Category Archives: flanders red

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Lost Abbey Framboise De Amarosa, Farmboise De Omarosa REEEMIXXXX 2012 CLUE CLUE DJ KAYSLAY THE DRAMA KING fee fee feenn feeennn.

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Alright, so I don’t usually drop the beat and bring the track back unless there’s not enough snare in my headphones. In the case of last year’s Framboise De Amarosa, there was too much acidic tinny snare rankling my jimmies. I was straight rustled. So I figured I would give this a chopped and screwed 2012 flow for the masses.

Some people complain that there are too many sour reviews up in the cut like what these days. Don't worry, the days of shitty adjunct lagers and Solo cups is almost among us. The air is redolent with bluebell and azalea.

Lost Abbey Framboise de Amarosa
American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

Let me kick off this slow jam by noting that this is largely different from last year’s batch in that the acidity has been ratcheted in, they install some sick fruit forward headers, and catback raspberry exhaust. If you like a more subtle approach, you will enjoy it more, if you have dental insurance, you might like the old acidic approach, hey, whatever chases your Valtrex is cool with me homie.

Old craft beer enthusiasts are tough to impress.

A: There are deep ruby hues with some nice light carbonation and light red lacing. It’s like Hypnotiq’s baller ass raspberry flavor to be all sipping on while you’re cruising in your triple black Challenger. It looks a lil more murky than last year but on the Cuvee De Tomme tip, just a lil juicy juice.

This beer is confusing but strangely fulfilling. The mystery continues further this year. Uncel Doland appreves.

S: The smell presents an intense cranberry and acidic dryness with raspberry on the nose. The oak is present in the smell and it is has a juicy wine profile to it. It’s like Andre Rose Champagne but with leather seats and a cutty ass Gucci interior. The skins and crispness of the berries is more present and there’s less of a harshness on the low ph scale to this, and it is more approachable as a result.

T: The taste is still drying but doesn’t go balls out on the oak, it has more of a refined and balanced approach to the berry and interplay with the base beer. If last year was a caustic Fox news, this would be…The Raspberry Science Monitor? As it warms you get a jammy preserve sort of interplay that works well with the skins and wild ale base.

This is a sweet sassy gem with a sticky sense of shameful reproach when the glass is gone.

M: Again, there is an intense, huge crisp dryness. The mouthfeel seems like it’s an intense merlot with oak to round it out. It’s tough to determine exactly how thin or thick this beer is because the coating is so acrimonious. IT’S SUCH A DEEP BURN, OHHH DEEP SQUATS WITH SICK BOUNCING BETTIES, SICK DEAD LIFT FINISH BROMOROSA.

Raspberry deliciousness. TARGETS ACQUIRED.

D: This is an incredible experience with crazy highs and low to it. This is not a figure of balance, nor does it do anything in moderation. It is impossible not to recommend this exceptional beer to others. Clearly, it is not meant to be enjoyed as a sesssion beer and should be treated accordingly. The taste is so amazing that it is hard to knock it for adhering to a certain style so well. Overall it is incredibly bitter and juicy and I am left wanting more.

This amazing raspberry gem is a sign of cognition and awareness to come. FUCKING BREADCATS PEOPLE.

Narrative: The train of her ostentatious gown dragged upon the split staircase with wanton disregard for anyone walking near her. After all, there were plenty of tailors within her Parlor and weekly soirees that would readily repair any damage. Somehow Countess Brioche sought more than just the exploitation of the endearing faces of the working classes. She sought their unending love. Notwithstanding, her acerbic parents brought her up to speak her mind truthfully and freely at all times, no matter how scathing. “Oh-oh-oh!” The Duchess of Piedmont fell down two stairs to her knees upon the rich velvet of Countess Briochess’s train. “Your steps lack precision due to the mass pressed upon them.” Mme. Brioche commented and felt a slight pang at her ejaculation. It wasn’t fair to cut others so deeply with such a bitter acerbic purity. Somehow, in this acidic repartee, others saw themselves, and their own shortcomings, despite the caustic burns they received. Countess Brioche looked upon a bustling courtyard of servants who despised her, but respected her stinging candor.

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Lost Abbey Red Poppy, Red Poppy be Throwing up B’s Reppin’ Flanders Red Sourblood Crew in the Trap

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Ah I remember last year’s Red Poppy, a reasonable $13.99 or something at the brewery, maybe even more. Well things haven’t changed much price and distribution wise, but let’s see if this old Redface has any new tricks up its sleeve this year, aside from a Tek 9 and a 64 impala.

Getting things red poppin off, man, the puns aren't working tonight.

Lost Abbey, Red Poppy, Flanders Red, 5.5% abv

A: This is darker than I remember from last year’s foray. There’s very little amber or ruby hues and almost a deep crimson that light cannot pass through. It’s like the black stuff from Pirates of Dark Water, if anyone remembers that shit. There’s a very subtle ruddiness to the center of it but it is largely almost a deep brown murkiness. The frothy carbonation is like lemon meringue all ready to take me to the candy shop.

I gladly paid $15.99 for this bottle with fond memories of last year, jokes, bonhomie, barrel kisses

S: There’s a fresh cut strawberry zest with a cherry note to it. This also has an air to it similar to red flavored candy, red candy anything, well except maybe Red Raspberry Dollars, but that candy sucks ass. A mild vinegar aspect gets up in the mix and starts dry humping the olfactory zone with an acerbic disposition.

T: The taste is much simpler and to the punch than I recall from previous outings. It winds up with a nice tart Skittles haymaker, transitions into a cherry tannin taste with some nice oakiness closing up shop and then, that’s it. It is over as fast as you can read this sentence. There is a lingering tartness similar to a currant but the whole affair is over far too quickly, like when you order a private dance and they use the cross fader when there’s still like 40 seconds left of Tony Rich Project. No one else? Ok cool.

I was expecting the tart comedic stylings of Fred Flintone, and then this guy showed up at my birthday party.

M: The mouthfeel has a sharp bite at the outset that subsides into a mellow juiciness that almost seems nutritional by way of contrast to most of the garbage I usually put in my body (beers specifically, not objects.) It washes away gently and I almost forget that I took a sip by the time I want to take another sip. It’s like Deep Blue Something – Breakfast at Tiffanys, it’s so benign that you can shop for slacks in the grocery store without even realizing you are draining $15.99 almost instantly.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable but for all the wrong reasons. I don’t think it is on style for Flanders Reds to be going apeshit and tearing my mouth up like Cal Trans workers, but this is as one dimensional as a fashion student. Much like an awkward Bucca Di Beppo date, you forget about it sooner than you should, and there’s a mild family style disappointment on your palate. The cherry is good, the sour patch goodness is rad, but the swift nature in which this pricey bottle is done leaves something to be desired.

It remains entirely unclear to me, on a Mudkips level, as to why last year's version of this beer was incredible and this year's version is closer to the R-word (rhymes with scrodenbach)

Narrative: “Ok and frame up to a half body shot and, CUT it’s a wrap!” the crew looked on in amazement at Cerise Michael, master director at work. His style was innovative and bold to a fault. His minimalist films had gotten shorter and shorter until, his latest project was a series of 5 shots that had a run time of 94 seconds. Still, people flocked to the theater to see what shocking new revelation that he had committed to cellulose acetate. The recent project was a series of shots of a mailman delivering packages, some starwipes to ducks wearing ties, and finally a sustained 12 second shot of a Seattle garbage dump. Masterful. Local theaters had revolving doors installed so that patrons could purchase bulk tickets and imbibe the tart glory over and over, 94 seconds of complexity at a time. Some pundits argued that a concentrated burst of complexity could use some elaboration, suffice it to say, CERISE MICHAEL COMPROMISES FOR NO ONE.