OWA Brewery, Ume Lambic, Just When you Thought I was PLUM OUT of Lambic Reviews

April 2, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

On this one episode of Tailspin, Kid Cloudkicker jumps out of a plane with a bag of table salt and pours it into the clouds. The result is that it starts raining due to a chemical reaction with the salt and the cumulus clouds.

I don’t know how to science but, in today’s review I am going to make it rain on these tickers with a 100 bottle lambic release from the Pajizzzotenland.

YMCMB MAYBACH MUSIC MUSTARDONTHEBEAT.

Gotta have some srs plums to go after obscure Japanese lambic.

OWA Brewery SPRL
Brewed at Brouwerij De Troch
Style: Lambic Style – Fruit
Bruxelles, Belgium
5.5% Abv

100 bottle release

A: This beer presents with a bit darker hue than I anticipated but also doesn’t really have any fuschia or magenta from the ume tannins- OH WAIT, that’s probably because ume looks like this you ignorant fuck:

peach pears plums I am inches

so the carb comes out in soapy bubbles you could count individually and rises up to an eggshell collar that subsides pretty quickly but, nothing too apeshit, all things considered. There is insubstantial lacing and the legs are watery with minimal cling. The center of this beer is very inviting, got that amber meets wulfenite sort of glow to it. Google wulfenite and leave me the fuck alone.

Time for a trip to Japan or…Belgium. wait fuk

S: This is a tasty treat for the old face holes. At the outset you get a light sweetness like lemon meringue that subsides into a citrus acidity akin to a tangelo, there is a touch of musk and cheesiness that is almost like topsoil/silt, it closes with a zesty Sierra mist lime that is ultra inviting. It’s like when the woman is all on them satin sheets running her hand in a small circle and YOU WAKE UP ON THE METRO WITH A VISIBLE ERECTION OH GOD DAMN IT.

T: This takes the foregoing Sprite and tangerine aspects and ratchets them up to levels that can only be described as “mid to extremely trill.” The first swallow is a 160 bpm trap beat that cascades sweet, brackish, then tart in those waves. You get this opener kinda similar to lime lucas, if you grew up in a Hispanic neighborhood. It subsides into a sweet honeysuckle and grapefruit pith bitterness. Finally the closer comes out and it tightens up the game with a sort of “aged Printemps” sort of lemon-lime feel to it. It is never exceedingly sweet, and remains drinkably tart, yet has this bitterness like citrus rind to keep everyone in check. It could use a touch more from the attic fairy, but I imagine that will come with time, as will I.

The malts are restrained and take on a new, equally amazing form

M: This has a bit more heft than I would want out of a fruited lambic, but never drags deep into that honey coating too aggressively. It is dry but balanced by a light sweetness along the gumline that combos into the next sip like Glacius. Alright people complain my references are too obscure, you want to know who the fuck Glacius is?

There you go. That’s Glacius, do you even Killer Instinct?

He is excellent at ground-air combos. Alright can we get back to the fucking review? Ok so take that lemon lime and add a bit of acidity, not much, but say in the realm of a young 3F Kriek, just enough to keep the blue vein pumping. It is fully satisfying.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable with the caveat that you keep it under 55 degrees. The honey and sweet aspects closer to room temp make the sweetness a bit heavy handed when it gets warm but, what the fuck is wrong with you, letting 100 bottle Japanese lambics get all hot you insensitive asshole? All in all, a very good lambic likely unlike any other offerings you have tried. I guess you could mix 2006 Doesjel with 2006 Printemps and get a similar, less bright execution. In fact, go do that, report back to me. I posted a pic of this in a Facebook beer group all warming up my rotator cuff thinking I was about to serve up a backdoor breaking ball on some tickers. People had zero fucks to spare, too bust doling out Likes for KBS pictures. But that is part of the reason why you are here, and not fingering your dickhole talking to some anti-In Bev noob. We have the same issues. The type of beer drinkers who seek out this type of shit are not the ones who review Hopslam by reading the label in present progressive tense “”getting hoppy, getting malts, getting yeast, getting water, getting Bell’s, getting Michigan. getting…a guy with a hop cone on him…getting barcode…”

You expect some naughty funk but get some citrus loving instead.

Narrative: Tetsuo Otomo was the most esteemed botanist in all of Kyoto and his scientific renown brought inquiries from across the globe. Upon the behest of the European Union, Mr. Otomo traveled to the Senne Valley to analyze the ground-water table and its effects on the local fauna. “Hmm…ish a nooo good,” he noted in a borderline offensive accent “glound tabre has too much a sart! Need nitrogen frixation, lower minelal crontent.” The group of Belgian geologists nodded and took copious notes. Mr. Otomo returned to Brussels shortly thereafter and engineered a super strain of Japanese Plum that would convert the atmospheric nitrogen into ammonia at an alarming rate. The process drastically boosted the presence of the diazotrophs, creating a super flora in the classic valley. Soon even the mildest glass of kolsch exposed to the air became an acidic wild ale, almost instantly. German tourists brought kegs and kegs of tepid wit biers over in droves to contaminate and vastly improve their pedestrian ales. Tetsuo had solved a problem with plums, but created a larger one by way of ignorant assholes from abroad.

DOUBLE RUSSIAN RIVER WHALE REVIEW: Toronado 20 and Deviation, At the same damn time

February 25, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

In honor of everyone rubbing their yeastclits on their bedposts over Plineyyy the Yerngerrrr, I figured I would finally knock out reviews for two of the white whale Russian River bangers: T20 and Deviation. One was a one off brewed in 2007 for Toronado, another was a one off brewed in 2009 for Bottleworks. One is still delicious, another one tastes like if you left Consecration in a Toyota Corolla in Tucson for 3 months. WHICH IS WHICH? We find out in today’s whaley review.

Oh shit, if you feel like reading about other SUPER RUSSIEN RIVER RARIEITIES, check out this Russian River Depuration review or if you just joined the beer game in 2012, here is a review of Pliney the Younger for you to stroke it to, since you are probably still in your hophead phase

That is Depuration, I just left it in the cooler next to some silver bullets for a couple months.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 6.83% ABV (dat hundredths place value hnnnggg)

In celebration of Bottleworks 9th Anniversary, we are proud to present Deviation – a beer unique in every sense. This remarkable blend combines the oak aged diversity of PHI, Orphan Ale, and Sonambic Ale with 100% Brettanomyces Ale (Sanctification) and is bottle conditioned with additional Brettanomyces. Thanks Vinnie. Your beer is a testament to the art of deviation. 6.83%

Your buddy probably opened a T25 at one of your tastings and thought he was hard as fuck, putting up 8 plates, flexing wild ale lats on offshelf zumba tickers.

Toronado 20th anniversary
abv 10.4%

The Toronado blend was 5 different beers blended together disproportionately:

1. Belgian style Quadruple aged in Firestone Walker (used) Double Barrel Ale barrels
2. Belgian style Strong Dark Ale – batch A in red wine barrels
3. Belgian style Strong Dark Ale – batch B in red wine barrels
4. Belgian style Pale Ale aged in wine barrels with Brett
5. Sonambic 100% spontaneously fermented ale – this was used to add acidity to the beer.

A: Let’s just get this out of the way right now, T20 is starting to get those oxy stretch marks on its thighs, looking a bit turbid and muddy in its old age, that wispy carb still holding up, albeit oldman strong. The robey tones are still intact over all these years, but it has seen better days. Deviation still looks fucking beautiful and has a certain grace and coquettish radiance that makes it more lustworthy than even fresh bottles of Temptation. The carb held up beatuifully and there was light lacing at the edges showing its virile life still pumping deep in those acidic veins. These pics suck shit because I didn’t feel like setting up a lightbox for some neckbeard enjoyment. I do this site as a favor to the boring ass beer world and tickers should be thankful I haven’t moved on to POV porn at this point.

Pictured above, the last 21 person tasting T20 was opened at

S: The t20 is still intensely acidic with cranberry, currant, red wine tannins, merlot, huge acidic blackberry cab and a oaky musk. The musk is delivered in equal parts with a touch of oxygenation that is mildly cloying, but its too fucking big to be held down, like trying to spot your buddy who presses more than you squat, them tannic shreds throb hard and move weight. Deviation is a fucking intensely bright acid flashbang to the face. Take Zomer and ramp up the acidity, that lemon rind, cantaloupe, pears, musky brett, intense Slush Puppy acidity like a lemon lime detonation to the senses. It smells phenomenal albeit completely overboard, not in an acetic fashion, just aggressive in every aspect, zero hint of oxy or age on this. S.S. Indefatigable just sailing them seas with a proud ph2 stern.

sometimes things from the past return only to fuck your world up

T: T20 is a fucking disappointment top to bottom. That is not to say that it isn’t worth drinking, I mean, it is still a competent and well blended beer. It’s more like seeing that late 30s bartender who is all salty and jaded and you can imagine what a Kelly Kapowski dime piece she used to be. This was probably a complex decadent treat, now the oxy sets in like crows feet making it seem like a dysfunctional Consecration. There is currant and tart cherry but again, it is like a coovie of some old ass bottles of Rodenbach. Deviation is a vast departure from this model and holds up like those 1960’s Ferraris that are still graceful and will land you knee deep in the vaj. The lemon and intense oak, chardonnay, anjou pear, hay, old storage locker, and amped up Goozie notes. One of the best American Wild Ales that I have ever tasted this side of DDG and Cable Car 09.

bragging about drinking rare bottles of sugar water? Alpha detected.

M: T20 is still a massive beast, drying with an intense dryness that gushes like that fourth week of Lilith Fair. It is both hefty in mouthfeel and closing, but has a sort of dry depth to it that makes it incredibly drinkable. The ABV slides up behind your palate with a prison shank and puts in work on the bitter zones. Deviation is intensely dry, no reparations are given, antebellum south destruction to your gumline and tart zones. Go watch a Ken Burns documentary and eat an entire bag of Shocktarts and you will know the depths of the cankersores this can cause. Despite the rampant abuse, I come back for more, it’s like when I got all into cock fingering that one summer, all stretched out in self effacing pleasure.

Thinking about landing one of these? Prepare to deal with some shit and shit accessories

D: T20 is incredibly drinkable, albeit slightly lackluster. I can’t really condone trading for this other than showing your thick meaty trader labias, dropping meat curtains on your tasting crew, those rare 2007 folds all weathered and undesirable. Tickers gonna tick. Deviation however, holy hell it is intensely delicious, amazing top to bottom, well worth the cost of entry and, most importantly, I cannot think of any readily available analog to this unique beast. Seek this out if you can, rally all those bottles of Backyard and Petit Mutant you can rally and cast them upon the funeral pyre with calm suttee to join your tastebuds in the afterlife. It is dro as fuck, red hairs, no stems no seeds, yayo weighed dry without being stepped on.

Narrative: read the foregoing 1000 words and finger your butthole in the shower with an Axe loofa.

reviewing them nostalgic old whale ticks, high off that juice

1996 Rodenbach Alexander, Keeping Teenagers in the Cellar and Exploiting them Years Later

August 24, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Let’s just get this out of the way: this is the best Flanders Red that I have ever had. There I said it. Rodenbach Caracterie Rouge was fucking amazing. And Teeeeechnically Oude Tart with Cherries isn’t a Reeealll flanders, right? Even with qualifiers, this is the fucking best flanders out there. Even with close to two decades on this bad bitch it still wilds out, hair in corn rows, shopping at Charlotte Russe not giving a fuck.

This used to be on the white whale list but SpeedwaleJim in his infinite wisdom decide that T25 was more sought than this fucking incredible blast from the past. Go figure.

This teenager is dope because he doesn’t listen to One Direction bullshit.

Brouwerij Rodenbach N.V. visit their website
Belgium
Flanders Red Ale | 5.00% ABV

A: This is class flanders, flandiddidly for sheeze. Popping those ::sigh”” robey tones are like that magical moment when the bills cascade above the laquered floor and the exotic dancer elects to clap those red bottoms. Tickers go hard for those red bottoms. With 17 years on this bitch, still foam, still cream, still cling, still putting commas in the bank. I don’t know what else you could really want when you see shit like this standing tall doing 15 to life still not getting shanked. Fucking beautiful beer, not muddy, not faded on that oxidation tip, but you could crush up that oxy and let Alexander work his 8oz magic.

This beer is a great listener.

S: God damn this is straight cherries on cherries, even my cherries got cherries. This is maraschino at first but then evolves into an acidic flame and screams like Bieber fans. There is oak, a light dryness, a tangy sweetness like Fruit by the Foot, some red 5 pimpin, earthy and a tad splash of vinegar notes but nothing off-putting. Shirley temple for days on that Littlest Rebel mix. Drop your glow sticks and tongue kiss that Honduran chick rolling hard on molly eating those cherry jolly ranchers, get on that Alexander game.

Dropping holy judgment.

T: This is phenomenal in the way it balances a legit cherry sweetness without being sucrets, and a tartness without being an overpowered acid bomb. This wouldn’t talk to the cops, take the charge and still take the years for you holding up hard with the cherries in tow. The oak is legit, it is a bit dry but also has that great tannic presence to round shit out with another level of complexity like a C plot in a Family Matters episode. Some 3J shit.

M: This is sticky but lightly dry at the same time, the cherry is RIP straight rest in pussy. For this many years, it is insane that it has held up this well and the carb is a lil Crystal Geyser crackle like sparkling water that keeps delivering after all this time. Rodenbach keeps that AK on the nightstand shooting out with modern day Flanders letting shells drop. There is a finishing creaminess that coats the back with gentle bubbles like jacuzzi’s at Coachella.

D: This is insuling. How drinkable was this fucking 25cl white wale? I can’t even begin to address this. My erection was visible throughout drinking this bottle, the dogs present were uncomfortable. This has cherries, oak, splishy splashy juciness and keeps you wanting more. I can’t think of an analog to it, which should make sense given its age and pedigree. Again, seek it out but do us all a favor and put your Cherry Rye shit away, the real men are talking.

Better ask someone.

Narrative: She sat there day after day, painting landscapes in the Garden at Giverny. Her flowing red gown seemed ill at east in the summer breeze, yet inviting. Each day you would feign the pretence to visit the shores of the recending lakeline, prod about in the muck while wondering what the glowing red countenance had to offer. The air was redolent with bluebell that fateful day you crushed the poppy flowers and closed the distance. So sweet in demeanour you introduced yourself, and were treated to a laundry list of compound curse words that would make a Press Gang blush. So sweet in appearances and introduction, you could take your new baroness anywhere, to the Salons, to the racetrack, to Tinpenny alley to bet on cockfights. She was your patient, yet offensive muse. She likened your grandmother’s face to pachyderm ankles, but you dont care, you love the sweet and the sour that she presents. Your calm demeanor is not enough to introduce yourself: YOU NEED A BALLER ASS MATERIA. You need materia hidden in snow for years, aged to perfection. That smug french asshole, we will see how she feels after you summor the raw power of ALEXANDER.

25 hour tutorial? fuck you.

2009 Southampton Berlinerweiss, 150 Bottle Whale Slaying for the low ABV haterzzz

July 30, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Damn son, has it come to this? Fucking around with that 2% piece like a baller ass Derringer with one up in the chamber. So this one last came out 4 years ago in a massive 150 bottle release. Most people stroking it to King Henry or having nocturnal emissions about CBS don’t even know what the fuck this bottle is. This site isn’t for them. For those of you who actually appreciate this 2% choad, you will how know deep this satisfies due to the girth. Let’s give the fucking 2012ers a second to Google this and become Berliner experts for a moment.

Alright, lets go.

The 40’s of this release are where they really hit their stride. Try to trade for those ones.

Southampton Publick House
New York, United States
Berliner Weissbier | 2.00% ABV

A: This looks like pure sunlight and running through a field of cattails on a warm summer day. The carb was perfect and crackled in wispy foam that hung around like a bottle of Sprite mixed with some pineapple Fanta. Amazing radiance to the center and it just feels refreshing to look at, suddenly being underwater on your mortgage and living in shitty ass Kansas doesn’t seem so bad once you have this Berliner.

Things dont get more uplifting and likable than this beer.

S: This is a lemon bomb that again pushes the Sprite envelope with some faint haint, light musk akin to a sort of brackish aspect and a gentle saltiness. Insert hot rope joke here, and move on. This again has a light tartness to it and the acidity is more like a chaperon than the prom king.

T: This is so damn gentle and refreshing with the watery lemon aspect, wheaty backbone that is thinner than Keira Knightley. Again the acidity is a soft pat on the shoulder and serves to buttress the faint lemonhead mixed with water. The musk is super subtle and this is made to be crushed with a swiftness. A sort of Stevia sweetness closes out this banger and begs for another sip.

Took a pull off this Berlinerwale and couldnt even believe how crisp and clean it was

M: This is so. damn. thin. I can’t even communicate how crisp and refreshing this is to drink. You would put this in a waterbottle and go on a 30 mile ride on your Trek you fucking yuppie. This is lightly sweet and faintly tart, nothing is overdone but nothing is really done either. It is ethereal and feels like something you would drink if lost in the desert or while getting your cock pierced at Burning Man. Uplifting.

D: Off the fucking charts in drinkability, this beer is. The fact that this is a whale is tragic and no other beers in this realm come close in execution and balance. I loved the New Glarus Berliner, this is some Radio Rahim shit though, inimitable. You can squint your tastebuds while drinking Hottenroth but it still just isn’t even close. I could crush this by the case and still make it to my job at the Golden Corral carving station. You can be irresponsible as fuck with this beer and still have a modicum of responsbility. If they served this at AA, the meth users would be happy and perhaps a few less kids would get this asses kicked for leaving their bikes in the driveway. We can only dream.

When I finally got to try this, my face be all like

Narrative: “SIIIIICK ELIMINATOR BROTORCH!” Ah shit, they brought this guy again, god damn Tevin Jacobs. “Ahhh can’t wait to load this up with sick girls, grills, shots, schwaaaazeeeee-” Tevin began twisting lemons into a blender, making his salty sweet potation to refresh everyone present. He’s is trailing off again with what is debatably not even a real word. Why do they always bring this guy around? He is so irritating. “And THEN I WAS ALL LIKE this-” Oh great, now he is grinding all over my dad’s speedboat. He is offensive and I see him so infrequently but that drink he whips up makes it all worthwhile. The lemons and limes get all these women so relaxed. They always say he’s great to have around at parties but just a few minutes of this Tevin and I am already sick of him. “SO I ALWAYS TELL CHICKS LIKE OK THINK ABOUT IT, you could never get PREGNANT ON ANOTHER PLANET BECAUSE THE gravity is all different, it would straight pull it down and-” Jesus, the refreshing motjito is hard to justify, but makes me feel refreshed around this asshole. I just, I can’t sit here and listen to this butchering of science. “Yo bro, can you hit me with a Michelob Ultra? Tryna hit up the gym sitch later!”

@santeadairius West Ashley, This Beers Gets More Tickers off Than Cochran

July 5, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Alright so changing gears from a Vermont 300 bottle release, let’s peep game on this 300 bottle pre-wale from the west coast Hill Farmstead. Sante Adairius is a hot new brewery running the trap, slanging farmhouse ales, and dropping low bottle count beatdowns on the trade boards. Also, their product is 99.3% pure, that all blue Jesse Pinkman blend. So in today’s review we have a rare+saison+apricot+wildale+unzip pounding things out without remorse. Bay area kids were hella stoked on this and clutch them for good reason, this beer sets my apricots ablaze with careless abandon.

No filter. Srs. Just look at the inside of Marcellus Wallace’s briefcase.

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.30% ABV

A: This is that goon shit, mess up your whole afternoon shit. Just take a look at that burning fireball above, it is like looking directly into Beatrice while in paradiso. That isn’t a play on words because Beatrice may or may not be the base beer for this, it is just that radiant and melts your impure soul to take in those bright orange/tangerine/pure sunlight. The wispy carbonation crackles away like a piccolo pete and leaves no real lacing to speak of, but who is really speaking of lacing anyway? If you said grade A microcock beer nerds, you are correct.

If you are ever feeling down, lil Westy Ash will come through and puck you hard, but gently.

S: This reminds me of Logsdon Oak Aged Bretta scissoring Beatification’s thighs raw with a musky funk, tart apricot meets Fou Foune’s effeminate brother. The acidity doesn’t get in the way and you get this watery dog groomer’s air about it that the fruit supports nodding in the background on a 2/4 beat. There isn’t a ton of cheesiness or elements in the way of Cantillon/De Cam/Boon, nor is the acidity as harsh, but this is its own jam. Selfmade millionaire wild ale poppin that .45 acidity at haterzzz.

T: This is the absolute perfect beer for summertime. Take that floral/tart aspect from Ithaca Brute and add some apricot tannins and you have a massively drinkable beer that doubles as titty elixir for Yacht parties since this beer is balling outrageous. The tartness doesn’t go overboard and instead serves to compliment the hay/leather dryness, it wilds the fuck out like Bobby Bouchet. The fruit again is just mindblowing and links arms in the same realm as Fantasia (batch 1, not that brett bomb b2) Peche n Brett, Persica, and to a lesser extent, Fou Foune.

This new banger straight drops the mic on the AWA game.

M: This is drying at the outset with the apricot leading first but it has this murky waterines to it that washes so clean it leaves a sweet apricot life saver flavor that lingers and not unlike a Brazzer’s actor, you gotta get your mouth on it once more. I could crush these without remorse, the apricot jury would deem me an unsympathetic Ashley mass murderer. I love the careful tartness because it allows the underlying saison elements (which are fantastic) to show off in a manner more approachable and ultimately satisfying than say, Upland Peach, which is the acidity show in execution.

D: To double down on everything else that I have mentioned, this is scary drinkable and the ABV is not only present but this beer straight up feels GOOD for you. Like you conscience wouldn’t kick in drinking this before a funeral or a classy bris. The jamba juiciness keeps things lively but the oaky dryness lets you know the refined MILF will also enjoy this as well, inbetween her sips of Yellow Tail Moscato. Get this, actually dont, I need more, so don’t seek this out. Don’t ruin this shit for the rest of me.

This beer is original, vibrant, and fucking mind blowing

Narrative: Life at the Behr paint supply store was a mile a minute. Sure there was the time that they accidentally mixed turpentine with the eggshell, making the ignominious muted halogen color, completely off style but mindblowing nonetheless. Yes sir, Ashley West had seen it all in her duties as overseer of the interior vibrant tones division of Behr paints. It was her sworn duty to ensure that no paint scheme stood as too far fetched or offputting. Nothing escaped her trained penchant for searingly bright colors. If she saw a mild yellow that struck hier as too explosive, she’d be the first one to take it down a couple notches to a sublimely genial canary tone. For Ashley, life was all about the Golden Mean, in the Arisotelian sense, the paradigm of good taste. “Miss, do these sandstone swatches look appro-” “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Look at this, I’m sorry, where are we the Luxor casino? You need to mute these down to C11H14 palate, we don’t run some kind of funhouse, you can take these monstrocities down to Tempera paints Mr. Jackson Pollack if you feel like expressing yourself on my KHAKI WATCH!” Another solid day of work for Ashley West.

2011 Horal’s Oude Gueuze Megablend, Composition Fallacy Pounding up in them Guts

May 16, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

I won the fuck out of this trade. I sent a couple of bottles of my homebrewed persimmon Lambic Pediobear and got this amazing beer in return. Etan hooked me up huge with this one, super serious.

For the uninitiated, working through geuze blenders, actual brewers, barrel houses, and De (x=whateverthefuck) is a difficult process. Sometimes you end up with dank shit, other times it is Timmerman’s disguised waiting to spring that $22 trap on your wallet. Most people don’t fuck around and stick to the old 3F, Tilquin, Loonz, but sometimes you put your dick in the oude gueuze glory hole and get some acrimonious treat.

The Mega Blend Geuze is a blend of young and old Lambic from eight HORAL members (3 Fonteinen, Boon, De Cam, De Troch, Hanssens, Lindemans, Oud Beersel and Timmermans). The beer was specially produced for the occasion of the 7th edition of the Tour de Geuze, and again in the 2011 installment. I know what you are worried about, “I swear to fuck Lindemans better not ruin this shit for me, I am having a Pi Phi over tonight to watch the Notebook.” Well let’s see if this shit goes Mega on the Dr. Wily tip.

More Mashups Than a Girltalk Bootleg

Brewed by Brouwerij F. Boon
Style: Lambic – Gueuze
Lembeek, Belgium
7% abv

A: This has that classic radiant orange to it and certainly is greater than the sum of its parts because I have seen some shitty looking De Cam (flat as a sack of placenta) and some even worse Hanssens (murkier than a Kyle XY subplot.) The look makes me believe that those 3F boys had a hand in this with Boon but, appearances can be deceiving. The carb is nice but not some massive gusher, the lacing is largely abated by the acidity but it is still elegant.

No composition fallacy here, shit is better than the sum of its parts. Damn levels detected.

S: This is musky and gives the smell of oranges, lemon rind, acidity couples with rainy day bicycle seat funk. There is a certain wet compost aspect to this like dewy leaves along with the grapefruit and ph1 madness taking place. This will put your olfactory on the ground faster than Diddy’s bodyguard gets ripped out of a Maybach. That fast.

T: Again this is a strange Voltron of all these geuzezes, you get the muskiness imparted that smacks of deep age and light oxidation, some gentle persimmon sweetness that is quickly pushed out of the way to embrace tangelo, kumquat, tart tiny apricots, and a kind of green apple finish. Put your brewer master bible down you limpdicked diacetyl asshole, no one is talking to you.

M: This is incredibly dry like a super oaked chardonnay and just rips the fuck out of your jawline. If yo have ever undergone ZOOM whitening, you will know the depths of this jimmy rustling. There is a bit of a brackish finish that welcomes the next punishing sip, and I am down for the pound like Jason Collins, oh shit, too soon for those jokes? Alright, pretend I reference Rob Kardashian being a fat entitled Armenian fuck or something.

Pop this bottle at a tasting, show everyone you are beta as fuck.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable despite its acrimonious character. I put up with the hard times because the good times are so good, like fucking a Suicide Girl, you know in the end you may lose your friends and parents respect, but you keep hitting it. I would recommend this to anyone who isn’t a complete pussy, which rules out a large segment of the beer community, those who are left are either lumberjacks or don’t even drink gueuze so it will be a tough sell. Here’s a test to see if you should drink this beer, lean forward to your compute screen, if your tits are currently supported by the desk, you need to do some p90 and leave this shit alone.

If you open this, you probably believe you are some kind of gueuze hero, but people know what you really are.

Narrative: David Yost looked out over the Baltimore skyline and slipped his middle-aged face into the tight fitting azure helmet. Throughout the early-90’s children knew him only as the sophisticated blue ranger. He was mercilessly harassed by producers, but they obviously did not know who they were fucking with. Beneath the cool demeanor was a man capable of evoking a mechanical triceratops and conjuring the imagination of millions. Perhaps his perpetually matching garb and needlessly science driven banter was too much for some, but FOX could fuck right off. David slid down a drain pipe and worked his way stealthily amongst the west end projects. The feel of the cool vinyl on his skin was liberating and let him know that, despite his age, he was still a hero to many. His depth and complexity was laudable beyond the mere zord that he contributed the critical mass. Upon witnessing a hand to hand drug transaction David Yost kicked a Baltimore youth in the stomach with a swift roundhouse. The 16 year-old dropped on his Jnco jeans and David felt like he was battling Putties again, only this time with a real purpose. The vials of crack cocaine scattered and some Southpole clad youth could not believe that a white man in a blue costume was kicking the shit out of drug dealers with poise and careful dignity. As the thugs scattered David removed his helmet and bit into a ripe kumquat from the local bodega. The memory of his fallen Yellow Ranger, Thuy Tran, resonating like acid in his heart.

1991 De Neve Gueuze, A Beer That Is Older Than Your Girlfriend, sicko.

February 11, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Finally DDB is getting back down to business and reviewing old ass beers, walez, Mr. International fedex player with a passport. In today’s review we review a 22 year old musky banger from across the pond. When this beer was brewed, you probably were like 6 years old, pre-pog phase, maybe you were starting to get hella into Nirvana and mainlining heroin, who am I to judge? Bust out those Anchor Blue jeans for this barely legal review.

Aint nobody tryna fuck with some ode ass beer. Actually everyone is.

De Neve Gueuze
Belgium 5.2%
Likeyougiveafuck

A: Straight out of the gates, this asshole gets all AARP on you and slowly and gently lays itself into the glass like a warm easy chair for some episodes of Matlock. It has this turbid aspect that gives off this dull brown aspect with dark yellowing at the edges like costume jewelry that your nana loves to wear in the bath. The carbonation is there, but just barely, also like your nana.

If you are old to the beer game, you probably never tried his, if you are a 2012 n00b, you probably offered up a Cherry Rye for this. Fuck everyone.

S: This has a beautiful acidic lactic profile but it is covered on cobwebs, horse barn musk, I get a bunch of orange/tamarindo aspects but again, the old paper meets sex attic is overwhelming. This isn’t as musky as OLD ASS BRABANTIAE but it is a page out of that same playbook. Some people search 50+ on Zoosk, some people like this kinda shit, get your shine on.

T: This follow through with a big acidic and lactic profile, no signs of offputting oxidation which is shocking, all things considered. There is a melon wrapped in cardboard aspect to this, and I don’t know if seeking out a 1991 gueuze and saying “past its prime” even makes any fucking sense because, you ordered the sex swing, you mounted it, now you are mad because people are judging you? This is truly original and makes me wonder what the fresh version tasted like, because the brett and musk aspects have taken to dominate this beer, like in Back to the Future II when Biff takes over. Maybe you like musk and old comic books covered in juice. Papercut your dickhole. See if I care.

M: This is both dry, thin, and yet expansive and vaporous due to the musk and funk that this beer presents. Again, this is like going to antique stores or running your hands over a bunch of polyester clothes in a thrift store. It is awesome and novel but feels a little dirty. You come home with some stupid tin signs and are edified as a result.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I could put away a 750ml and not even share like a complete asshole. However, with full disclosure, it was either this beer or the 2 orders of XXL Nachos that I ate, but I got massive deuces. Some could say that the records were subpoenaed, even. This will tear up your guts like Peter North. Listen for it. That is the sound of my readers googling Peter North, now that is the sound of HR calling them into the conference room.

You can be old as hell, but still enjoy things, even if you will grow up to be a murderous waterhorse.

Narrative: Clarence Masterson had seen quite a few things in his day. It wasn’t just that he was old, God knows he was, however in 1991 he got on a spaceship with Fred Savage. Most people know this autobiographical documentary as Flight of the Navigator, however, the unsung song of 11 year old Clarence is often overlooked. Clarence was a stowaway on the ship long after Fred Savage left. His body was accelerating faster than light, aging, yet in perpetual stasis. After a respite in the cosmos, Clarence landed in the distant year 2013, to find a world changed drastically. First and foremost, he was 33 year old at this point, yet still looked exactly like a 13 yar old boy. His urged to tax both young and old poon were unacceptable. He was an anomaly in a world of fast paced communication. Clarence was too old for the ear flicking hijinks of 7th grade, yet unable to pick up lot lizards at local bars. He read about a Youtube dwarf who experienced a similar problem, but even that was not the same. He longed to discuss Keynesian economics, but didn’t even have pubes. He was old and young at the same time, the tip of Zeno’s paradox perpetually cleaving his reality, forever alone and soured as a result.

Cantillon Crianza Helena, The Face that Launched a Thousand Shits. On Ebay.

December 19, 2012 | dontdrinkbeer

Cantillon one offs, just another Wednesday in this website, which is basically the perineum of the beer world. So let’s get tainted in today’s review. I remember someone told me the deal with this beer, something about a beer to celebrate someone’s daughter and special cognac barrels or something, but you don’t give a shit about that. You came for the labia jokes, and stay for the dick pix. Who am I to disappoint:

The sweet sound of beer nerd mantits slapping together as they pound their gamer keyboards in rage over not being able to have something. Serenity.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This is a standard affair for an oldish gueuze, it has a hazy orange construction paper/sawdust sorta aspect going on. The lacing was insubstantial and the carbonation wasn’t really that intense either. I guess you don’t go to gueuzes for their pretty looks, they are the battered, old barrel aged bretheren of the sour world, mistreated mistresses always not pressing charges, making up excuses for the carbonation and bugs therein.

At first it seems sour and acrimonius, but then it is approachable and gentle.

S: I was really looking for something to hang my hat on to point to in an attempt to differentiate this from other baller ass gueuzes. Personally, I think this is kinda a standard execution, just polished up a bit, you get the dead bodies of the pellicle forward in a musky sponge dipped in orange juice, lemon rind, straw, some light attic aspects, but not the insulation/pink shit, like the creaky wood. I have some creaky wood fo- (PENIS JOKE LIMIT EXCEEDED.DLL_err0r)

T: This is lactic as the day in Morris Illinois is long. Ask Alewatcher, he will tell you, long ass days there. You get some white grape but the really hard ripe ones that pucker your face, some muscat grape, super small not ready yet apricots that make you deuce during Swim PE, oak, and a touch of the sweetness from cognac. This is pretty similar to Oude Gueuze Vintage from 3F, but with a lil bit more musk and funk mellowed out with a light caramel sweetness from the cognac. Maybe it doesn’t, train a Black Chocobo, get kings of the round, fuck if I know.

I guess this is better with age on it. I will only have it once, so I can only speculate with regards to that person in red pants.

M: This is as dry as the discussions at Coachella and you don’t even have to listen to shitty Animal Collective to enjoy it. You get the crisp apple skin dryness that isn’t exactly acidity but it imparts this kind of lip smacking goodness. You know how old men always have that white stuff at the corners of their mouth and have to lick like 5 times to soak their mouths, it is like that, except you can’t buy this with your AARP card and you won’t be able to get away with saying borderline racist shit either.

D: This is pretty gentle and drinkable and I feel that the light sweetness is a nice touch to what is already a world class gueuze. I probably wouldnt/cant/impossible to get this again, so pressing my love handles against the glass and showing off makes this beer seem a bit underwhelming in retrospect, but that is relative to other massive walez on the infamous list. Seek it out for sheez, but don’t go turning tricks on Craigs List for it, the therapy will cost way moar.

Pop this open, get a glass, and get sour twisted with your friends.

Narrative: “Well boys, it is finally over, we did it,” Cabbage declared with a succinct statement, wiping a tiny tear of victory from his fur. He was a sweet Sea Otter who could be found regularly scampering through oak pieces or gripping tensely onto some driftwood, but tonight he was a leader. “The federal government tried to relocate us, put us otters in coastal habitats, I say YOU GO LIVE IN A COASTAL HABITAT SENATOR” he boomed to a group of sweet and outright adorable otters slowly turning in the tide. One otter banged a rock on an abelone to bring the meeting to order. “BUT WE ARE NOT DONE YET,” Cabbage splashed some water defiantly into the air, “OUR NEXT GOAL will be to spread our culture up the mouth of the Mississippi to reach the tolerant southern states and spread our culture of adorability to states that are inherently depressing!” The crowd clamored, unaware that Southern trappers had almost no regard for cute animals and amongst the worst public schools in the western hemisphere.

Russian River Toronado 25th Anniversary, Don’t Tell Me You Forgot Our Anniversary, Baby

September 17, 2012 | dontdrinkbeer

I feel like Toronados is the golden baby of the beer bar world. I swear that anytime that this place has an anniversary, bris, or restructuring of their corporate board, breweries find some damn reason to shower them with .rar walez. Alpine made a double batch of Nelson to celebrate and I MISSED OUT ON IT. But oh well, let’s see what Russian River has up their sleeve in today’s review.

Throw some 25’s on the whip, barrel blend is so sick.

T25
Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.75% ABV

Toronado 25th Anniversary Ale started out as six individual brews, each with their own personality, and all incorporating Brettanomyces and or micro-organisms. Once the barrel aging was complete, Russian River’s Vinnie Cilurzo and Toronado’s David Keene got together to create the final blend. To create its fine carbonation, we re fermented the Toronado 25th Anniversary Ale in this bottle. Spent yeast cells from a thin layer of sediment in the bottom of the bottle. Pour slowly, allowing the natural yeast sediment to remain in the bottle.

Blend:
4% Sonambic (barrel aged for 15 months)
16% Blonde Ale (barrel aged for 8 months)
36% Strong Pale Ale (barrel aged 12 months)
28% Ale Aged with Currants (barrel aged for 8 months)
12% Strong Dark Ale (barrel aged for 12 months)
4% Baltic Porter (barrel aged for 10 months)

A: See all that going on up there? The result is a translucent orange hue with mild wispy carbonation that crackles and disappears slowly. This isn’t a particularly BEAUTIFUL beer like say, Ithaca Brute, but it has its own subtle charms, like that snaggletoothed woman in accounts receivable who always holds the elevator for you.

This blend got mad swag, gangnam steeze to the fullest.

S: This has a fantastic lactic smell to it that reminds me of Hill Farmstead Norma, since almost none of my readers have had that I GUESS I HAVE TO SAY MORE. There are aspects of cherries, orange rind, currants, fuji apples, and grapefruit juice. I don’t think that the Baltic Porter is pulling mad weight in the barrel as it seems to be incredibly acidic.

T: This is incredibly tart with a sort of refined Red Bull sort of sweetness to it that works well with the acidic profile. While cold, this beer is kinda one dimensional in the way that Beatification is just a 2D sour, but once it hits around 60 degrees the 3D glasses come on in a real way and you get a huge crisp and bright panoply of tart fruits.

This beer will get you rolling so hard.

M: This is puckering and very dry similar to an aged Temptation, let’s say b4. You get the oak and some lingering harshness but it welcomes another sip. The carbonation crackles and hits that gumline hard like Kimbo Slice, and the barrel be wood like a baseball bat.

D: This is insouciantly dry and doesn’t give a fuck if you can’t handle the puckering profile but ultimately, like a 14 year old girl I keep returning for this beer’s affection. It has a car. Ultimately, I wish this was a regular release amongst the other regular “-tions” but given how complex it is, I UNDERSTAND. Taking this beer to a bar with beer nerds present is kinda like getting your clit pierced at Claire’s, no one is exactly mad, but everyone is curious as fuck what you are up to.

This beer is daunting but completely satisfying.

Narrative: I dont quite understand Jacob, why is it that everyone wants to fight you?” You roll your eyes and offer this explanation once again “Alright fine, I got the same name as 5 other though kids in school and my dad is an MMA fighter and my mom is a WNBA player, those two people got beat up nonstop.” A sour taste fills your mouth knowing the struggle that you have faced on a daily basis. He looks puzzled and you stare at the principal’s snowglobe of Alberta and try to form a different explanation. “Alright, it’s like this see, if you wanna define yourself, sometimes you gotta be the bad guy, do things no one else does, like fight the girls softball team all at once…you see….no? Ok, so I got the same name and two bad as-” “LANGUAGE JACOB” “ok so I got two tough parents, so to prove my dominance, I go around trying things no one else does, milk enemas, eating lightbulbs, you know guy stuff, trying to prove my worth.” The tightness in your neck turns into a light acidity in your stomach. You have something to prove. It became clear that your laundry list of exploits was not exactly carrying the day for Principal Schlegel. “Alright to prove I am the baddest kid in school with the two roughest parents, I am gonna have sex with that Alberta snowglobe, see?” “That’s not necessary, you are suspended, get out of my office Jacob.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. Cantillon Brabantiae, A Beer Born in 1989, Older Than Your Illegitimate Girlfriend.

September 13, 2012 | dontdrinkbeer

Well as if yesterday’s review didn’t push things to absurd new levels, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 1989. You read that right. This was brewed to commemorate a king of Brabant, or a governor, or maybe someone who bought a Chevy Nova in Belgium, I forget the story. Some epic shit happened and Jean Van Roy made this to commemorate that instance. Maybe someone beat Metroid without using the freeze beam and Jean was like “Well fuck all that, I am making a gueuze to make sure everyone knows this went down.” The problem is, not many people were getting their jimmies rustled in 1989 for this style of beer, relative to today. So let’s drink it now, and see what the fuck the business is.

The label has that Walking Dead sort of gothic charm to it, like you know it went through some shit just to be opened on a random weeknight in America.

BroBrah
Brasserie Cantillon
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This beer needed the ginger touch of a latter day saint and had the fickle cork like the hymen of a finicky prom date. It took a solid 10 minutes to ease that thing out and guess what, 23 years later, a slight hiss emitted and CARBONATION was present. I was seriously surprised. I mean, not enough to pull some Tony Stewart victory spraying all over some white trash people in the south, but admirable. My glass had tons of strange residue and floaties, oak, yeast, cork, god knows what. No lacing, no head, no stems no seeds no sticks.

A blast from the past, that is surprisingly modern.

S: This is hands down the most amazing part of this beer. This reminds me of summer nights walking through musky warm orchards in Fresno, the humidity and tool shed dankness just palpable in the air. You get leather, musk, worn bicycle seat, weightlifting gloves, and crushed leaves. That shit all sounds horrible but in tandem, it is like liquid nostalgia that puts you on your ass with reverence. Go right now, open your old comics or Magic the Gathering ca- oh, you played sports? Well why the fuck are you reading this website? Go do some sports shit, you’re still in shape right?

T: I guess everything in this review needs to be qualified by the fact that this beer is old enough to drink itself. HOW META IS THAT. Anyway, you get a nice sharp acidity that lingers for a moment and subsides into a massive funk like old laundry that imparts this tangelo zest and yearbook paper. It is like being sublimated INTO a piece of the past. It isn’t the best or brightest gueuze ever, but it seriously delivers on that haunting aspect of the past note. I didn’t get any oxidation or dead hand control on this beer, it was still very drinkable and delicious, but it did remind me of dancing to Tony Rich Project in 7th grade.

This is old, musky, and you know some tawdry things went down up in this mix. So much AIM cybering.

M: This was dry and extremely dirty, if that is an apt adjective. There was this entire memory lane aspect to this beer that could not be denied. You ever get caught cleaning your room and you suddenly are looking through all your old Wizards and Nintendo Powers and- oh no? WELL THEN GO DO SOME SPORTS SHIT. This site isn’t for you.

D: This is not drinkable on long sessions. Go to a lake and think about the hottest person you ever kissed, think about the worst, take a picture in sepia, watch a grainy VHS tape of yourself as a paradigm of vanity and try and reconcile that self interested mess with the current person that you have become. Look the past in the face and embrace the Hegelian historical dialectic.

Can you ever really make a 21 year old gueuze relevant to anyone? Only on this site.

Narrative: “ALLLLLRIGHT! We need to ramp up production ten fold for the next fiscal quarter!” The Belgian overlord boomed into the loudspeaker. The Belgian factory workers, sticky with pulp and apple skins could scarcely understand the need for this. Much. Produce. One thin worker began to sob into the sorting machine as he pulled defective granny smiths from the line. “Adelbrecht! Show fortitude! For how else will those who have mild vitamin C needs get their apples? Will they be supplicated with your tears my dear Adelbrecht?” He nodded and thrust his jaw forward and wiped the acidic juice from his face. Little did they know, all of these apples were not for eating, but fermenting. Their hours of tedious labor would be pureed into a slurry of wasted dreams for the swill of mass communication and sociology majors. The grist of their labor would be ground, not unlike their dreams, into a putrid mash to be consumed near rivers by reluctant underaged girls. Adelbrecht’s efforts would be in vain. The past had come full circle, the punishment of the future would be realized on a daily basis, unending, with disaffected prejudice.

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Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

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