rim system, let me finger my dick real quick.

Narrative: The mars rover rolled along the barren wasteland crushing igneous rocks taking photos indiscriminately seeking something provocative. The lens of the Curiosity caught an oily tentacle of a gastropod that slid along the red dirt laboriously. “Captain, you are gonna wanna take a look at this-” the mission control tech Michael Dunkin called out to his supervisor. The rover focused on the sticky mass and watched it pulsate and emit a noxious cloud of coffee aromas, changing forms and then gushing alcohol and phenols to attract the rover. It was a complicated mass of traits that most would have difficulty understanding, but all were captivated. “Extend Arm ancillary run protocol b4!” Michael called into the microphone and watched as the mass was penetrated, leaving behind a languishing mass of oaky organic material. “Sir! This thing is sentient and it appears to be made of coffee oils and Ararat oak!” The living fungus of mars had melded the discarded materials from earth in a fortuitous blend. Not all would find it captivating, but size 0 gourmand females would herald the dawn of a new gastronomical science.

Jack’s Abby BA Framinghammer Triple Fucking Shootout: BA, Vanilla and Coffee. Pepper that Angus for the Lager Lovin.

May 29, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Since I have been neglecting the fuck out of this trashheap of a website, I figure that some Jack’s Abby loving is in order, in the form of a tawdry threeway. Barrel aged Framinghammer is a slick little treat from those lager masters up in the frigid northeast. Just when I thought my beer boner was on full swole, they bust out two fleshlight treatments: vanilla and coffee. Cialis levels attained. To clarify, these were not aged in fleshlights, though. One can dream.

Here is the regular ass Framinghammer. Just a world class beer, nothing to see here.

Here is the regular ass BA Framinghammer. Just a world class beer, nothing to see here.

Jack’s Abby Brewing
Massachusetts, United States
Baltic Porter | 10.00% ABV

The 2013 bottles were aged in Old Weller 107 bourbon barrels.

The beer is inversely better than my shitty picture, so it’s really good. Vanilla balling.

Baltic Porter | 10.00% ABV
– Aged on vanilla beans, no fucking shit.

I love that HF stemware but I can’t help but feeling like a premenopausal single mom clutching it. Watching Nurse Jackie and Damages and shit.

Baltic Porter | 10.00% ABV
Big, bold, black and barrel aged. A length conditioning period in bourbon barrels creates a silky smooth chocolatey mouth feel enhanced by the use of oats and brown sugar. Noticeable sweetness gets balanced by roasted malt and hop bitterness. Additional flavors include bourbon, vanilla, and oak. This one is aged on Barismo coffee strictly for the pre-teens and the roast haterzz.

A: I say this with the utmost sincerity: they look exactly the fucking same. Some would argue that the carb levels might be a bit different or the lacing has some mild variation but that guy probably reads Pitchfork media and fingers his pisshole when he gets home from his job at Lowe’s so fuck that guy. It is slick and nimble in its blackness, straight scared squid action with an inkiness that imparts a degree of wateriness in the splishy splashing. The carb is a single finger of mocha foam that subsides and gives way to some bottom fermenting beauty. This porter is distinctly porter with none of this “IS BBXXIV A STOUT” sort of bullshit thread creating nonsense. Porters por vida.

This isn’t like the porters that you buy, mine have adjuncts and were inaccessible and aged in barrels so it’s ok for me to have stretch marks.

Smell

Barrel aged:
This beer has a fantastic waft to it with oak, caramel, milk chocolate, a silky Dove bar dipped in E&J, and a mallow foam stroking it in the corner. It is a 1970’s mashup of discoteque madness with porters doing cocoa rails off of unshaven bush. Very legit all around, but then the variants stepped in-

Vanilla:
This goes apeshit and gives you more vanilla than you are bargaining for. The effect is so pronounced that it almost comes across like vanilla frozen yogurt or some Coldstone Creamery madness. The regular had pronounced vanilla and this takes the bullhorn and starts pumping sticky sweet AWOL Nation shit up your nose that’s a bit too produced to be loved. Too sweet, too methodical.

Coffee:
Unlike the vanilla, this takes the base beer and massages the palm lightly, pressing a cup of joe in its hand and leaving some lipstick on the glass. This feels decadent and classy with a sharp roastiness that leans closer to the acidity profile found in the Black Cat series if you are one of those dudes who smells cups of coffee while buying your shitty Armani cologne. But for realtalk, this is the best smelling variant and doesn’t forgo the other aspects, the coffee works hand in hand with the baker’s chocolate, sticky brownie batter, and maintains that clean lager waft to it without any meddling esters in the mix.

Winrar: Coffee, easy game next question.

Give this to your trifling friends, watch their faces when you tell them it is a lager, post your stupid findings in a forum condescending on them in a passive aggressive way you pussy.

Taste

Barrel Aged Sweetits:
This has an amazing clean crispness that belies the expectations of some stouty mess running along your jawline. It opens with a cocoa aspect, some 85% cacao you impulse buy at Trader Joes, nice 4 Roses sort of sweetness in the finish that screams mallow and werther’s original with a light pat of coconut on the ass. Just fantastic.

Vanilla Facial:
This again just pushes all of the other aspects out of the spotlight and the base beer could not even beer barrel aged since the sticky cake batter just drops hot loads on everyone’s chest. It is just too much, too sweet, almost reminds me of a sticky oiliness in execution. Let me say all this with the qualifier that it is STILL BETTER than almost every BA porter that I have had, but these three just wreck buttholes in tandem so it’s hard to be forgiving.

Coffee Groping:
This has some of the same issues as vanilla, what with it pushing the espresso harder than a 7th grade weed dealer, pumping a hipster agenda. But god damn, you willingly comply because the product it is moving is so good. The beans and coffee merge with the seamless chocolate fondant wateriness of the base beer and it is a perfect fusion of RomCom and softcore coffee porn. You know the type.

WinRar: Gotta give it to Barrel Aged on this one.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter which variant you pick, someone is getting fucking destroyed.

Moutherfeelings:

Again, all of these have the similar base of a swift brown water rafting trip (i.e. in Jalisco.) The toasted malts don’t hang around too long and the chocolate, almond, whipped mocha aspects all embrace the barrel lovingly. The coffee is a bit drier than the other two, but it makes you thirstier for something that is already exceptionally drinkable. The vanilla is a bit more sticky and if you shop at Lane Bryant, you could probably drink this while everyone else is at prom/getting hand jobs and you can smile in the mirror with your sweet khaki stained teeth and tell yourself that you have a good personality. But ultimately, the sticky sheeting and cling to the vanilla gets old fast, like that pesky 10th grader who wont stop texting you after you said you loved her. Fucking clingy.

Winrar: Coffee.

Drinkability:

It is tough to break these buys apart in this aspect because I could crush these like homeless people crush cans at a recycling center: all day and while covered in filth. The variants are a bit less drinkable overall because of stylistic hurdles, but they are still damn near session beers and drink like Edmund Fitzgerald that leads to DUI-city at 10% abv. Even the most closed vagina would embrace that clamshell hug for how drinkable these old chestnuts are.

Winrar: Barrel Aged version.

Overall winner, bossing your palate the fuck around, telling you what’s what:

The Coffee version pounded size 1 hipster men in their skinny livers, have them all redfaced talking about some shitty half finished memoire that they are finishing, the great american coming of age lager that most people with defined lats will trashcan and enjoy.

The coffee is amazing, so it wins.

NARRATIVE:

If you think I am typing a narrative for you ungrateful loftdwellers after laying down a solid 1200 words, you can push your testicles into your butthole.

I bet it does.

Perennial Barrel Aged Sump Coffee Stout, Straight Double Yuban on the Canadian Mist Tip

May 20, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Even since that god damn Barrel Aged Abraxas dropped, people have been losing their shit over this brewery. They make some genuinely awesome beers and their berliners are too legit for any form of quitting. However, like anything else, the hype sometimes outpaces the product and people were stumbling over themselves to nab anything, it was like Sub Pop in the early 90’s putting out all these janky products and people were still buying the grunge shit. Anyway, here’s an overhyped coffee stout that some people have been getting creamer in their jeans over, let’s brew this brah:

The label is dark and metal, the beer is straight Nescafe RIS

Perennial Artisan Ales
Missouri, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 10.50% ABV

A: This pours out not unlike some black coffee with a deep slickness to it, nice khaki head on it that immediately peaces the fuck out. The coating is pretty lackluster and it looks like old Czar Jack in the wateriness department. It turns into a Vente drip almost instantly and chins are rested upon fists forthright.

That’s pretty much what happened to me.

S: This has a huge acidic waft to it of gritty coffee beans the produces a harsh roast with an acrimonious finish. This is not like BCBCS where you are like “ah Tortuga, yeah lime kaffir lime, nice acidity” not like that at all, this just nose fucks you like you used way too much Seattle’s best in a drip batch. If you are stoked for some barrel treatment, keep moving because this has that BA Sexual Chocolate treatment, namely, no barrel waft at all. If you grasp at straws and let this warm up hoping for some vanilla, oak, or something redeeming: be prepared to smell barista musk and more gritty spent grounds.

T: This is coffee forward backward and undercarriaged. There really is nothing else but a huge roasty coffee haymaker that puts you on your ass and leaves you licking the drip brew off your teeth wondering about the chocolate malts, maybe a bit of complexity from the barrel? Too bad, you get cold coffee that gets you pretty dreezed fairly easily. It’s like you keep thinking Jenelle Evans will improve, but its the same one note offputting character that you have come to grimace at.

Thought I was about to be on some coffee radio Rahim shit, it was like Amy Grant small batch brew.

M: This is incredibly thin not unlike Eclipse, but wholly lacking in the barrel complexity. At least when you drink thin ass Eclipse you can nod and go “alright, nice mallow, nice vanilla and oak” but here you just shake your head looking into your tepid black coffee and see your fat double chins staring back up at you, wondering if you can ever get partial custody of your unappreciative children. The acidity just dries the gumline and sits on your teeth like a mocha frap poured into Stone IRS. You know how Kopi Speedway or Bourbon County coffee presents a substantial coffee profile that lingers buttressed by the malts underneath? Well this is like coffee first, stout second, a distant last place in this two person relay.

D: If you absolutely love South American coffees and highly acidic brews, and generally dislike stouts, you will anomalously love this coffee stout. I drank about 10 oz of this after committing it to the plumbing vortex of trader’s lament. It would be unfair to say that regular Ryan Bros. Speedway Stout is better than this, since personal tastes may vary, but please trade cautiously for this old roustabout. Well shoot, there goes my donation box from Perennial, go blackout and watch an iCarly marathon and start making some good life decisions.

“You probably just don’t like coffee or stouts” solid arguments coming from Twitter on the reg.

Narrative: Dwayne Wade just did not know what to do with himself in the post-season. He kicked the opulent white tiger rug in his gaudy Miami mansion and looked out his 18 foot floor to ceiling windows over the ocean villas. “Sometimes I feel like, maybe balling outrageous is only the tip of how ill D-Wade can bring it,” he thought to himself. He walked across the imported marble foyer and remembered a smoking hot Suicide Girl barista that he used to bone and nodded to himself, he would be the world’s most ballerest barista. Problem was, D-wade was too fucking big to fit in standard barista operations. His brash coordination was not the same employed in the brewing of small roast batches. Thrice he pounded the espresso machine and broke the handle while frothing the fuck out of some milk. He was skilled in many things, but he would ruin the fuck out of your morning cup of joe. Just before he was fired from “Grounded Buzz!” coffeeshop, Lebron James entered and purposely ordered a depth charge red eye, served as a press with a 2 min shot. D-wade had never faced a coffee dilemma like this since his period of prestigious academia at Marquette University. LeBron gave him a hulking thumbs up as he cast the green apron into the coffee station and slapped a female co-worker on her ass, spilling a substantial amount of Colombian fresh roast on the floor. Ballerest fucking barista ever, shittiest coffee ever.

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Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

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