@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.”

@hillfarmstead Elaborative, These Walnuts Be Gaspin These Tickers Ain’t Ready For Action

June 21, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

If you want to make beer nerds pass out from the blood rushing to their inner thigh sweat glands: 1) release a collaboration beer that hits two midcontinent hot spots 2) add an adjunct to it (walnut beans) 3) release it in Vermont 4) make it 1 per person. Oh shit, if you listen you can hear the flapping shut of labias like firefly wings. It is Horace incarnate the way that beer nerds lose their fucking minds over prospective tasting. I love when beer nerds give up amazing beers they havent tried for another amazing beer that they haven’t had yet. The lulz that I reaped were on the swords to plowshares level when the BA Kopi for Cherry Rye trades were going down. Later I saw people giving up T25 for MS3000 and wiped my brow with a calm collection and noted the disparity. Long story short, people want this shit. They jockin on them Chad/Shaun nutssszzzz of the WAL variety. Let’s see if Jackie O’s distributed this to 300 employees and ruined shit.

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn’t stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

Availability: Limited (brewed once). bottle (4), on-tap (1).

Notes:
Tart Brown Ale brewed with Ohio Walnuts. Aged 18 months in a variety of oak barrels… in friendship with Brad at Jackie O’s and Chad at Crooked Stave.

A: Alright hold onto your lifeless squatless asscheeks, this beer is dark, has a mahogany sheen to it like an Oud Bruin and wispy lil 1/1 Black Mana Will of the Wisp that fades with a khaki collar like a Fubu 3 piece suit. Shit is basically the ESPY awards with more lacing. Even Reggie Bush would think this was over the top.

AHHH no wayyy you are 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

AHHH no wayyy you and 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

S: This reminds me of Oud Bruins for dayzzz, some will disagree as is their right but the nuttiness is only present at mid 60 degrees. It is more of a currant and light lemon aspect meets a huge porter/roast zeitgeist. Let’s take it back to the first party when you tried your first Molly, before you were sippin Rodenbach and not givin a fuck, them Oud Bruins would hit you hard like Kimbo Slice. This leaves that almond tannin aspect in your nose but a tart black chery shasta aspect mixing with it. I am not going to say 6th grade sleepover, but SNES may be involved.

T: The other 5 people who reviewed this are full of shit for the most part. Let’s just put that out there. There is no walnut going on for the most part. If you start rubbing your nips expecting nuts, keep expecting. This is like how Jackie O’s released NUT and you were like “THIS DARK APPARITION SUCKS.” It is like that, except they nailed their nut onto Prolegomena. You expect this shit to have lambo doors and wild out with deep roast and tartness, but the walnut just nods its head in 2/4 as a support character lending more gumline tannic dryness than some Funky Buddha hardcore adjuncty busted nuts. You get some black cherry but the roast kinda works the door akin to CD4 aka the most underappeciated fucking beer ever. It’s not really sour, its not really tart, its not really a creamy Oud Bruin either. It is kinda like a Ford Flex where you feel like you could use it but you aren’t sure how.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

M: This has that hard as fuck water profile that Hill Farmstead imparts with that bizarre carbonation that levels motherfuckers with a balanced creaminess. That aspect blows me away every time and almost pisses me off. It is like the Coca Cola recipe for mouthfeel and they kill it every time. Even when they “fail” with beers like Jimmy, which I disliked, they still smash it on olfactory and mouthfeel and its still wordclass and has what linguists call “A method of intentionality.” I can’t dislike this beer simply because it is well done. I don’t like the Camaro SS redesign but, god damn it, 420 horsepower and the engineering is hard to disagree with. Even if this isnt as sour or nut laden as you wanted, it is still fucking awesome.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the ABV is a punchline to a joke that your dry cleaners will tell you later. The one two punch of tart and deep roast just washes hand over hand and your glass is empty. Take out your detective kit and look closely, I drank the whole bottle to myself and my acorn penis got full sensation. Every other bullshit site will show some 1oz forced perspective like Fritz Lang. I dont’ even know why I bother comparing DDB to other sites, this shit has no peers, lezbiahonest.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it…doesn’t feel that good.

Narrative: Lucretius paced wildly in his limestone cell, awaiting his fate with a tenuous repose. “For all reduces to matter, there is no soul, only one unity in matter, but getting killed for this would seriously fucking suck” he muttered to himself while rehashing a series of Hellenic hexameters in solitude. The comforts of atomism were reductionist at best. He ran his palms against the cool stones of his cell and licked the walnut residue from his gums, embracing his fits of “habit”: counting the tiles, recounting Gallic encounters with specificity, and espousing proto-materialist doctrine. Everyone was pretty fucking sick of listening to him. The forum was crowded with plebian well wishers and Lucretius provided little in the way of new gods or old. He was a synthesis that was easy to embrace, however, it did not provide a deeper clarity to any real problems an individual was seeking. It was a far cry from the Legumes of Pythagoras, but his existential hopelessness did little to rouse a pre-Octvaian world. Synthesis alone was not comfort, execution and mastery was only revered with Cicero, the pangloss nature of Cato was all that he could hold on to. For some it was enough, but those were the same Praetorian that did not need it in the first place. Many nuts were busted in that cell.

@gooseisland Cherry Rye Bourbon County Brand Stout,

June 10, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

God damn I am sick of hearing about this fucking beer. When this first came out on Black Friday all of the 312 beer nerds were slapping their blubbering labias together crying about how “THER AER ONLY 50 CASES OF THIS BER MADE!!!1!” because their Whole Foods ran out. Boo fucking hoo, now they have to enjoy it on draft at Public Option or some shit. But really, that makes sense, InBev takes their most popular craft line and does a straight up Sole Composition release with it. Oh wait, then a billion cases of it start landing a month later and even people in New Jersey were trying to push their crude digits up in the O-ring. The requests that people had when this initially dropped were hilarious and stagering, looking for RareR DOS and BA Kopi and shit. The lulz were not insubstantial. Anyway, let’s review this Shirley Temple trainwreck and get to the bottom of what kinda mantits are being hidden under those stylish North Face jackets.

I know I criticize shitty pours on this site, but srs take a small pour because the rest might be committed to the wanting sink sarlacc pit.

Most people may not recognize this beer with > 2 ounce pour. Some of the finest midwest offerings seem amazing while enjoyed in a line, 40 degrees outside in a 1 oz format.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.70% ABV

A: Just like that rest of the BCBCSBCSBCSSBSBS lineup, it is heavy, viscous, settles with some generous sheeting and a pencil thin head. I didn’t come into this expecting some amazing head, it’s like a Mormon dance, only darker. The legs sheet with the clear alcohol profile but ultimately this is pretty to the numbers to the other BCBS variants. You can’t really hate on a mediocre dude who puts in his hours and goes home and sleeps with a gun under his pillow. Just leave him alone, srs.

open this amongst a bunch of 2013ers and watch them lose their shit over the massive 12000 bottle whale you just produced.

S: Oh fuck, they took a page from the Bramble playbook of “How to Ruin Wordclass Stouts in 1 Easy Step.” It’s a fairly short manuscript. Alright for everyone attempting to trade for this beer, I want you to open a BCBS, add a tiny splash of water to water down the ABV/mouthfeel, then go find that Bolivian dude who sells shaved ice, the one with a huge head that is like 4’8″ tall. Ok now pump 7 pumps of cherry extract into your Stout snocone. You just made Cherry Rye. This has zero cherry tannins or any complexity on a real fruit front and is seriously like drinking BCBS with Sucrets in your mouth and then chasing it with a Fruit by the Foot. Those are flavor profiles that work super well, fucking Rye whiskey and ripe fruit extract. I for one am always enjoying my Templeton with a pile of Gushers. Far underneath the rubble there is the BCBS you love, chocolatey and satisfying, crushed in a mound of adjuncts and horrible intentions.

T: Alright so if the cherry profile wasn’t pronounced enough, take that homemade Cherry Rye you were working on and toss a splash of Robitussin into it. The medicinal quality of the cherry reminds me of the flouride you get from the dentist, mixed with roast, chocolate, mallow, rye crackle, and finishes with a sort of red Squeezit profile. If you remember those, you probably were pounding poon in the early 2000’s, peeling those flared Mudd jeans off. The base beer is still there with a fat cherry black eye saying it doesn’t want to press charges and you want to see it fight back and get rid of this dominant fruit asshole who doesn’t belong there. Battered stout syndrome for sures.

I personally think a sticky cherry mess is horrible but some people are into crazy shit.

M: This has that amazing sticky coating profile from BCBS, except it brought its diabetic cousin in tow with its amputated leg and awkward cherry crutches. You want to be like “get out of here you cherry handicapped fuck, BCBS and I were having a conversation.” It’s ironic that the people who hate on CCB abd Bruery beers for residual sugars and FG problems pull out their tiny maraschino puds and juice it over this saccharine mess. Stouts and grenadine don’t mix unless you are a postmenopausal woman who mashes on cherry cordials and watches PASSIONS while the stouts earn the dollars doing man shit. That isn’t misogynist, it’s just a confused ass analogy.

D: Not at all. I had a legit pour and couldn’t finish this shit, epipens were stacked like spent shells out of a barret 50cal. Some of you bleachedbuttholes might have stumbled upon this website and be all like “HE PROLLY JUST DOESNT KNOW ABOUT BCBS LOL!” I drank this next to all of the other variants and this was second to worst edging out only the ubiquitously feces-clad Bramble. Don’t tell me about palate fatigue either, this shit is srs not good. The only redeeming quality it has is that people can wear themselves out seeking this sack of testicles out and leave people without scrotumpalates to land legit beers. A year ago people had their nips blasting talking about how Bramble was gonna improve, and I anticipate that this too will age like a 1991 Tercel with no AC. Seek this one out and waste your time, leave Ale Apothecary and Treehouse Brewing alone, let the real tickers through.

LOL i haed a fruit stout am cicerony now, expert time

Narrative: No narrative today, it would be some thinly veiled shit about a cherry orchard that is planted on a toxic waste dump or something I am sure.

@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.

@thebruery Brandy Barrel Bois, Turk BG Weezy and Juvie aka them Hot Bois

May 28, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I had to abstain last year from reviewing Fruet because of some rusty ass wd40 haters, so in atonement for same, I might as well get on my shit and review the Brandy Barrel variant of this year. Some would expect me to pipe down the French Oak Hoarder’s variant, but balling out of control implies a modicum of control. Don’t worry, mama knows child. Anyway, this was my personal favorite variant, but the quality of this beer is demonstrated by the fact that no one that I talked to agreed on which variant was best. My pervert ass friend with a small beer dick preferred the Virgin Bois. There’s an entendre somewhere in there, feck it.

You guys I am instagramming now, I practically know photoshop, everything sepia from now on.

The Bruery
California, United States
Old Ale | ABV 15.5%

“Bois is our fifth anniversary ale, loosely brewed in the English-style Old Ale tradition using our house Belgian yeast strain and then blended using the solera method. A portion of each of our anniversary ales is saved in our barrels and blended in with the next year’s production, providing more complexity and depth of character that comes with age. Layered with complex flavors of dark fruit,vanilla, oak, and burnt sugar, Bois is a robust ale, surely the perfect beer to mark this major milestone.”

A: This is a murky muddy affair not unlike Melange 3, or the other anniversary beers for that matter. It has a gentle head that has a beatuiful “coffee in the garbage disposal” turbid gurgle to it that lets you know that shit is about to get real. The lacing tries its best but the clear sheeting wipes the slate clean like an incriminating etch a sketch pretty quickly.

If you complain about ABV, fusel notes, or residual sugars, you might be a raging pussy: CALL 1-800-JIZZPALATE FOR A FREE CONSULTATION

S: This is the sweetest variant but it balances the base beer and compliments the fuck out of it like episode 1 of every season the Bachelor. There is a raisin, sticky sweet alcohol waft, bourbon, vanilla, caravienne, caramel, and feels like an amped up BB4d with a bit more deep fruits and a bit more astringency. It hits your nose holes and runs harder than C-Breezy.

T: The taste presents a toasty char, fig, caramelized dates, there is an after dinner port/sherry aspect to this that is like a quad taking n0x and getting lats blasting like bat wings. The taste is ridiculously barrel forward and leaves a wafty almond/fusel aspect to it that piggy backs behind the sweet notes with a stern authority. You aren’t afraid of detention, but when the brandy barrel kicks in you know you are about to be suspended as fuck and your liver is gonna be stopsign red.

opened this up alone and my face be like

M: This is not as hot as the waft would lead you to believe, there is a sweet dryness to it that just improves as it warms. If you are being a complete pussy and drink 1.5oz of this at some shitty “OMG ALL THE ANNY BEIRS TASETING!!!” at least let it warm up before you drop a hot 3.75 on it like a dickhead. It has a sticky residual aspect that all but guarantees a DUI in your khaki gumline and ICP cd bumping from your Pontiac Sunfire.

D: In all honesty, this is not some massive session beer that you can rock hard and put away wet. This beer will dominate your palate, push other beers to the backseat and make you file a cell transfer request to the tastebud warden. If you can put away a bottle of this, you can join the DDB club of underlying alcoholism, your secret is safe with me. In summary, this is extreme, yet refined, boozy, yet addicting. I killed the entire bottle but other vagina mouths will likely complain about things they don’t know about. If you are one of those “modified pullup” drinkers that cant handle BCBS fresh, put this away for 9 months and leave the rest of us out of your unmerited complaints. Bottom line: this is an exceptional beer well in line with BB4D, better than Coton and Papier, but not as delicious at 100% BA Cuir. If you have context for what I am saying, then both of you, let’s get a beer.

Some people just know how to be gettin it. Don’t hate.

Narrative: There was a mystical energy in Warren Gibson. He was poised and refined while maintaining a quiet power in his stature. Variety once called him “MR SUMMER BLOCKBUSTER” and he looked upon his various awards while glancing out upon the Wilshire traffic. “You destroyed Catwoman, you will never work again!” he recalled and took a sip of 18 year brandy. The royalty checks kept rolling in and he read some hateful Battlefield Earth mail and ran his fingers across the cold mahogany of his opulent desk. IF anyone else had been a silent producer on Hudson Hawk, Speed Racer, and Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, they might second guess themselves. This man was a powerhouse with an active playbook of amazing productions that none could touch. However, his silent endeavors were a bit too heavyhanded for those who did not understand them. The pure heat of his production values intimidated many and pushed them to the RomCom genre. “You cannot argue with success” was the motto on his vanity plate and he smiled while concurrently signing the greenlight on a film that would win Cannes and the approval for Pluto Nash 2: Pluto’s Dissent.

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.

Revolution Brewing Mean Gene Flicking that Mean Bean on the Clean Scene

April 22, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I give the midwest traders dress downs on the regular for shittyh trade offers and some people get butthurt at the perceived bias. In the future I will try to clown on Florida and the Pacific Northwest to make some amends. In the interim, how about a completely fucking favorable beer review of something amazing straight out of the 312? Can we still be friends? I have had latent curiosity about Revolution ever since I tried Mad Cow, and every offering that I have subsequently enjoyed has been amazing. This brewery is spitting crazy ether and dropping hot 16s on cyphers just making other midwest breweries, excepting maybe Haymarket, getting copped up and clapped quick. So enough massaging the sack, let’s get at these beans.

I was gonna make an erection/wood play here but, at this point it is like a single entendre

Revolution Brewing Company – Brewpub
Illinois, United States
American Porter | 8.50% ABV

A: This beer is full of fucking life for a deep malignant looking brew. It froths out crackly and excited, lacing the glass and looking like a Honduran waterpark all dark and full of vigor. The lacing looks great and it maintains that clearly porter aspect to it with some nice legs but no crazy char staining the glass like the petulant beast Huna, just ruining carpets and doling out paternity tests.

It is tough to argue with porters that are this good.

S: This has an incredible interplay between the coffee, roast, light oak, vanilla and the barrel cloystered way in the back like an approving parent. This doesn’t go apeshit in any one aspect and the coffee has this acidity that gently scissors the barrel aspects, straight grinding them beans. I could quaff this all day but don’t think I am some quaffer, ain’t nobody got time for that.

T: This reminds me of “Baby BA Kopi” in many ways. The coffee doesn’t go as hard, the barrel has this coconut/oak/roasty aspect and a gentle vanilla that is not the relief pitcher it is the closer. This just has an incredible balance that remains distinctly porter and doesn’t go down this quasi-stout road. I could drink this all day, hit parked cars, holler at pregnant women and get lackluster hugs from drunk sorority chicks. It is that kinda beer.

cant land limited barrel aged porters? Don’t cry, drink an Edmund Fitzgerald and think about things that coudl have been.

M: This washes clean and just serves to dice shit up quickly with little residual sugars but a great barrel character that is restrained enough that you don’t need to plan ahead or split this. Fuck your friends, they didn’t show up to your Slam Poetry competition, drink this alone. The watery aspects would usually be a knock, but in this instance it just delivers shit up flawless. These other breweries wanted beef until Revolution started serving up slabs. This is on the same level as Batch 2 Birth of Tragedy and gives a sly nod to Jack’s Abby BA Framinghammer, being in the mix with the late great porters.

D: Taken as a whole, this beer is incredibly drinkable and masks that abv with great depth but at colder temps a sort of incredible simplicity. At higher temps the beers opens up and shows its more complex sides, a lil something for everyone. It’s like putting on a Crazy Town album, just incredible depth and clarity for all, magnum opus of- just kidding I can’t even type this, Crazy Town is worse than stapling your labias together.

Bourbon, char, roast, chocolate just getting up in the mix for a sick cuddle sesh

Narrative: Gepetto’s woodworking shop was not performing as expected. Perhaps it was his fault, opening a fanciful woodshop in 17th century Vienna. People just did not have the need for trifles and dolls in a post-reformation world. Gepetto would get so lonely, looking out the shop windows, observing the bustling populace going to and fro. It was never in his constitution to be a butcher or a baker, he was born for the baroque and ornate woodworking was the only thing he knew. Sometimes patrons would frequent his store and he would be seen speakingly lovingly to an inanimate doll or laughing and patting a wooden bear on the head. Despite his beneficent intentions, people were creeped out. He was a master with the wood, but his execution was not for the general populace. It would take generations to realize that his creations required no strings, none at all. His brilliance laid in his ability to take the simple and raise it to a level of grandeur unparalleled in wood grinding until Seventh Veil opened on Sunset, many years in the future.

Peg’s Nooner BATCH 2: RareR DOS with Vanilla Beans, NOT SOME JANKY BLENDED BERLINER

April 12, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

So it has been what, four months since these hateful little growlers were filled and people are still slanging them like yellowtop vials up on the boards. Some people swear by these 16oz swingtops and, I guess for a beer like this, it really doesn’t matter: people will seek them out irregardlessly. So if I recall correctly, something like 120 of these were filled, 1 per person, but of course in the wild west Florida trading scene, people get scooping up multiples like a Craigslist Casual Encounter. Enough pageantry, let’s see if you wanna flick your vanilla bean after today’s review.

I have the fattest nooner right now

Peg’s Cantina & Brewpub
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This is somehow more lackluster and just looks dingier than the RareR variant and far less excited than the Regular ass Rare DOS. It has some minimal lacing, a tiny head, some gentle sheeting, but nothing too apeshit. There is a certain sloppiness to it that screams artisinal that a 50 barrel system just couldn’t pull off. Not sure if thats just QC lipstick on the base of a maltcock, but shit is sloppy in a fun way.

hot sticky synthetic vanilla on stout action

S: This, like the RareR is also all over the place and not exactly what you would expect. If you are thinking “Alright, Vanilla Dark Lord right?” fucking wrong. You remember how the RareR DOS had none of that super traditional rum aspect to the nose, well this iteration of vanilla is kinda more like Hostess saccharine sweet frosting. There’s obviously the whole entourage of coconut, vanilla, caramel coated mallowfoam, but they are really muted relative to this big powerful “vanilla” aspect that comes across more like fondant, or some kind of confectioner’s delight. I like this beer less than both of the previous iterations, I feel like they set the boost too high and the turbos are just spooling up and whipping cake batter.

T: This presents that same wonderful brownie batter, a sort of 4 Roses bourbon werther’s original sweetness to the treatment, but again the real star is this Coldstone Creamery asshole just dominating the flavor profile with all this vanilla goodness. This wouldn’t be offputting if the vanilla was amazing, or at least balanced. This just takes this NY Yankees “more is better” approach and ends up alienating people and getting hated on. Let me clarify, this is still an amazing beer, don’t think I am saying this is some Clown Shoes level shit. I am merely stating that what should be a modifier largely detracts from the whole experience. Some guys want a girl who can squirt, but if she starts gushing vanilla extract all over, you would probably be like “ok, that’s it, no more for me, I am gonna need that $300 back.”

Some people fall in love with this beer and go through crazy lengths to be with it

M: This is the same as the other ones, toeing that amazing line between thin ass offerings from Eclipse/Foothill/Central Waters, but straying away from the Hunas and Menacing ass Dark Lords of the world. Think along the lines of Parabola or a beefier Czar Jack. No I am not going to condescend and bring in the fucking casuals with some Ten Fidy or Old Rasputin references. This is for tickers flexing that iron, go to your offshelf pilates class this website isn’t for you.

D: Overall this is exceedingly drinkable, if you can get past the beetus nose and vanilla hammering away at your jawline. Like oh so many rare ass offerings, it’s really tough to recommend this 20% improvement if you are giving up BA Kopi or Birth of Tragedy type of stuff to land it. If it is a reasonable trade, absolutely seek this out. Otherwise wait until Doug has a family member pass away and he opens up his massive 7 barrel system*.

I am not saying they should have cancelled this batch, but maybe it was a bit rushed.

Narrative: The University of Connecticut had never seen a season like this, and a turnout of over 30% of the seats sold at a women’s basketball game was staggering to say the least. “You girls are really doing something here, I mean forget Title IX, you girls are almost running only 49% in the red this season…A UNIVERSITY RECORD!” their Coach Ms. Hammerstein boomed in the opulent, nearly unused locker room. The mannish young women nodded plaintively and Coach Hammerstein caught power forward Takesha Williams blush. “You got something to say Takesha?” the coach importuned aggressively. “Nah coach it’s just, I wasn’t supposted to say nothin’ it’s just…” the rest of the team shook their heads as Takesha winsomely revealed the huge secret of their success. “Ain’t nobody tryna watch no women’s basketball, I mean, sitting through all that to see 41 points scored, it’s painful,” the coach sat on a bench and tapped her foot nervously. “Coach, we been Beaning, beaning all semester, since preseason even-” Takesha, a hulking amazon of an athlete pulled out a small vial of raw sticky wet vanilla beans. Coach Hammerstein dropped her gaze to the hexagonal tiles. “You…you told me it was air freshener, they are gonna cancel our grant. Dozens of the UCONN fans will be DEVASTATED!” Coach Hammerstein boomed as each young woman revealed their sticky sacks of beans. It was unnatural, and a conceitless way to ensure victory, but women’s basketball was hardly watchable without them all straight poppin their beans.

* I do not wish harm on any of the Peg’s or Cycle Brewing Staff and I am sure the Will and Intestate laws of Florida would treat his heirs amiably.

Cascade Bottleworks XIV, The Barret .50 cal of the American Wild Ale world, dropping shells in that chiquita

March 27, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright let’s knock out some more of the recent walez that have been clogging up the trade boards recently. This one is a glorious return from the complete Bottleworks nonsense that Stone offered up as last year’s anniversary beer. Every other year was like “hey let’s take our time and make a limited, amazing sour with almost zero distribution” and Stone was all like “how about we make a hoppy belgian strong with that same yeast strain that no one is stoked about? Ok now we will ship this to 34 states. Good.” So this was a breath of relief to see things getting back to normal. Let’s pound on this 14 year old in today’s review

You read that label correctly, almost 12% abv. Dropping more Lane Bryant panties than a Chris Brown record.

Cascade Brewing / Raccoon Lodge & Brewpub
Oregon, United States
American Wild Ale | 11.95% ABV

A: This is an outright beautiful beer with minimal lacing but substantial carbonation at the outset that sits in a sticky white cap (EUPHEMISM DETECTED) on the rim of a golden hue. Look at that, looking all like Nana’s broach, that sort of beauty you only see in your girlfriend’s eyes when she says “we lost the baby” or something like that. Tragic yet life altering. The sheeting is present in thick clear legs running down the glass like a Sir Mix A Lot video, NSFW stuff.

It is tough to imagine that massive 12% abv could have the fruits and grace of a complex american wild ale, but it pulls it off straight up Manticore style.

S: Holy hell, the traditional super lactic Cascade ultra acid bomb is present here, but he brought some ass beating friends to the school dance. In tow is Pineapple dipped in bourbon, Rum with some vanilla numchucks, and finally a Navel Orange with oak ninja stars. It is a formal fighting force that kicks ass on both tart and savory fronts.

This is a powerful hybrid of two things I love, maintaining power and beauty at the same time.

T: This maintains at the outset the incredibly tart apricot and juicy tangerine acidity but languishes into this really strange sitting chair of caramel and mallow kisses. The rum aspects kinda remind me of 5 Golden Rings or a super lactic Belgian tripel. This is complex almost to a fault because right when you get grounded with all the tart characters, shit turns into some crazy old ale realm where you can’t follow the plot of this beer. Supporting characters be popping up all pell mell, offering handjobs and kicking out barrel aged secrets.

M: This is a heavy double barrel heater all up in your oralfacehole. The residual sugars roll around like substrate in a lava lamp and the heat is decidedly present for a strangely distracting beer. You’d think this beer would have plenty of other aspects to focus on with the sour and crazy barrel properties, but the alcohol burn is still there and at higher temps it is the femme fatale of the film noir that’s going on in your mouth.

D: This is just too heavy, too hot, too everything to enjoy on long stretches. That coupled with the fact that this is a 12% beast with tons of beeetus inducing final gravities, makes it a tough one to take down solo. If you went deep on this 750ml, keep it in the fridge between pours because the complexity it gains at the high 50 temps is not what you are seeking. These are not the flavor droids that you are seeking. The carb makes this easy to drink and unless you let this open up to room temps, it will be tame and treat you right. At colder temps that 12% abv is kept in tow like a Korean wife, but behind closed doors, makes you its bitch.

I LOVE BIG WILD ALES THEY BE SO BAD. Oscar Wilde bad.

Narrative: Elvis Dumervil tossed his keys onto the rick mahogany table and lowered his head cautiously and skulked into the home, hoping that no one was awake. “SO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO COME HOME AT 2:34 in the morning, Elvis,” Latosha Dumervil remonstrated and flipped the light on in clear agitation. His massive frame shifted on his sore quads and he quickly set the bag in his arms down on the dark teak floor. “Baby please, you know it ain’t gotta be like that-” he pleaded and watched her pace back and forth shaking her head in disappointment. “Oh it aint gotta be like that? How it gotta be Elvis? You leave the Broncos and start living this double life, putting on more and more weight, more power, lifting barrels, eating strictly acidic fruits? WHO DO THAT? WHO BE DOING THAT ELVIS?” Elvis clenched his jaw and stared at her. “OH SO 63.5 SACKS WASNT GOOD ENOUGH HUH? NOW I GOTTA ANSWER TO THIS SHIT?” He kicked his duffle bag and horticulture equipment rolled out, among gardening supplies. “Oh so you WEREN’T AT RAVENS PRACTICE WAS YOU!” He turned crimson and gathered the items up. “I swear to God Elvis if you have been working on that orchard again and barreling preserves…WE JUST CAN’T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN.” Just then his phone lit up with a text from Dink Martindale “YO ELVIS WE NEED THAT BRLED FRUITS NAO!!!” His wife began packing a suitcase.

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Category Archives: bourbon aged