@drugstorebrewer Ale Apothecary Triple Scissor Shootout: Those sub-300 bottle count bangers, for the haters.

Slowly but surely, beta tickers are starting to turn off their Tae Bo tapes and now are discovering saisons. As much as I didn’t want this to happen, like those first tufts of curlies, all those baby 2012 bitches are taking those wobbly farmhouse steps, jingling daddy’s Wallonia keys. I guess this was the logical extension of waiting on kids who were all about Black Note and KBS last year, now they have a litany of ultra-lactic, wild, high abv super saisons at their disposal and suddenly we have a new crop of saison masters.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Those same weak peninses who thought saisons were all Hennepin and Red Barn suddenly are flexing their traps in the yard, tryna run shit. I am fine with that because I let my Biere De Garde lats swole like bat wings. So what is the deal with all these small run saisons that push the inner butthole of the American Wild Ale game? Cory King is kicking out these 400 bottle runs monthly and now has main bitches and side bitches in his Sidekick. Chase started crushing up lines of Caravienna on a CD case and letting tickers wipe it on they gums now guess who is hooked?

Today I wanna holler at these mountainous farmhouse purveyors up in Oregon. I picture head brewer, Paul Arney, doing burpees and deep dips in a hollow out spruce coolship, cooking up these super saisons turned wild ales, working on his chest piece. So it wasn’t like their “normal” lineup of Sahalie and…uh…La Tache I guess, were easy to come by. Those were already like 700 bottle runs and asspensive. So I moaned initially at the idea of having to seek out their LIMITED shit. The waiting list for their AA club is over a year long and I don’t have that kinda patience. Luckily, the PNW traders are staggeringly charitable and hooked it up.

Today we will be counting down the recent limited Ale Apothecary releases, RANKING THEM, and tossing beats along the way. Because I am not writing no 2700 words with narratives and shit.


We are not the same, I am a Martian, approach these cellar doors with caution

We are not the same, I am a Martian, approach these cellar doors with caution

The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | ABV 9% (handwritten, hard to see?)

Why is this a bitch:
270 bottles produced
Ale Club members will receive theirs automatically, leaving “100-150 up for grabs”
No bottles will be available for public retail sales

– Alright first and foremost this is by no means a “bad beer.” Not unlike the Blind BABW tasting results the competition is fierce because we are talking about top tier super saysuns/AWAs. I initially opened this super cold because I had carbonic acid issues with MASSIVE carb and gushing. It’s like AA takes a page from old Logsdon on their attenuation swag. This spill out as lively as Champagne and just sits soapy with a thick domeshot of Palmolive bubbles.

This is strange, but you welcome it lovingly.  RIEEEECHARD PARKER farmhouse swagger.

This is strange, but you welcome it lovingly. RIEEEECHARD PARKER farmhouse swagger.

– This beer is just too. fucking. sour. I know some people do naked diamond pushups and call me a pussy but the lactic profile coupled with the low ph, intense dryness, and crackly overcarbing just makes this hard for the 750ml trudge. I mean, I still finished it and really enjoyed it but god damn, it’s like going to Mormon summer camp, just running your mouthraw with that farmhouse heavy petting. This has a tart bouquet of tangerine, light bitterness like orange pith, grapefruit juiciness, and a closer that is bittering like some of the Blaugies offerings. I still killed it, would love to try it again, but this is the least balanced and more extreme of their offerings. Still def. recommended.




The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 10.70% ABV

Why people lose their shit over this:
SPENCER (The Dispenser of Provisions) is our annual fruit beer. In the early fall, we harvest wild blackcurrant fruit and add it to a batch of year-old SAHALIE. The sugars in the fruit produce another fermentation and the blackcurrant tannins create additional structure over the 8-month aging period. Prior to bottling, the beer is dry-hopped for a month in oak barrels. With close to 2 years in oak, Spencer has a much more developed Brettanomyces character than our other beers.
 Because of the extremely limited quantity of wild blackcurrant available, we produce only one oak barrel of Spencer every year. This beer is unlabeled and reserved exclusively for our Ale Club members.

This tart sniper looks inviting and will put you down just as fast

This tart sniper looks inviting and will put you down just as fast

– See all of that above? That reads like a romance novel for the modern beer trader. All those adjectives just create that perineum tingling that people who seek Raries just gotta have. I really enjoyed this beer and loved the riff on the same Ale Apoth offerings. This has even MORE absurd carbonation, on the same level of Sahati where you pour it and just stand back like “alright, enough already.” When this finally settles down it has a radiant golden, quasi turbid precious metal allure to it.

– This beer is less dry than Sahalien and is easily the most drinkable, the abv in all of these beers is laughably imperceptible but this one drinks like a belgian table beer and you could pull some PUNK’D stunts on your bisexual roomate with this sleeping beast. You get apricot, tart kumquat, there is light graininess to it and this would be the closest to the super saisons and less in the AWA realm. If you liked Fantome Extra Sour, you will really dig this beast. Again, highly recommended. Top tier, china white, not stepped on product.


Prepare to not drink this beer.  Fucking top tier AWA/Saison, whateveruwannacallit.  It goes in hard.  Multiple climaxes,

Prepare to not drink this beer. Fucking top tier AWA/Saison, whateveruwannacallit. It goes in hard. Multiple climaxes,

The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

First and foremost, I think La Tache got caught up in some petty wine litigation not unlike SUCABA, because now we have this disclaimer version. I can only speculate, but any way. The base beer was fucking awesome, then they RAR’ed it hard in rum barrels, then added the WHALEFRUIT: white peaches. I think this was a 230 bottle release with most of the bottles taken to the Second Annual Portland Wild Ale Festival. I think the AAclub members then got the chance to buy maybe one? If you areolas aren’t tingling then maybe you need to go back to drinking Colette.

This doesnt fit in AWA or Super Saisons, it just stunts hard as fuqqq

This doesnt fit in AWA or Super Saisons, it just stunts hard as fuqqq

– God damn, if this is the Goldlocks paradigm, TBFKALTAIRBwWP just tears it up and is “JUSSSST RIIIITE.” If Sahalien pulled your hair too hard, but Spencer wouldn’t talk dirty to you, this is just the right amount of wrong. The balance is incredible between the juice, acidity, funk, barrel, and laughably hidden abv. The carbonation is the most retrained out of any AA offering thus far, the hue is a perfect deep orange, slightly murky, that orange and pineapple ester profile just banging, peach jolly ranchers falling in but dropping a 2/4 acidic beat, not a sticky sweetness. The nose has a muskiness, light funk that is dominated in equal parts by the acidity and juiciness which wasn’t metabolized by that high ass attenuative yeast strain. This is like if Fou Foune and b1 Persica were all tongue kissing and you are peeping through a painting with the eyes cut out. It’s that decadent and tawdry, but so fulfilling.

– The taste is fucking phenomenal top to bottom and I would be surprised if this isn’t within the realm of DDB top beers of 2014. I really can’t offer many descriptors for improvement aside from a slightly sweet cloying aspect at higher temps, light fusel presence in the low 60’s, and other nit picky shit. But in all honesty, the fruit interplay with the acidic tannic finish and caramel underpinnings of the rum barrel make for a peach jubilee that is both dry but assertive, juicy but gentle, you can take her to your parents but also pull her weave.

This is the real deal, through and through. Cannot recommend highly enough. Now I will never try this shit again because asshole DDB readers always ruin it for me on the ISO;FT boards.


@thebruery Wineification, the First Full Legit Review on the Internet, Stompin on your grapes.

Alright, if you are one of the 215 members in the Hoarder’s Society, there was already prejam on your tip for this malty banger. When you went to go pick up your bottles of Sour in the Rye Peaches and saw that “SYRAH BARREL BLACK TUESDAY” you know that pounding in your loins, it was real. This is a 2 per memebership release from the Bruery, no extra bottles sold, no stems no seeds no sticks. 2 fucking bottles. To be honest, I thought this was going to be a bucket of menopausal jizz. Imperial Tart of Darkness meets Lindley Park and some residual Kendall Jackson tannins.

I was dead fucking wrong. This might be the best beer that they made all year and it put me right in my fucking place when I opened it, at the Bruery itself no less. After I posted a brief write up on Friday, 17 ISOs went up overnight. Business as usual in the beer game, monkey see/monkey fucking offers Proprietors. Let’s stomp hard and elaborate on why this isn’t just Black Tuesday with Smuckers poured into it, prepare to be jelly tho.

Store this bottle away from your middle aged stepmom, she will drink this while watching Scandal.  Such a waste.

Store this bottle away from your middle aged stepmom, she will drink this while watching Scandal. Such a waste.

The Bruery, Placentia
15.7% or some shit (markedly lower than BT)
California, Syrah Barrel Aged Black Tuesday

Commerical Hype:
The “wineification” of beer has been a constant topic of discussion these days, so why not just take a step further and blend the two? We took our Black Tuesday Imperial Stout and fermented it along with late harvest Syrah grapes from the vineyards of Los Olivos, from our good friends at both Fess Parker and Saarloos & Sons. We then aged this wine/beer hybrid in French Oak barrels, waiting for the perfect time to bottle it up. The flavor profile is remarkable. Notes of black cherry, vanilla, cinnamon, oak, aged balsamic, port wine and a sherry-like oxidation from the barrels. This beer is like nothing that you have ever tried before.

A: This beer looks nothing short of awe-inspiring. I hate delving into the old Lisa Frank handbook to describe swatches of magenta and deep purples, but this is robey as fuck. There is a plum and dark violet at the edges with light purple foam mixed with a dark roasty center as black as Jude Law’s soul. It clearly picked up an assload of tannins from the barrel and looks like a Cab/Stout hybrid, fucking beautiful ebony queen.

Maroney is 18 now, and this beer is mature enough for her palate.

Maroney is 18 now, and this beer is mature enough for her palate.

S: The waft on this beer is more wine than stout and presents a unique tannic, jammy dryness with a touch of milk chocolate and tootsie roll smashed together. The wine and cocoa cascade over one another like dudes wrestling in a Castro bathhouse. There is a complete dryness to this and oak presence that keeps sticky old BT in check and dials back the sugars in a huge way. If you were one of the complete pussy naysayers who likes to trammel out that old “DIABETTTUSSS” joke you heard in 2012 that is still relevant to you, no beetus to be found. Srs.

Alright, before this shit blows up go toss up your tired ass FT: King Henry offer. Schemes and dreams.

Alright, before this shit blows up go toss up your tired ass FT: King Henry offer. Schemes and dreams.

T: There are dry cab forward notes of currant and blackberry at the outset, middle oak tannic presence like a Seasmoke pinot, light jamminess, thin execution with very little residual sugar presence, the underpinning black tuesday presents a nuanced profile with roast, char, chocolate cherry cordial and a sort of cacao clean finish to the palate. Was not expecting this, very exceptional. I can’t really think of any jokes to pepper this bitch up, it’s just fucking good and I was expecting far less. Shame on me for being an acorn penis.

M: As noted several times above, this is fucking dry but closes with a chocolate and wine stickiness. It is almost more wine than beer in many aspects, and again, it’s not like anything you have ever tried, I shared my only bottle so allow me to step off the hype train. ttot It’s like open mouth kissing a high school freshman and shes all into Nutella sandwiches and you are a creepy early 40s asshole drinking a dry cab, that interplay of lewd activity marries the two in an imperfect union of borderline felonius activity.

D: If you thought old curmudgeonus DDB was uncaring, I shared my only bottle of this with a person I had never met before, from Chicago no less. Old Pow87 loved it and you will too. I guess I shouldn’t be too fucking surprised that one of the four exclusive bottles is amazing when you pay $700 to join a beer club, I just didn’t think it would be this good. If AgentZero were still alive he would give this a resounding 4.1, which is essentially a perfect score. It’s a really good beer, and you probably can stop drinking those same fucking BCBS variants for once and try something new. My 2014 prediction is 19 dipshits in an Ohio backyard will drink this in 31 degree temperature and all agree that DDB was wrong and that no wine or chocolate came through from their meniscus pours. And the world keeps on turning. Happy 2014, suck on your own tits.

This beer is strange, but you secretly get off on it.

This beer is strange, but you secretly get off on it.

Narrative: Marcel Jevouire was a chocolatier with a tawdry, dark fetish. By day he was dipping strawberries and making chocolate ganauche, but when evening set he would pull out his box of spent wine cork and inhale deeply. That sticky grape, his cruel mistress of the night got his dick so hard even kittens claws couldn’t scratch it. The chocolate world was fine for children and pedestrian interests, but it was the wine world at night that got his barrels pumping hard. It was an adult pairing and an interplay of two worlds that only the most decadent Parisian could comprehend. Sometimes he would see a patron looking over chocolate truffles with a corked vintage peeking from their parcel, the tip gleaning that purple through the green glass would make his nipples erect through his mixing apron. Some would disapprove, but it was his own dark world of dry grapes and wet dreams.


@darkhorsebrewco 2010 Bourbon Barrel Plead the 5th and 2011 Plead the 5th Aigre, Sub 100 Bottle Counts Like a Red Nose

First and foremost, huge LYMI thanks to Tom TRXXXPXXXSSSS for droping both of these gems on the old DDB liver.

When I imagine that life is like in the cold north of Michigan, I think of bleak sheets of white, running 24th fret solos on a B.C. Rich guitar, and feeling those supple stretch mark grooves along the chest and thighs of that sweet Midwest PYT that I picked up at a bowling alley. These are my fantasies. For every person in Michigan that is large, there is a corresponding bottle count that is small. Such is the axiomatic nature of the beer world. 230 bottles of Blueberry Eisbock are released to husky beer nerds and all is correct in the world. Eating disorder Florida will drop 14,000 bottles of Huna and still live in denial about its weight. Balance to the force.

But what happens when Michigan drops a beer with 36 bottles like BBpt5 OG Edition 2010 750ml banana clip release? How about that 60(?) bottle beat drop of the Aigre? WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO THEN? If you said “slay whales” audibly at your cubicle, then yes, you are correct. You are also a fucking weirdo. Let’s get it.

Before you complain about small pours, I had plenty, please continue pulling your testicle skin over your tiny dick aka that tiny tent.

Before you complain about small pours, I had plenty, please continue pulling your testicle skin over your tiny dick aka that tiny tent.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States

Style | ABV
Russian Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV *

*My understanding is that these have changed over time and the first batch was like 15%+ the Aigre was (?) and the youdontgiveafuck was measured at an all time high.


In other words, I am not gonna dupe some content for the purpose of hoodwinking them loyal readers. Instead, I am gonna be a lazy shit and just point out WHAT IS DIFFERENT. Why set up the laptop when you can jerk it in bed to old beer pics on your phone? Right.

A: Both of these bottles have some lack luster ass carb. They seem a bit more thin than their “fresh” counterparts and I feel like time may have metabolized a bit in the spacious 750ml apartment. Floor to ceiling windows and shit. There is no lacing to speak of, but who is really speaking of lacing these days anyway besides some entry level Papazian dipshits?

When a brewery releases less than 100 bottles, you are drinking homebrew.  Some people just want to watch the world burn.

When a brewery releases less than 100 bottles, you are drinking homebrew. Some people just want to watch the world burn.

S: The 2010 bbpt5 is really muted and has a light char, some faded cocoa like chocolate milk left out overnight, the bourbon profile imparts more of a coconut and oaky ghost rather than the full on fisting that the fresh version pumps in 5 digits strong. The aigre is a totally different beast. I was expecting some Tart of Darkness fucking sour stout, but the sour profile is really nuanced and makes me doubt whether they really set out to make this sour. There is a cola/Dr. Pepper aspect with some black cherry and currant, but again, its really in the backfield kicking grass and not really contributing much to the company softball team. It is essentially pleading the 5th on the sour olfactory notes.

T: The bbpt5 OG version is kinda disappointing if you have had the super cutty, tongue kiss your aunt, erase all your save data hardcore fresh version. The roast is there, the bourbon and oak is really muted and integrated more like a sort of sweetness and faint prickly cherry finish. Truthfully, the valley between the aigre and the old ass BBpt5 is not that wide. Sure the aigre is sour, but it’s not exactly the mouth-fucking extravaganza you signed up for when you bought tickets to the lactic donkey show. The aigre offers up an amped up (3 of 10) tartness with a bit of plum, blackberry, but really turnt down. The original itself may have a mild infection, but the aigre is so light in execution it doesnt really step in the way. It’s not like when Funky Buddha takes you to summer camp and violates the fuck out of you with infection. This is more of a “touches your boner accidentally when reaching for the popcorn” sort of infection. It is there, but it doesn’t seem intentional, so it’s ok.

36 bottles. Bring this to a tasting and shitty Proprietor's tickers be like-

36 bottles. Bring this to a tasting and shitty Proprietor’s tickers be like-

M: The mouthfeelings on both of these are thin, wispy little endeavors and the abv is integrated seamlessly. The finish is closer to Event Horizon and Velvet Merkin than anything in the big boy realm. It could be the roast, it would be the age, or the dryness, but it’s a pretty seamless mouthfeel that coats, washes away, and then leaves no trace like a top tier escort. All is well in the mouth face tasting place.

D: The aigre was less drinkable, largely because there was a little prickly tartness at the finish that wasn’t a game changer, but it was more of a mild annoyance. It didn’t contribute much to the beer and came across like those stupid vents they put on cars that clearly don’t need them. It’s like, your car has no intercooler, you clearly dont need a fucking hood scoop. This beer was good as it is, you dont need some cherry/cranberry bitch in the backseat talking about how good Chick Fil A is. Furthermore, the 2010 bbpt5 was GOOD, but the fresh version is GREAT. The thin aspect kinda ruins that HUGE OPPRESSIVE bourbon waft and coating I have come to love smacking the underside of my perineum. That lil punishment made the experience worthwhile. This is too polite, goes down too easily, and finishes too quickly. I had to sound sleazy but stout tease me, I dont want it if it’s that easy.

When Tom dropped this on my doorstep it was like "well fuck, time to get to work"

When Tom dropped this on my doorstep it was like “well fuck, time to get to work”

Narrative: I already did a narrative for this beer. If you want an Aigre narrative, sprinkle in some tart references to a distant brother or something equally transparent. The writing on this site is two tips mushing until forever.


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

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

This beer is Bomb, Lloyd Banks is not.

This beer is Bomb, Lloyd Banks is not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Struise Double Black Stout, 26% abv for those times when Single Blacking Out Isn’t Enough

As my loyal readers may be aware, this site started with a compulsive desire to talk mad shit on every beer in every top 100 list, I think we are still on course. Aside from that, this beer would pop up at like 99 ever so often and I would have to whack a mole that shit constantly. Ever had Bligh’s Barleywine? I have, because it was in the top 100 for like 43 minutes. It is an amazing barleywine, I just want you to see the fucking troubles I encounter for your amusement. Anyway, this bottle was 70-100 euros and is a direct/less expensive analog to FIVE SQUARED albeit the stout version. So we ice distill the amazing Black Albert down to 26% and then drink it at Alesmith strictly for the lulz. Let’s get it.

Double Blacking out so hard on that 26% monster.

De Struise Brouwers
American Double / Imperial Stout | 26.00% ABV

A: For a beer with a staggeringly high abv, this actually was nicely carbed, but the crazy heat and inky thick vicosity strangle the bubbles out of this potation. The sheen is just that, double black. If Huna is an 8 on the darkness scale, this is an absolute black hole, absorbing all photons without mercy. The sheeting is the only thing keeping the staining malts at bay. You bust a sick swirl and watch the khaki darkness coat and then the huge alcohol sheeting comes down wet and clear, putting that pussy in a sarcophagus.

New beer users always obsess over ABV over actual taste, it is the fucking 9GAG of the beer world. Go drink 120 Min and eat my ass, this is big boy beer shit.

S: This goes HAM on all aspects, it goes apeshit with chocolate, deep hot bourbon, cocoa, intense roasted malts, light char, and a nice vanilla and coconut to the backend. I don’t know how they did this. Seriously. After suffering through Tactical Nuclear Penguin, I expected a nightmare from this, but it is incredibly drinkable and reminds me of an…imperial…Black Tuesday. Think about that shit for a moment. I am talking about a “single” format that is 19% abv. This is a full 7% above that. Game recognize game.

T: This will light up your chest like E.T. There is a deep bourbon at the outset with smoky malts to balance it and a deep chocolate finish. After the swallow the real fun begins, since most of this beer is in the residual power that you are going 12 rounds with. While it is in your mouth, it is too viscous and complex to discern elements, but after the swallow you get the emotions in waves, like being dumped on prom. You get a deep caramel and oak from the barrel, the roast lingers for a bit, there’s coconut and vanilla, finally a full 10 seconds later, you lick your teefers and get a butterscotch aspect. Then you look at your glass and realize you have another fucking 13 ounces to deal with.

I roll hard on 240 bottle releases, drop 100 euros on bottles, have them shipped from Belgium; thugging so hard.

M: I shouldn’t have to tell you what this coats like. This has a deeper coating than Trojan Twisted Sensations. You get this deep viscosity in the mouthfeel and upon swallowing you think that the experience is over since the heat from the bourbon and abv seems to burn off the residual sugars in your mouth, then the mendicant vagrants climb out from the cracks, sweet and chocolatey in the dystopian future that is your gumline.

D: I would be remiss to say that this is drinkable, per se. Sure, unless you are Shogokawada, you probably can’t merk a bottle to yourself. No hating on Shogo, I PROBABLY COULD, but then again look at my site, I have some demons going on beyond the ambit of most people lining up Netflix queues. So it would break down like this: you could drink half of this and enjoy it, I could drink a full bottle of this and then write a review like this, Shogokawda could drink a full bottle and then decide that it is time to get to work. And the hierarchy is maintained. Unless you are on a straight Brett Favre level, or on my Aaron Rodgers tip, pool your money like poor bastards and brag about this shit on the Matt Leinart scene, smiley as fuck.

At a certain point you just flex your beer lats, and go bat wing on all the haters. If you read this site, you already powerlevelled so hard.

Narrative: The cabinet of the Killer Instinct creaked with his intense power, sweating at the brow while ironically using Glacius. Sure he was 43 years old. Yes, he had a culdesac. Hell, Janus Milkerson even reeked of 4 Roses bourbon on the regular but no one would deny his ability to chain sick combos. To face him was to cast 2 quarters into the river of Styx, a hopeless endeavor. He was the darkest most hate filled individual in the entire arcade. Most children patronizing the location were doing just that, patronizing the location. To come to a place and spend hard currency on physical machines to imbibe the slow leak of outdated graphics was a strange foreign enterprise. “AH, and from when THINE CAME, thou shalt be returned!” Janus echoed, spitting upon the joystick, scaring the 5th grade opponent. He was the darkest, most hateful participant in the building, but he was strangely calm and poised in his madness. After playing a game with him, children would stand in cool reverence and wonder whether excellence was possible and whether the fleeting reality of shortsighted hedonism was a valid outlet, before exchanging their tickets for spider rings and jolly ranchers.


De Struise Five Squared, 130 euro bottle + 25% abv = Gucci Mane

Well let’s give a little background to those who missed the boat on this elusive, massive beast of a beer. De Struise took their Quad X and ice distilled it several times until it was 25% alcohol by volume. They made 240 of these, I understand that 216 of them were released to the public at the Alvinne Beer Festival to benefit a brewery expansion. This bottle was 130 euros and still had to be shipped from Belgium so, here we are. It finally ended its journey up in Kernville with Kyle and Eric from Kern River Brewing. What a life it led.

I usually hate on small pours from other janky beer blogs, at 25% abv, my 8oz pour was plenty.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 25.00% ABV

A: First I have to say this bottle took the wax game to a whole new level. There were about 5-6 layers of what can only be described as Crayola wax. After that wax shattered everywhere and made a huge mess I got the cap off to find a CORK as well. The old Cantillon/Fantome Belgian trick keeping things gully. So the onlookers at Kern River thought I was a huge prick for bringing this elaborate beer to a Citra release, but I got it open. It was actually carbed pretty nicely for the body with gentle microbubbles and this huge sheeting of alcohol that looked like clear solvent that left relentless clear curtains on the glass. The beer was ruby to amber in hue with a lightly hazy aspect to it. Very pretty, all in all.

Ice distilled? 25%? 200 American dollars? Let’s do this shit. I doesn’t afraid of anything.

S: The smell at low temperatures was turbinado sugars and some dark fruits but as it opened up it exuded this delicious boozy tiramisu, toasted marshmellow, caramel, butterscotch, and sweet brandy aspect to it. The whole affair felt like if Scrooge McDuck had a sweets cellar that you got to rifle through. Super decadent and over the top. The type of thing a 4th grader enjoys just before being tossed in an Econoline van.

T: While cold, this beer is pretty tame with some light toffee and aspects of red grape and plums, but when this beer neared room temperature the throttle was torn open and this went NoS foggers pretty quickly. There is a huge aspect of red grape, butterscotch, molasses, caramel, and figs. This is an incredibly complex beer that just lingers and provides a boozy warmth on the finish. All present were amazed that it was 25% alcohol, so if you were an eccentric millionaire, you could play some hilarious pranks on your friends with a few bottles of this.

This beer is strange, unforgettable, and you sure as shit will have a hell of a story to tell if you live through the experience.

M: This is the heaviest, stickiest, most coating I have ever experienced. This is not like Hunaphu’s where you go “wow that’s chewy” and swallow, I mean your teeth are coated in this sticky decadence. They don’t know what to do. It’s like melted caramel that lingers on and on with a boozy warmth. It is incredible and the perfect beer to share for when you finish Skyrim, kiss your first real girl, you know, epic moments.

D: This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but how drinkable do you think that an intensely heavy, 25% abv beer is? You aren’t exactly ordering a pint of this and tossing darts. This is more of the type of beer you watch while watching Millionaire Matchmaker so you can just black out everything you are taking in. I guess you CAN drink a lot of this, if you have the time. This is delicious and could be savored like a delicious brandy or fine bourbon, but most people aren’t drinking 16oz of neat bourbon and playing shuffleboard, at least not outside of Kentucky. I am not here to tell you how to live your life.

Hey bro, try this Belgian Pale Ale, it is 25% abv. Wait wat-

Narrative: Karl Venderberg lumbered slowly through the cafeteria wiping the sweat from his brow, despite the fact that it was a cool 47 degrees outside. “Hey Karl! You big Belgian teddybear!” Kandyss Lamont called to him and gave him a loving hug, attempting to get her arms over the sheets of alabaster folds that were his shoulders. “Herghhh KERNDESSS, I got, you this….flow….flowerrrr” he exhaled roughly and produced a crumpled lilac from his wet pocket. “OH I SAY KARL, you are the sweetest person with a thyroid problem that I HAVE EVER MET!” She kissed the uneven terrain of his skin and he smelled the Dr. Pepper lipgloss and immediately craved a Mr. Pibb. “I do not fucking get it” Chase Marks, local waterpolo all-pro, semi-regional champion quipped, “look at him, he is fat as fuck. I do not buy this Thyroid Problem, look he is eating a sandwich with brownies as bread and dipping it in tartar sauce. WHAT! Come on, now he is giving Kaelynn a mix CD he made?!” Karl wheezed and looked at Kaelynn’s impeccable bilateral bicuspids and azure blue eyes. He was the sweetest, most morbidly obese, most decadent student at Struise High School, and the ladies flocked to him. The thyroid problem was bullshit, but he got mad messages written in dust on his sick ride by the the stacked dimes at SHS.


Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, The Non-Barrel Aged Version Bangs on 808 Drums

Whenever someone brings up King Henry, I tell them just to drink Kuhnhenn Barleywine. They make delicious things and meads and sweet treats that people who dont live in a state shaped like an oven mitt seem to overlook. Today we look at the less celebrated, but still danky, regular old 4th Dementia.

I used the regular picture for BB4D and now I am using the Bourbon Barrel picture for the regular review, WHOA FREAKY FRIDAY.

Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, 13.5% abv

A: Nice raisin purplish color with deep amber and brown hues, very minimal carbonation and no lacing. This has always rustled my jimmies about Kuhnhenn beers. When Lost Abbey releases flat beer, everyone loses their shit and makes jpegs for days about it. Kuhnhenn just hangs up their mash paddle and calls it a day. In an Old Ale it really isn’t a big deal, but Road Rash, BB4D, 4D, BBBW, have all been as flat as Keanu Reeves dialogue. Leave Tomme Arthur alone, srsly guize.

When you see someone at a party sipping on a 13.5% abv beer, you know they embrace that tug life.

S: Smells of smoky tobacco and figs. It comes across like someone overboiled a batch of barley wine. There is a mild bourbon note but without the oakiness. The alcohol is well integrated and the charred caramel is good, it reminds me of the time I did a burnout on top of a box of Werthers Originals in my IROC Camaro.

T: There are initially no huge notes to speak of for a split second and then the smoky deep plums and dark fruits rise out of the watery murk and set up Hoovervilles. The taste resounds with a lightly bitter hop balance and just reverberates like church bells in an abbey. When this beer warms up, things become real in and around the field, stone fruits, bruised peaches, plums, figs; it is like Gamgam’s Apotehcary, which is what I will name my Old Ale if I ever brew one.

There’s so much going on in this beer, you may miss the subtle nuances. Give it time.

M: The mouthfeel is surprising light for a beer this huge, also, the booziness is kept to a minimum. It is very impressive that they were able to pull this off with such a strangely balanced imbalance. I mean that the notes are very aggressive and watery at the same time. It doesn’t fill you up and doesn’t have a huge maltiness but manages to coat very aggressively. Nicely done.

D: I never understood the different between aggressive barley wines and olde ales but this is an exceptional example of an “Imperial” Barleywine which is basically an Olde Ale as far as I can tell. Some people will get butthurt and point out differences in the malt bill and the grain profile, start mumbling something about residual sugars but, come on, we all know who you really banging on the side. It has all of the deep dark fruits reduced to a syrupy watery mouthfeel. The taste is very good and it is therefore a pleasure to drink regardless of circumstance, however, the abv is prohibitive and the lingering almost coppery agro deep fruit notes may be difficult over a long session.

You’re expecting one thing, you get something else that is equally awesome, and all the kids need tomato juice baths.

Narrative: “Just chopping and screwing beats all day man, if I aint in the lab, I aint worth nay thin.” DJ4D had an impressive work ethic and remained steadfast in his phillipic against the illusory “haters” that allegedly were constantly holding him back. “They said “yo 4D, you just layed the most savory stickiest flows we ever heard, then I pulled it clean on them and dropped sweet notes right on the treble, see haters hate when you pull of that saccharine shit, they just sit back, judging your sticky crispiness.” The reporter nodded pensively and scribbled furiously, hovering up these gems for his forthcoming article. “THAT’S WHY I PUT THE GRAPEVINE JAMS UP IN THE MIX BECAUSE YOU JUST ALWAYS GOTTA KEEP IT STICKY FOR THE HATERS.” His furrowed brown knitted his fitted cap back; the Expos logo bobbed in concurrence with every statement. None of this made any sense and people would question the death of print media with every word.


Avery Uncle Jacob’s Stout, A Stout that Socks You 215 years Beyond the Grave

Avery beers have been divisive for me, sometimes it is a tart delight, other times it is a dramatic wine substitute. This is a nice foray into the world of their hellish huge beers in the same lineage as Mephistopheles, The Beast, Grand Cru, etc. I enjoyed one of those three, so we shall see how this 17.42% abv giant socks me in the face in today’s review.

The Left Hand glass is appropriate because this beer straight slapped me across the face.

Avery Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 17.42% ABV

Let’s let the label speak for itself:

In the quest to create a collection of barrel-aged beers to be reproduced annually, Avery Brewing Company is releasing Uncle Jacob’s Stout, the second member of its Annual Barrel Series. The collection began with Rumpkin rum barrel-aged pumpkin ale in the fall of 2011, and now continues with this 17.4% ABV stout that was aged in first-use Bourbon barrels for 6 months. While the Avery Barrel-Aged Series features one-time-only batches, such as the recent Muscat d’Amour and Récolte Sauvage, the Annual Barrel Series features a selection of cellarable barrel-aged beers that fans can return to and get to know every year.

In other words, get ready to get socked in the liver.

A: This is jet black, Joan Jett black and this beer loves rock and/or roll. The lacing is minimal largely due to the huge slick sheeting imparted by the massive ABV. It settles to an inky blackness almost instantly but I wouldn’t expect my tank class to be nimble.

This beer will beat you ass, but you won’t feel embarrassed about it at all, well maybe a little.

S: The smell of this beer isn’t too menacing and almost comes across as something at half the alcohol content. There’s some gentle chocolate and brownie batter smell that subsides into some nice light char similar to a sweet Cohiba cigar. The bourbon has that oaky vanilla aspect similar to single barrel Buffalo Trace, but at 684 cases you know they used Rebel Yell or some shit that Eclipse nerds go apeshit for. Smells good, but this is the eye of the storm.

T: The sweetness of the bourbon rolls onto the sweet zones like tight sickles prickling the entire way back in a crackly chocolate pop rocks sensation. The light char can barely hold back the massive kraken that is the bourbon and sweet malts profile. Even the baker’s chocolate looks pissed, furiously rolling out baked macaroon shurikens and tossing them down the back of my throat.

Maybe it is the 17.4% abv, or maybe I am just too immature for this shit. Or both.

M: This is as hot as a New Mexico meth lab and scorches the insides just the same. The chocolate and coffee notes haunt like specters of mouths past, letting me know that this 12oz bottle should have been shared but, oh well, too late for those prodigious moments, off to 17.42% assaults. The chocolate octagon takes it out on your liver and Uncle Jacob stares on knowingly from a bourbon barrel altar, thumbing through the maltronomicon.

D: This is a tough call, at the outset I want to pull the simple “too hot, too big” red flag like all the haters but, I don’t think deserves that treatment. Sure it is a behemoth to wrangle and puts you back in 6th grade pretty quickly, the 16 bit RPGs are busted out after a single bottle. Sure you CAN drink a single bottle, but you certainly SHOULDN’T. I mean, sure I did, but do you want to be like me? Buying clothes at the LA Morgue and running a website that talks shit on beer nerds and hipsters? Well, I guess it isn’t so bad.

I guess this is similar to being put at peace, it is tantamount to self administered anesthesia.

Narrative: “This is a cop out but, I can’t formulate a reasonable response to this beer. My chest feels like E.T. punched my sternum and my mouth is like a 5th grade sleepover chocolate binge. I was gonna write this dystopian steampunk novella about a chocolate harbinger that steals bourbon souls, or some shit, but after a couple beers and then this haymaker, the creative juices are frozen in my head. I homebrewed something of a similar strength that was aged on Willet oak and it gave me this same heat in my chest and light residual headaches. Maybe I am just a cooze, maybe I could have just framed it as a first person narrative from some dialogue mouthpiece but oh well, here we are-” Thomas Jacobs thought to himself in his 8th grade algebra class, thinking of the 6’er of Coronas he had hidden under his bed.


Peg’s Cantina G.O.O.D. Rare D.O.S., C:/run_DOSwhale.rar IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE

For anyone watching at home that isn’t familiar with this big fat cetacean beast, this is the initmitable Rare D.O.S. I am sure that the RareR was amazing, but this is the unassailable O.G. of the stout world. I am hesitant to toss around definitive titles but this may be the best stout that I have ever had. I said it. What your stout got to do with me? I ain’t trying to hear that see.

This may have been the mostly costly stout that I have ever landed, excepting a certain black whale that is forthcoming.

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

This has never been bottled. This has never been growlered. It took some seriously shady maneuvers to lock this one down, enjoy the fruits of my efforts.

A: This came from a 15oz swingtop so at the outset I figured that this would be flatter than Keira Knightley but it actually still came through with a huge viscosity, deep sheeting like Bed Bath and Beyond. The lacing still arranged mocha foam streamers like some barista baby shower. The deep mahogany pool reflects my failures like the portal at Delphi.

I hope you tried plenty of great bourbon barrel stouts before this one, because this beer will end that shit pretty quickly.

S: God damn this smells so good. This is like the discarded uniforms of the employees from See’s Candy. There is a nice charred molasses and baker’s chocolate that feels like a Sequoia and Willy Wonka scrapped it up hard. There’s also muted marshmallow foam and vanilla bean on the backend. It is an extremely well balanced and delicious smell. It takes the ultimate Voltron aspects of my favorite stouts and composes this beast mode Power Ranger amalgamate for a crazy hybrid stout.

T: This is the best tasting stout that I have ever encountered with the tight reigns of Goose Island Rare pulled close. To think that this second hand handbottle approached the throne of the best stouts that I have ever had and comfortably sits upon the throne. I can only imagine this fresh off the tap, but that would require a trip to Florida, a prospect that seems like slamming my cock in a bourbon barrel aged car door. Alas I digress, this beer tastes amazing and I can’t honestly rattle off the traditional cadre of adjectives because it killed my palate in such an inventive way that it seems like a series of serial murders that remains unrequited to date.

I dream of a world where everyone can enjoy beers like this, without having their handbottles questioned.

M: The mouthfeel has a coating somewhere inbetween Huna and Abyss but delivers much longer lasting satisfaction on the sweet coffee notes that just resonates like an Adele wail. You didn’t even have to get dumped by a chubby chaser to enjoy this beer. The sheeting coasts like a bourbon SeaDoo kicking up a noteworthy vanilla froth.

D: If you have ever seen some crazy shit on AMC that you can’t explain to anyone that approaches brilliance, you will know how it feels to try this. It was like a fleeting phantom that I opened alone like a complete asshole on a Tuesday night and I sat looking at the wall like an apparition in Plato’s cave. I have had other stouts that approach this archetype but this particular little gem from a certain unnamed source rocked my conception of what bourbon stouts could be. If you have seen my site, I have had a few within the genre. I could easily merk a growler of this and smile under the dialysis machine.

My face was all like this when the bottle was gone, but I was too lost in the moment for a fuck to spare.

Narrative: It was the day of the MCATs and Jordan Belzer felt a tinge of panic in his brow but knowingly patted the inside of his jacket. The sweet caress of the cool 15oz bottle gave him the assurance that he needed to pull through this endeavor. “At the sound of the alarm, you may begin the examination” the proctor announced and Jordan spit out a chocolate candy from his gumline with khaki stained teeth and grinned to himself. The alarm sounded and Jordan took a deep pull from his medicinal bottle within his Kill City jacket and felt the sweet elixit run through his veins, edifying everything that he had known before and after, all synapses blasting on full bourbon glory. Jordan was technically intoxicated while completing each section, but it was a lightning fast panache, and the brew/apothecary in Koreatown did not lie. Whether it was the tiger penis or the phen phen in the chocolately solution, he achieved the peaks of greatness he would never know again. “BZZZZZZ!!!!” the final alarm buzzed and Jordan awoke to find the entire test completed. He staggered out into the afternoon sun and squinted at the prospect of medical school and gripped his empty glass container. The swingtop clipped back and forth jovially, almost calling him to the apex of greatness that the liquid blessing just imposed upon him. Jordan spit a deep vanilla black expiration upon the asphalt and watched it glimmer in the summer sun. He had just approached the edge of greatness and blacked out to tell about it.


The Bruery Barrel Aged Partridge in a Pear Tree, The Bird Did Not Survive

Going hard in the paint for this one, the inimitable, elusive ornithopter that everyone seems to be breaking their backs to land. Did putting a rare bird in a barrel make it better? Is Christmas observed by beer nerds? Can a wale fit in a barrel? These questions all answered today.

And a fat wale in a cellar tree.

The Bruery
California, United States
Quadrupel (Quad) | 11.00% ABV

A: This beer has a beautiful murky brown hue that is ugly but lovely at the same time, like a pug. The lacing is minimal but for style and abv, this seems about right. The turbid slosh lets you know that this beer is tough to excite and the mahogany hues seem inviting but standoffish at the same time, like most real estate agents.

To most beer nerds, this is the unapproachable .rar deity that will never be seen.

S: The bourbon has been muted a bit and comes off in more of a caramel sweetness mixed with some melted Rolos and stone fruits. I also get some wafts of black cherry and mild char, but they are cameos like the pizza guy in a sit com.

T: The taste sits straddling English Barleywine and Quad, not quite committing to either, but the bourbon drags both parties along like a Victorian love triangle. Boozy Mr. Darcy presents his hand and dances elegantly with your palate as the oak and vanilla take center stage in the proceedings. Mild caramel and figs sit amongst the court looking onward as the malts fall deftly underneath his tender hand. The entire affair is brash but calculated, it is far better than the other ratings would intimate.

BARREL AGED PiaPT!!11One!!! time to pump up the jams.

M: The mouthfeel has a sticky coating and that is removed like vagrant graffiti by the taming bourbon heat. The result is a perpetual motion machine, vis a vis, your arm, that empties your glass expeditiously. I try to savor these rare gems, knowing that it will be a complete pain in the ass to land again, but, tickers gonna tick.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and drinking it in June was a fitting mid-Christmas observance of the summer solstice. Things got pagan and bacchanalian pretty quickly but I wanted more. That’s the problem with gorging yourself on whale fat, only so many whales to slay in the day. I would recommend this, but that’s like a dick who gives a 5 star to a Bugatti Veyron and says “GO GET ONE DONT DENY YOURSELF THIS TREAT.” It’s like “thanks, also, fuck you.”

This beer is exceptional, rare, and noteworthy in its own distinct manner.

Narrative: Cardinal Dolcini had granted more indulgences than the suppressed fiefs could endure. This clip clop of his glorious raiment resonated through the muddy streets. In the filthiest district in Burgundy, he was charged with providing sweet succor to the mealy mouthed common people. The simple breads and sweets were purveyed with grimy hands and impure hearts and Dolcini could only look upon the serfs with loving disdain. The feudal classes ate decadent caramel plums and complained of oxidation in their rich “burned water.” The inequities were apparent. The blessings of the rare treats were largely conferred upon a small minority who held them with incredible avarice, never allowing the merchant classes a single taste. Their vaults contained more treats than could ever be sold in a lifetime, much less consumed, but it was their lineage and birthright to stand proudly above the menial machinations of common libations. “Y’er excellency, sweet cubes, 2 livre.” The sweet cubes were so readily available, so common, so unabashedly predictable in flavor and execution that a titled individual would never stoop so low to consume what would surely be a forgettable tryst.