Let’s Review 11 Danky wax dab IPAs 420 g13 purple kush this shatter piece fire fam LOL 69

OH SHIT shout out to all the 8th graders who read DDB, u must b supr excited 4 2day!! (420 SUH DUUUEEEEE)  So in totally predictable fashion, let’s review 11 IPAs and get blunted on those volcano R00R gravity B hits, Skyler’s mom is out of town LOL what a bitch!


Ah more random Texas ticks from Jase Hicks.  This was shockingly easy to crush and easily my favorite DIPA to enjoy in an elevator. The hop profile was like pulled weeds, smashed dandelion, and it was like they used 5x Saaz or some weird copious amount of low alpha acid hops in it.  It was easy to drink and had an almost european simplicity to the body akin to Kernel brewing.  Shit was deece.


Luponic Distortion was world’s better than I was expecting.  The usual Firestone verve embraces this overly malty, old AF double jack bottles, questionably expensive, UK meets Warrior hops fetish that is not my jam.  I saw a glimmer of hope with Easy Jack, but I can even more easily Jack it to this.  This is so so dialed in that it reminds me more of a Julian Shrago Beachwood special with that freshly waxed pubis cleanliness, finishes without any oily drag or pine cone residuals.  The nose and taste are gemini warriors presenting lightly aserose evergreen, but switching to a mango pith meets grapefruit.  I am sure the hops are all like EXP-114302948, in their pre-codename phase,  so that’s like knowing a band before anyone else, a beer for HOPSTERS amirite.


This beer from Russian isn’t an IPA but holy fuck was it horrible.  This may be the grossest misuse of the word “premium” in the history of the English language, or the slavic cultures take wide liberties with what a “premium” designation entails.  This is essentially Keystone Ice, with a full tablespoon of table sugar added.  So it has all the horrible corn and asparagus water you expect, with an underattenuated DME/Wort closer to ensure you will not be able to drink that much of it.  If you asked me to finish a bottle of this or watch Ride Alone 2 in its entirety, it would be a hard contemplated dilemma.


Melvin brewing.  Fucking finally.  I wanted to try these guys a half decade ago when they were some undercover operation called Thai Me Up, and the wait did not disappoint.  In a great irony, waiting for their offerings almost made it all the sweeter because they are still operating in late 2000s type of execution while the hop battlefield rages on in other segments.  This is one of those TIPAs that are alllllmost as good as Pliny the Younger in both drinkability and nuance.  It is a beast to wrangle with a huge luponic blast of cut lumber, crushed yard trimmings, yucca plant, and a flowery finish akin to jasmine.  This is no fruit bomb, this is straight up sawed plywood with a lightly fusel ethanol closer.  The carb is frothy and works well with this borderline too excessive TIPA.  You absolutely should check this beer out if you love things that operate in the massive hopped realm.


CRUSHIN CANS ON THE VENICE CANALS ELLLL AYYYYY LIFE BRUHHH. Nah but in all seriousness, I used to give Highland Park shit for their IPAs at the outset because they were toooooo fucking clean and attenuated, there was nothing left for those Ellis Island Oil Refugees to cling to.  This has markedly improved over the past year and their first canned offering shines amiably.  You get the incredibly thin body and corkboard drillability of their other offerings with the classic mosaic and citra one two rope a dope.  That hop combo almost seems like a cliche at this point, like industry buzzwords smashed together “NETWORKING SYNERGY” and shit.  But the beer itself is a gentle melon and cantaloupe with a ficus grass finish.  You don’t get the typical onion/chive thing that can occur with mosaic and you dont get the grapefruit pith from citra either, the whole thing feels refined and tasteful.  An incredible offering to have locally to be sure.


Holy fucking marketing gimmicks ahoy.  El Segundo has been clipping along and ekeing out their mastery of SoCal hops for years now and despite this being what appears to be a clear cashgrab (Steve Austin opened these during the WWE Massive Tumble stepstool match or something) it is actually a very solid beer.  This is as predictable as it gets: citra, chinook, cascade, which reads something like “My fourth homebrew attempt, THIS ONE WILL BLOW UR MIND!”  Thankfully it has a restrained maltiness and allows those old staples to interact in a way that is one part shallot and baby kale, and another part tangerine slices dipped in vape oil.  This beer is fine, but El Segundo clearly brewed this with the intent to displace some Natty Ice for “fancy AA degree beers” in the HOP 3:16 marketing demographic.  Can’t wait for the Goldberg Spear Dortmunder.


Of all the beers I am reviewing today: this beer is the fucking best.  Waldo’s Special Ale was a 4/20 exclusive, the Lagunitas answer to Pliny the Younger of sorts.  It boasts a massive abv, a gargantuan hop profile, and somehow reconciles those two into an incredible dynamic of lupulin, light heat, sticky danky resin like knife hits off the stove, and a looooonnnngggg tangelo finish.  It has that sort of Hopslam viscosity to it, which would be a drawback if it weren’t compeltely necessary to offset the seriously insane amount of hops going on here, you partially expect the substrate to separate out with how oily this is.  If they sell this in 6 packs, you should have to have a Cannabis card to purchase it because you will get fucking rekt quickly. This has a slightly offputting solvent sort of finish that is tempered by the sweetness, but looming over everything is this hoppy overseer with a pine/nuggy/redhair scimitar that closes like overripe grapefruit pith.  If you deny that TIPAs can be complex, I urge you to try this beast that is treading dangerously into the American Barleywine realm.  Try to find Waldo, then go back and look for his shoe and his cane and his books or Wizard Greybeard’s hops or whatever.


Ah the classic MPA style.  I took an online course and got my MPA from Everest College, now look at me, I am a hop systems analyst. Hubert “M”PA by Melvin brewing is…fine. This is a largely forgettable, malty, sweet and king fir romp in the mid 2000s realm of “pale” ales.  It has this sort of crystal saccharine profile coupled with a not exceptionally drinkable hop character that may resonate with dudes who enjoy Nugget Nectar, but it was not my jam.


These secret New Mexico gems began peeking in the old BA top 100 four years ago and they remain that paleolithic “missing link” between the west coast IPA and the current hopcake phenomenon that we are enduring.  In sum, this beer is nothing short of fucking amazing.  I rarely see these ISO’ed and I suspect anyone who gets distro from these guys just crushes these mercilessly. This reminds me so so much of the pre-acquisition Nelson with a light haze, that onion and garlic meets blast of orange and pineapple.  It is endlessly crushable and a complete treat every time that I have it.  I love the apricot coffeemate finish that lingers like gelato after the swallow.  This commands your attention and your life is incomplete until you try it, your Untappd hole remains Un…tapd.


Oh shit throw a Glad bag full of used tampons into hype furnace: Toppling Goliath’s famed TIPA, King Sue.  To be honest, this is one of the least impressive beers within their already staggering catalog.  With even “boring” offerings like Golden Nugget and Pseudo Sue being so well done, this feels a touch imbalanced.  Waldo was a touch boozy, but this is lightly fusel without the charm of a Tool roadie in a headshop: there’s not enough dro nugs. This is lightly creamy but moreover finishes long and dry like sex on MDMA. You get the apricot and it is rolled in Glade plug in “forest rain” scent.  It is a big big hoppy beer, and it never is too sweet or cloying, but it just isn’t that FUN I suppose. How do you measure this odd variable? I could finish the bomber but I wouldn’t swipe right again on a second glass exactly.  Lightspeed is better and Sosus sweeps the leg and leaves this lumbering giant on its back by contrast.


Let’s finish this massive review up with the shittiest of the Treehouse cans: Sap.  That is kinda like saying the Boxster is the shittiest in the Porsche lineup: people are still gonna be dripping from the waist down.  This boasts a solid blast of chinook and just came across as far less fruity, less substantial, less juice banging, and more of a gentle duraflame log from across the pond.  As a result this is exceptionally drinkable but it fails to really command your attention the way some of the other noteworthy Treehouse cans do.  This feels like the artistic cousin to La Crosse star, Julius.  I am all for diversity, and this is far from a bad beer, but for the cost of entry you can find local analogues without twisting your hop cones raw.

So in sum, there are diminishing returns in hoppy beers as local ultra fresh analogues have the capacity to stomp other IPAs.  On that note, the very few hoppy beasts that are coveted are that way for a reason and ultimately, those rise above the oily progeny and command those Fedex BUXXXX. Alright, grab a buddy and help me light this 6 foot ROOR, we are celebrating ARBITRARY HOLIDAYS CENTERED AROUND WEEEEEEED DDDUUUUUEEEE.


Trillium Brewing Just Got 5 Hop Cones in the Source: Hot in those MA Streets

If you are like me, you are sick to your perineum of hearing about hoppy beers from the Northeast.  Every other week it’s some new whipped egg yolk looking DIPA pitched with London Ale III strain or something unclarified with tons of messy ropes like cum in a hot tub. I get it, everyone wants their own Huddy Trooper riff. Usually the coat tails are gripped so defiantly that it is hard to separate the cone from the chaff and the prospect of taking a fedex flyer on hoppy beers from across the continental U.S. is not an inviting prospect.

These Trillium beers though, God damn.

Without qualification I can say that these are absolutely worth your time and I would be shocked if your unknown local brewery crafting beers out of a revamped Red Robin on some shitty third owner brewpub system are making anything like this.

beers taste better bokehed

beers taste better bokehed

At the outset the innumerable list of hoppy beers from Trillium appear samey in execution,  but each shines in a distinct fashion. Melcher street is the more herbal and grassy companion on this Massachusetts stroll through dandelion fields.  This is a stern east coast response to the likes of Societe’s Pupil.  This pushes for angiosperms, conifers, and apricot on the closer.

trub a dub dub

trub a dub dub

No matter where you stand on the haze vs. isinglass debate, Melcher street tastes phenomenal and finishes creamy with a long sappy resin like a freshly stained deck. I can’t wait until someone with better distribution bites this style and does it marginally worse because I need this to be sitting on shelves, no courier intermediary needed.

the meringue whip

the meringue whip

Sleeper street is aptly named for much of the Trillium canon at this point.  Sure you see ISOs for these, but I usually wait for the galvanized steel of hoppy beers to cool before I go treading upon unproven paths. This beer is not as good as Melcher but it still shows a capacity for variety within even the style that doesn’t usually get praise for nuance or depth.  This has a kind of menthol and minty Sazerac 18 kind of woodiness going to it.  There is a leafy oiliness to the mid palate and it feels earthy but still wholly refreshing like a woodruff shot or a fernet branca spritzer.

poppin shots at them MA haters

poppin shots at them MA haters

So in sum, this is a throwback of sorts to the Hoptimum era of massively resinous IPAs but ensconced in the framework of the frothy turbidity of the modern era.  It’s like when Brendan Fraser emerges from the past in any one of his movies where he is a guy who is emerging from the past to adapt to new circumstances.  Pick one.



But is that DIPA game strong tho? A resounding affirming head nod shatters my c1 in this regard.  Upper Case is hands down my favorite offering from them and it heismans others squarely in the collarbone by taking the messy DIPA framework that HF Double Galaxy presented and presses it to an oddly refreshing realm.  Usually these are hardly what you would reach for when you seek satiation.

“We hear you guys are digging our hop forward beers…so we busted out another double IPA to celebrate our 2nd anniversary. UPPER CASE has a delicate, dry pilsner malt character with a smooth, soft, doughy mouthfeel from the raw wheat, oily hop resin which all serves as a canvas for this twice dry hopped 9% double IPA. Overipe mango, pineapple and passion fruit aromas leap out as the beer is poured. The impression of tropical fruit also takes the lead in the flavor which is layered further by white wine, pine resin and grapefruit zest. Hopped primarily with Mosaic with supporting roles played by Galaxy, Citra and Columbus. We figured there will be considerable interest, so brewed 3 batches!”

I mean, god damn it.  Sure this is not as balanced as the “perfect” DIPAs like Kern River Citra or HF Ephraim, but it is a novel entry into a sort of almost farmhouse meets ultra hopped 2 row realm.

just look ffs

just look ffs

I know your local realm has fresher, awesome DIPAs.  No one is contesting that, but it likely doesn’t have this guava and pine explosion, it doesn’t have this grapefruit puree pressed through autumnal foliage, the ride on mower sits absently longing for the grow season, and this beer is the reductio ad absurdum of those devices.  Absolutely top notch.

honorable mention

honorable mention

Not to appear one note: brewmaster Jack has been turning out some tasty beers as well.  I was not as huge a fan of this as the adamantium hard lineup from Trillium, but it is still very tasty.  You get grapefruit pith, mandarin oranges, pressed pineapple juice and a nice mineral clean finish without excessive oils.  If you have a MA guy, have him also toss some of this Brewmaster Jack action your way as the whole region seems to be in a hoppy arms race where only the consumer is the victor.

Get that deep cone pump, throbbing oils, zygotes straight tumescent at full bud.


@councilbrewing Nicene Saison, an incredible Gewurztraminer BA Saison that drinks like musky vintage Temptation. Delicious.

I know what you are thinking, “Gewurztraminer? Why are you doing this DDB. We aren’t post-menopausal homies with subscriptions to Sunset magazine.” Just stay with me here. You don’t have to be an empty nester who watches Mike and Molly to appreciate this phenomenal beer, just dig in for this farmhouse ride. It’s a bumpy, musky lil pumpkin patch, don’t fall out of the truck.

Them holofoil labels got me dusting off my Charizard

Them holofoil labels got me dusting off my Charizard

Council Brewing Co., San Diego, CA
6% abv Saison


The commercial rub-down:

“650, 750ml bottles of Nicene were released on September 13, 2014. Nicene was brewed with traditional Saison ingredients to provide a rustic, bready malt backbone and paired with the tropical fruit forward wine and French oak notes achieved from the Gewurztraminer wine barrels. Over time, Brettanomyces and Lactobacillus will continue to develop the gentle sourness and earthy flavors. This Sour Saison was manually packaged with tremendous care and bottle conditioned with high carbonation for optimal enjoyment in a tulip glass.”


A: Whenever I pop a cap and then see a cork it’s like SORRY YOUR PRINCESS IS IN ANOTHER CASTLE. Once I got past the defenses, things got overridingly real. This cascades out with a silky fine carb that crackles forth like a broken washing machine and lingers with wispy frothiness not unlike those filipino foam parties you would attend in your youth. The malt profile looks like straight wheat + belgian pils, nothing too apeshit here. You have a mildly turbid creaminess to the appearance that looks like Sunny D, and everyone knows you want the D. Everyone already knows it.

It doesn't need to make sense.  It's a sub 1000 count barrel aged saison.  Ask questions later.

It doesn’t need to make sense. It’s a sub 1000 count barrel aged saison. Ask questions later.

S: This has a phenomenal nose to it and presents a sort of riesling spilled on Berber carpet. There is a musk of leather and saddle but nectarine and a sweet Chardonnay oakiness. I had never tried a GERWERTEZMENDER barrel aged ANYTHING before and I was suspect from the outset. I didn’t know if a saison would be the based candidate just because the overridingly sweet profile from the grapes COULD TAKE SHIT OVER LIKE WHEN DRAKE DROPS A LACKLUSTER 16 BUT THAT’S THE ONLY VERSE ANYONE REMEMBERS. This just soars on the olfactory profile and presents a welcoming peach pie cooling in the barn, straw and faint acidity while you do whip its and lay in the hay bales. Things are ultra cutty.

This is odd, but unquestionably welcoming.  Franch approved.

This is odd, but unquestionably welcoming. Franch approved.

T: Again, the G-spot barrels are phenomenal and present just the right balance of sweetness for the incredibly balanced acidity to make this drink like aged Temptation. If you have opened a batch 4 large format Temptation you will have an excellent idea of what I am talking about. This doesn’t go ultra lactic, it doesn’t put its pedio foot forward, it opts for a massive drinkability and leaves your gumline unmolested. The creaminess and anjou pear leaves a sort of fondue muskiness on the gumline that is difficult to approximate. It just works so well.

M: Again the cheesy creaminess and silky carb just makes this whole thing gentle as a basket of laundry fresh out the hamper; because that musk, homie. It doesn’t wipe out your jaw or recede your bitter zones, or give you rumble guts after a 750ml. If you have had some of the more nuanced american Farmhouse beers: Florence, Bernice, Jester King Biere de Miel; you will know exactly what I mean. It doesn’t need to hit you with a throbbing blue veined shaft of acidity or his that sub 3.0 ph to make its point. The whole experience is intensely pleasant and refreshing with a faintly alkaline hardness to the water profile that is awesome, gypsum on deck throwing up B’s and C’s.

Might as well spend your time drinking rare BA saisons, there are worse ways to defend your virginity

Might as well spend your time drinking rare BA saisons, there are worse ways to defend your virginity

D: This is highly crushable and a 750ml is easy to take down. If you have ever opened anything from Blaugies and then been like “where dafuq did all the ounces go?” you will know the saison sitch. Their base saison was tasty, a touch sweet and presented a pretty standard high ferm temp Dupont strain sort of profile but this takes things to a whole new realm. If this is characteristic of GERWAMSTRAINER barrels, then god damn, breweries need to start sourcing them hard, like Galoob ripping off NES code with Gamie Genie: THIS IS NO DERIVATIVE WORK.


Narrative: It had been so long since the four arbiters of the canonical saison world had met. The yeast harbinger so adaptive, ever changing and immutably difficult to locate would seemingly never find time in his schedule to discuss the earthy matters and gristy concerns of the wheat delegate. Even less likely would be the union of the diplomate of Water, hard and pure, with the porous affiliate from the Barrel kingdom. Dire circomstances required a clarification of the saison creed. So many faiths and splinter sects had denatured the Wallonian teachings from the initial farmhouse apostles and the populace was crying for clarity and canonical guidance. The musky gavel rapped the wood lightly and Water brought the counsel to Order, “ggeetttnnnllleeemennn, weee neeedd too dessshcccieeddeee-” he began and was immediately interrupted by Yeast, “oh for fucks sake, can anyone but Water preside over these proceedings? Listen to him. COME ON.” The gathering had begun with a glacier paced discussion of monoculture additions to secondary fermentations, enough to put even Barrel to rest. The faith in Farmhouse Culture was dying, and people were increasingly converting to a acetic faith. Something needed to be done to restore the Wallonian truths set forth some 325 years prior. Finally, after days of grueling work, and the interjection of sweet servant grapes, the Council of Saison had developed an immutable creed for the masses to adhere to without question:

“We believe in one Saison, the Farmhouse almighty, fermenter of all things visible and insoluble
and in one strain, the Son of yeast, the essence of the Father, wheat of wheat, water of water,
housed in earthly sanctity of oak, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the first Saison.

By whom all saisons were made, in primary and secondary fermentation, Heaven and Earth,
who for us, Saisons were made incarnate and sent to earth for man

Through high fermentation temps, which would kill or denature ordinary Sacchromyeces, yeast suffered and after the 21st day, rose again

From thence all saisons shall come to judge the quick and the dead ales, the impure libations, those weak of spirit and character

and in the holy fermentation Ghost.”

Less than 60 years later brewers would again engage in sectarian violence over the meaning of “fermentation Ghost,” but that is a tale for another tome.


Sante Adairius Chavez, Simpleton, Longest night: ambrosial central California heaters.


Base Chavez: toasty char forward porter that is the cleanest finish on a robust porter this side of Everett. highly sessionable akin to Edmund Fitzgerald, that hard water profile gives a great crisp compliment to the roasted malts, awesome mouthfeel.

Longest Night: nose of zombie dust with that huge citra bouquet, taste of hoppy birthday with a huge mineral resinous presence and a nova II thin body. Nose is all tangelo, tangerine, pineapple, classic citra fist, taste swings closer to the realm of Hoppy Birthday, clean and resinous albeit lacking the exciting fruit profile present in the olfactory.

Simpleton: amped up version of the foregoing, yet strangely higher in drinkability and with a completely different hop bill. The turbid look is alluring with a radiant yellow core. Very enjoyable, lacking a bit of creaminess in the mouthfeel that I usually jones for in the realm of these “dirty” IPAs, but that’s the alkaline profile of the water, not a misstep in the brewing IMO.

Good things in the pipes from these guys.


@columbusbrewing Bodhi DIPA, Touch that Bodhi, Get All Up in the Bodhi, Put my Bodhi inside You

Alright, we can all agree that Christopher Columbus was a complete shitbag, right? I mean ok, he rediscovered a trade route, committed genocide of thousands/millions of natives, sold Carribeans into slavery, we all know about that; but he also probably never brewed a DIPA. If you do all that horrible shit and then never offset it with at least a quality beer, then, that’s just babystomp levels of wrong. Columbus Brewing would be the inverted analog to the imperialist mariner: solid land locked people with no boats, no imperialistic aspirations, and they brew a fucking amazing DIPA. I saw this lil elusive minx pop up on the old school top 100, back when the mics used to mean something, 95 was meant you were the shit, now a 99 is like the least you get. Mad props to BlacknYellow for sending me this sticky banger. Anyway, this is fucking amazing and the best hoppy offering to come out of the midwest in a long time. Sorry Head Hunter. This is vastly superior. This one is for you Sendsilk, stop complaining and let’s get up in that Bodhi.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Classic DDB form: skulled the entire fucking 2L solo while playing GTAV. Typical Tuesday.

Columbus Brewing Company visit their website
Ohio, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This is just beautiful. It isn’t that orange julius turbid mish mosh that HF presents, but it isn’t that deep gold SRM from west coast offerings, nor the ugly brassy east coast maltbombs: it is it’s own aesthetic. Looking at it, you wouldn’t think 8% abv DIPA, it looks like a tamer sort of Zombie Dusty affair. The carb held up well and there is light cling and little retention, but you didn’t put this hop porn in for the foamy storyline. You just want those hop oil money shots all in your mouth. Triple ropers.

Once this growler was opened I couldn't keep my mouth up off it

Once this growler was opened I couldn’t keep my mouth up off it

S: This has a fantastic floral meets citrus boquet that doesn’t dominate on either profile. At first it is a bit aserose and you have sad feels, but then that grapefruit comes through like pith on the backend lightening up the bitter Coen Brothers hop profile with a bit of Raising Hopizona. Jamean.

T: Again, the pine needles are swept gently into a corner with some smashed lemon and yard trimmings in a beautiful medley that is distinctively grassy, resinous, but bright enough to maintain that complexity. It is the halfway house between shitty east coast malt bombs and simplistic refreshing west coast citrus profiles. The ABV is masked impeccably, you wouldn’t even know there were bricks stuffed up in the spare moving mad weight up in this whip. Pine cones soaked in grapefruit puree, bottled with unfiltered sunlight. Straight ratchet and worth the hype.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

People who dont trade will be all rustled and talk about how their local IPA is the best, lol, rite.

M: This is exceedingly thin and all the better as a result. In racing they say “if you want to make your car do everything better, reduce the weight” and that is essentially what is going on here. This is a stripped down malty 240z with a fucking 350 of hops dropped into the chassis. I am not sure if this amount of resin to citrus ratio is street legal, but it def gives southeast asian kids erections. It washes away clean with an almost dry finish due to the oily bitterness that leave you with little recourse besides getting face down in it for another taste.

D: I killed this entire growler on a weeknight and wondered just what the fuck happened the next morning. My Roomba looked on in cold disapproval and swept up all the smashed goldfish from the entryway. This will get you on that Mossberg swerve to the point where, who knows, maybe you might get banned from a local establishment and/or beer website. Anything is possible with this minx. Highly recommended Boneyard/Alpine level shit. Seek this one out, srs.

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90's extreme intensity

It is like they took a classic formula and amped it up with speed, cornering and mid 90’s extreme intensity

Narrative: Dwayne Clark knew that his grill was illfitting and he didn’t care to address the issue. The lack of balance was his calling and the street youth loved him for it. In urban circles this was an issue of ultimate reproach and he instead chose to clench his bicuspids defiantly. “What type of cheesy gordita crunch would you like?” “mhm.” He just felt the pang of knowing that his vestigial dental accessory was somehow subpar to the most luxurious on the block, but ornate and amazing in execution. “I shed, jush a regular scheesy gordita, crunsh.” He gritted his jaw knowing they were mocking his ostentatious purchase, the precious stones obfuscating his speech. It was sheer excess, to be sure. WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO? TAKE IT OUT? That is simply not an option when you come so close to regal greatness. No sir, he resolved to show this grill in all of its majesty, despite the “minor” problems that he may encounter on a day to day basis. Dwayne would tend the danky vines in his grandmother’s basement and wait for the day that Interscope saw the true genius behind his radiant flows.


@santeadairius Bernice

So I guess this is one of those “regular” SARA offerings, that is kinda like saying “oh that is one of those Kuhnhenn REGULAR RELEASES, you know 52 bottles in the middle of Arctic Tundra.” That sorta thing. I don’t know if this is the base beer for West Ashley but either way, Thank you Based God. I have my suspicions and until one of the portmanteau components of that Sante Adairius chimes in, old DDB will have to grind it out like a 7th grade dance. I put on Tony Rich Project and shit got sexy real quick with that octogenarian Bernice. I spelled that shit without spell check, this is gonna be a legit review.

Cupertino muggy and mean muggin on that radiant sesh.

Cupertino muggy and mean muggin on that radiant sesh.

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales
California, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.50% ABV

I was told that I am drinking batch 2. Like you give a fuck.

A: In journalism an auto-correct error is called a “Cupertino.” This is because when the software was first developed there were several instances of changing the word “cooperation” without the hyphen, to “Cupertino.” Why should you give a fuck? This beer is the Cupertino error of subbing in straight saison for what should be “American Wild Ale.” Just look at this glowy ass ho straight emitting free radicals and lasers from its core engaging in cold fusion without remorse. This looks really similar to West Ashley and again, the investigation continues.

Yeah, Twista was sippin Sante Adairius in the Source and tickers offering Abyss.  Do they even Outlaw?

Yeah, Twista was sippin Sante Adairius in the Source and tickers offering Abyss. Do they even Outlaw?

S: This doesn’t have the ripe apricot or complexity of the tannins but plays more of the river cards in embracing the lightly lactic nectarine acidity that is coupled with a faint gorgonzola aspect to it at higher temps. At cold cold cold temps in them 45 degree range I was kinda crestfallen, this was seriously like Pineapple Fanta or what old ass people would call THE OLD EGG PHOSPHATE maneuver. Let this open up to them mid 50’s like your favorite librarian and then work it hard, without remorse for its cats or estranged children. The light acidity takes a backseat to this Siren call of bubble bath refreshment. This is Bath and Body works nose fucking you and the 18 year old cashier is wanting. Legit.

T: This beer enters with a gentle ester that really needs higher temps to showcase and complexity in the residual sugar vs. enzymes battlefield. That is not its strongest suit. The Brett C profile is present but again, this is not the Chad Crooked Stave water on bugs refreshment either. This executes like somewhat of a hybrid between Crooked Stave Vielle and Seizoen bretta in that it is incredibly light, drops some lemon, tangelo, nectarine, and some clementine but isn’t acidic enough to warrant some comparison to say Beatification or that realm. The whole experience is like being tucked into some lemony 500ct sheets. Most of you still sleep with an unfolded sleeping bag or a FUBU sheet set from Walmart so I can’t explain it that well to you degenerates but, splurge and buy some dryer sheets next month when you wash your mountain of black screen print shirts. It is like that.

I got two boxes full of Sante Adairius shit this week, the Fedex truck be all like-

I got two boxes full of Sante Adairius shit this week, the Fedex truck be all like-

M: This is incredibly light, to the point of being insubstantial almost. The acidity adds some dryness that remedies things to add a lingering that is kinda like a power chord versus the fully fleshed out 3 additional notes of a major chord, but something feels too simplistic and transparent in the splishy finish. The West Ashley had an apricot walker to lean upon to add strata to the silt but this is a simple affair like a Misfits album that is satisfying for exactly what is immediately presented. There are no lactic/brett C/barrel solos that run on for bars and bars, you get a punch of lemon, water, light musk, and it is over. You want another sip immediately because that tart smooch with the latter day saint of the saison world just teases you hard.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you feel bad about the rate in which you can slay a 750ml. Your mother in law will look at you like a UPS driver, straight alcoholic, when you drill this shit like a dental assistant. You will be able to put this down triple double no assist. This is like when you drive a Honda until the 99999 odometer turns to 000000. I love how drinkable this is but it almost pisses me off how fast this disappeared, but that is largely the fault of my heaving back tits, deep bellybutton and insatiable liver. I wreck bottles and lives.

Florida traders suddenly lost their wind to this Farmhouse upstart.  Watch them offer up some MZ shit and reap the lulz.

Florida traders suddenly lost their wind to this Farmhouse upstart. Watch them offer up some MZ shit and reap the lulz.

Narrative: Berenice ran her fingers through the fine Byzantine textiles and looked at the Gregorian calendar wondering what the nature of the Roman Silver age could hold. Her golden locks were held simply but there was a certain piquant complexity to here demeanor. No woman seeks to be a thrice divorced woman during the Flavian dynasty, but such was her Lot. No pun intended. The cool acidity of her treatment and interaction of the servants showed a poise that predated the Justinian morality laws. Any servant could approach her and take in her refreshing nature, the cool perspiration of Judea bathing salts and desert air made her a breathtaking site to all who sought her company. The only harshness that she ever exhibited was a harsh hand exhibited during the Jewish rebellion, but even in trying times the afflicted sought her clemency. Later her empire would be replaced with apricot groves and a new empire would replace her gentle feudalism. No seed germinates everlasting in the chosen land, not even Berenice.


@Hillfarmstead Double Citra, Double Down That Citra and Juicy J Gonna Pop It Like Wet Paint

It’s been a minute since we went back to Vermont to see what those boys are up to in Greensboro. Now that Citra is a household hop right next to the Ajax and the baking soda, let’s go way back and enjoy this top 100 banger with a fresh liver. This beer would previously post up with Abner and Double Galaxy and push kids around the school yard, showing them how hops is done. Does it still bully the fuck out of newcomer DIPAs? We shall see in today’s revew. WE SHALL SEE.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: You already know how this cow eats the cabbage before you even pop that growler. You get an eggshell white foam that is just pumps out ropes and ropes of lacing like Peter North. Google him after you get home from work. The turbid borderline farmhouse look to this beer lets the consumer know two things 1) pasteurization is for playaz who dont be getting it and 2) that milky secret holds all the hops in the substrate like a male seahorse and all his spawn. The carb is indefatigable and crackles endlessly, taunting you, letting you know no one asked you to Sadies, reminding you of substandard DIPAs of the past and the messy hop IEDs of the future.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

S: Some other breweries choose to buttress citra hops with something like oh I don’t know cascade, simcoe; you know something to give structure to the acidic citrus aspects. This beer just says fuck all that and goes ham on the citrus notes. It is like a Farmer’s Market of tangerines, mandarin oranges, clementines, and nectarines. There is a light honey at the backend and some Grand’s biscuits going on just to make old Grammy smile at this hop builder straight flexing its traps.

T: This follows the nose pretty congruently and makes you feel as though you may have tread this path before in Society and Solitude, or perhaps to a lesser extent Abner. You get a lil aserose poking its head out of its knothole with the first sign of spring, then this turns into a straight up Gushers/Fruitopia commercial of juiciness and everyone is getting mouthfucked with oranges, lemon zest, cuties, and every manner of citric acid. This isn’t a fruiter berliner sort of acidity though, it is like a TOOL fan’s room with a stick dankness of oils and a bright glow of a blacklight hop cone poster. It is bright, bold but almost menacing in the way it just pushes your palate down into a swivel chair and demands the access codes.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

M: This is hoppy and cirtus forward to the point of being drying along the gumline. If you have ever had beers that go hard on the Tomahawk/Warrior you know what I mean but this is a little different. It isn’t exactly a resinous bully that tears up your bicuspid walls, because there is almost a sort of yogurty creaminess to it. It’s like a hop gangster who flips a coin, shoots your friend and lovingly puts its arm around your gumline. Shit starts popping off in all kinds of directions like Hmong family reunion.

D: This is almost frustratingly drinkable. The 750ml swingtop is a mockery for this beer and shouldn’t even be an offsite option. It is akin to a single song dance at a strip club when you know you are gonna be tipping up. Once it is gone, you feel like that nursing student crawling around the floor collecting the one dollar bills, dancing your way through school. The carbonation just adds to the problems because the crack and substantial coating in the creaminess lends itself to foregoing contemplation of what you are enjoying. One minute you are just contemplating going to see Pain & Gain, the next minute Double Citra is gone and you are asking to speak to a lawyer.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Narrative: Angus T. Jones was sick of this shit. He walked around the backlot and bit into a ripe tangerine and looked over the spec script for the 14th season. Two and a Half Men wouldn’t be the same without the half man, now almost two decades old. “Get my agent on the phone, I am sick of this fucking nonsense,” Angus called out to an associate producer and cast a Newport onto the pavement. At first things were sweet, when he was younger he was content with mediocrity, but this was too much. “Another fucking episode about me not fitting in at school? I am 19 fucking years old. The writers need to get their shit together!” he screamed into the DP’s voicemail. In the beginning it was easy to forget all of the mediocrity, which folded into itself like the membranes on a mitochondria. However the acidity had been punched up, his sticky distemper was affecting Ashton Kutcher and other serious artists on the set. “How about this, my character goes to the fucking Army? Ok? Or, I dont know, get an alien or an adopted kid. Do what shitty shows do when they become worse and worse to the point that Nascar fans wont watch them anymore. Yes, yes I did see the final season of Family Matters, do that shit,” he called into his iPhone 5 while texting one of the hot skeezies on iCarly. He was more acidic than he was deep, but he was more profound than others in his position. Angus Jones was an acerbic asshole that people could never seem to get enough of.


Three Floyd’s Zombie Dust, The Worlds Ballerest Pale Ale Gets the Chris Redfield Treatment, T-Virus Steeze

Pale ales have been largely passed over in this bustling world of DIPAs and O-ring fingering. Everyone wants to push that malt bill, get them mosaic hops, pound out some resinous tones and fuckall to sessionability and balance. It is like when Norwegian Black Metal lost its credibility and it was just all about 24th fret shredding. We all remember when that happened. But what about the old acorn penis pale ale? Sure it isn’t as big, but it has finesse and can go for long sessions. If you are expecting an asian penis reference, I will defer, the hop cone parallel is low hanging buds. A well done pale ale is amazing, more so than DIPAs in many ways. If you have ever rubbed Hoppy Birthday on your nips, you will know what I mean. Let’s fuck an undead woman in today’s review, so you can lose your -1 virginity once and for all.

If you posted this as your Walking Dead beer, I approve, but I kinda dont.  SO CONFLICTED.

If you posted this as your Walking Dead beer, I approve, but I kinda dont. SO CONFLICTED.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
American Pale Ale (APA) | 6.40% ABV

A: For a pale ale, I was expecting some sort of foamy splishy splashy affair, but this is kinda menacing, deep gold tones like those elaborate medals that dictators in Africa always rock. The carbonation is nice and subsides gently in a “pillowy cloud of douchey metaphors.” You get lil archipelagos of lacing and fuck yes I just spelled that without spell check. I dont really want it to be this dark, but, it’s kinda like when Kefka blew up the world, you know that Locke and Sabin will pull through this shit, even if you have to catch fish for 15 minutes.

the label is creepy, this beer is scary drinkable, but in the end you want to give it a hug and tell it everything will be ok

the label is creepy, this beer is scary drinkable, but in the end you want to give it a hug and tell it everything will be ok

S: God damn, this is like the Donkey Kong Jr. version of Kern River Citra. Seriously, it has mango, peach, dandelions, a light tree sap on the very end but just feels warm and inviting like a shot of fernet branca in your favorite whorehouse while away on a work trip in Amsterdam. You know the type.

T: This is more akin to hopslam at the outset with the janky cloying honey front but then the citra hops push that shit aside and it almost reminds me of that balance that Two Hearted has for a moment but then shit goes more Sculpinerer and finishes with a deeper orange rind zest. This is all painted on the canvas of an incredibly delicate resolution. If you have ever watched shrimping videos online, there’s a certain aplomb and gentleness to fucking someone’s feet that is difficult to look down upon. This is easily one of the best pale ales I have ever tasted, if not the best.

Drinking powerful ass pale ales will prepare you for some impending dystopian apocalypse.

Drinking powerful ass pale ales will prepare you for some impending dystopian apocalypse.

M: This is light and crackly at the outset and leaves streaking of tree sap resin, but in a saucy playful way on the backend and there is some light aserose aspects on the swallow. This is so god damn light but have in the vapors I feel like I am in a Eugene O’Neill play straight waving my face, getting the vapors and wiping my forehead from the execution. Shit is bomb.edu.

D: It would be an aggressive understatement to try and capture the drinkability of this beer. It was bottled 8 days ago and I currently have 40 bottles in my fridge with zero fucks given. Maybe I will give them out at Churchills Finest Hour, maybe I will buttchug some, who knows. Your rectum is the limit with a beer this clean and sessionable. I know DINT, whereever he is, will tell me that I am a shar pei dick for suggesting that a 6%+ beer is sessionable, but for serious, it is. I know we aren’t shooting darts at the pub and eating beans on toast, but if you need to bang a girl from the midwest, this beer will help you get in those Mudd Jeans I am sure they are still wearing. Midwest chicks probably still wear those wonky ass rhinestone BEBE tank tops flossing so hard. Alas I digress.

oh shit I just drank 6 of these on accident? Ruh-roh.

oh shit I just drank 6 of these on accident? Ruh-roh.

Narrative: Three hours, Chris had three fucking hours to mix this vjolt, pour it in the plant, harvest the hop cones, run up to the observatory, get fucking attacked by crows and finish mixing up his zombie elixir. Who even made this fucking mansion? Some doors require that you place symbols in completely different rooms and gems in moose heads. It seems like if you were living here on a regular basis that would get tedious. Annoyed Chris clutched his resinous v jolt vial and headed for the lauter tun, all he had to do was play Moonlight Sonata on the piano to access the lab. The real estate agent must have been less than forthright when she was showing off this Victorian mansion. Earlier Chris was attempting to get some grain from the storehouse and apparently one of the features of this 18th century gem was a sliding ceiling that would kill someone if they removed a broken shotgun from the parlor. It didn’t make sense, but soon Chris would have a sticky icky potable to sip on. If only he could get his hands on a dank Jill sammich he would be all set.


Brouwerij Het Alternatief The Bitter Truth Tripel IPA, You Can’t Handel The Truf

I don’t remember ever having this beer, and I lost the picture that I took of it. This tells me that this 10% heater did its job. Anyway, let’s sip this esoteric gem in today’s review, THIS BEER BE THE TRUTH.

This isn’t my picture, but since we are telling the truth, truthfully you probably don’t give a shit.

Brouwerij Het Alternatief
Belgian IPA | 10.00% ABV

The Bitter Truth, Tripel 10% 70 ibu

A: Faint chardonnay yellowish faint gold with very thin character similar to a thin lager. HUGE head with carbonation throughout. The carbonation might be my favorite part of this beer, which sounds strange but it is executed perfectly.

This beer is a little strange, BUT YOU SECRETLY LIKE IT.

S: Lots of pepper and spice, some clove, mild sugars and tart white grapes. This isn’t your standard Triple IPA offering, but I enjoy it.

T: A sweet white wine savignon blanc taste opens with a tart grape that fades into a peppery finish. Great mild hops round out the profile.

This beer, like Latonja, don’t give a fuck.

M: This has a great mouthfeel between the constant carbonation and thin mouthfeel it equates to a strangely balanced and original Tripel that almost leans toward the Gueuze. Very tasty and seems more west-coast than Belgian in character. Love the tart dryness that it imparts.

D: This is an exceptionally drinkable beer with great lasting appeal. The price is a bit too much to make it a session beer but the 10% abv makes it a contender for a great well-rounded beer. I would love to bring this along for a hot weather activity and other venues. The more that I drink it the smoother and milder it gets, I love the tart character that is akin to a sour cuvee.

Picture unrelated.

Narrative: Tipper Poppington was born a proletariat merchant assistant with a secret . He worked hard all his days, overseeing the notary, making sure the itemized bundles were packaged correctly, sealing all the correspondence with the hot wax seal. He wasn’t the best in the office, or the brightest, or even the most amiable. However, young Tipper was born under a conditional will from his great great grandfather which stated that if Tipper could become a fencing master by the age of 21, he would take his grandfather’s large estate, heretofore unbeknownst to him, and win the heart and mind of the winsome female interest in the clerking office. He was alerted on his 20th birthday with a knock on a rich mahogany door. The package contained a terse note wrapped around a perfectly balanced Epee, “train you will, take you shall,” with a copy of the holographic will attached. “God speed, Young Poppington” the clerk master whispered to himself as he watch Tipper practice fervishly in the courtyard, each parry a daunting swipe at greatness, and the heart of his beholden.


Hill Farmstead Society and Solitude #4, If You Haven’t Seen Parts 1-3 You Might Not Be Able to Follow

I know, I know. In my Fear and Trembling review I said I would ratchet back on the Hill Farmstead reviews, but a DIPA this good and the generosity that I have unexpectedly incurred warranted some sticky new hop beats for the club. Can’t leave hops alone the game needs me.

If you don’t like drinking REAL juice, and Wakefield Berliners are too nutritious for you, this will do JUST FINE.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This has that classic Hill Farmstead milkiness to it with a creamy opaque orange glow that is turbid and frothy at the same time. There’s a ton of sticky lacing with generous carbonation that stacks and layers like US Weekly magazines in a hoarder’s home.

The number of amazing beers from this brewery is too damn high. Add some filler once in a while, brew a red ale or something.

S: The smell is incredible with notes of tangelo, grapefruit rind, tangerines, and blood orange. The pine aspect is muted but oversees and doesn’t micromanage, the sign of a true leader. The subordinate malts seem light and support the olfactory profile like a keystone in a Gothic cathedral.

T: This has a nice citrus aspect to it that is lighter than Abner in the fistfulls of pine needles, the citrus aspect is unmistakably well done and starts to infringe upon the classic Citra taste that I have become so indoctrinated to. The orange rind lingers as though there was pithy orange peels tossed into the boil, but I somehow know that they did with with no adjuncts, Vermont rolls au natural with a nice supple hop rack.

Unlike your horrible Comcast internet, this beer has always got you covered.

M: The mouthfeel has a dry oiliness from the hops that imparts an acidic bite and lingers, handing out fliers to the exiting taste buds. The entire affair is incredibly pleasant and the 750ml growler seems inexplicably too small as a result. The greatest problem in this review would be separating this amazing DIPA from their other incredible entries, Double Citra, Abner, Galaxy, the list goes on. I would say that this is better than Abner and Double Citra, but falls just short of Galaxy single hop. It is robust but presents a great diversity that keeps it memorable. At this point though, it is like selecting WHICH Lambo best expresses your personality.

D: This is exceptionally drinkab- oh hey the growler is gone. It is just that easy. 8% has never been so fleeting, the citrus kiss is a deep acidic wateriness that clips along like a Jetski with two naked Ford models on the juice ocean.

This brewery will keep rolling out awesome DIPAs, I have a pretty good idea that is what is going on.

Narrative: Blammo Corp. was in dire straights and the new toy line was simply not working. The citrus acid battery only served to get nerdy kids beat up at school and prevented home school kids from getting laid. Finally Bill Walmsly had hit rock bottom and pulled over to a roadside fruit stand after the pre-Chapter 11 meeting. He sighed and kicked a rotting strawberry and sat watching the lemon yellow sun sinking into the horizon. “Ahn sometimes…chu know you jas…see the son and es like…naranja.” Bill looked up and saw a sage old Bolivian man polishing a tangelo on his worn Tommy Hilfiger overalls. “Ahn sometimes…you jos say, I don’t need material theengs, es solo importante a ser feliz.” Mr. Walmsly nodded and listened to the broken English of this migrant labor Erasmus and rubbed his chin. “If we can convince kids that they don’t need toys…WE WILL MAKE A KILLING.” The following Friday, Sabino handed out a ripe pluot to each of the board members and continued a bilingual phillipic which seemed to last hours, “en see, chu give kids all the fruitas, and they say, well why can’t we ride the bus then, maybe you don’t need a car when estas dieciseis?” The members looked around confused, Sabino had failed to captivate their minds with his pro-citrus resignation from establish society. Mr. Walmsly injected “and on that note, we will now be selling mango flavored action figures coated in cayenne pepper and grapefruits with fireworks inside of them.” Old Bill had done it again and saved the company from certain ruin. He never forgot that stoic old Sophist, Sabino. A gorgeous marble bust was placed in the grand foyer of Blammo Corp.