Category Archives: IPA

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Surly Furious IPA, THIS BEER MAKES ME SO MAD RIGHT NOW SRSLY GUIZE.

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THIS BEER MAKES ME FEEL CONTENT AND NOT FURIOUS ARGGHH FALSE ADVERTISSIONSDGOINDSGOIN-

Surly Furious

A: Orange radiance that calls more to a DIPA the way that the carbonation sloshes all over the sides like it owns the place. Nice big bubbles that dissipate fairly quickly.

S: There’s a huge pineapple citrus bouquet to this that doesn’t bring along the irksome herbal/pine qualities that some single IPAs try and push on you. I enjoyed the traditional grapefruit notes but there’s also this little sneaky pete of toffee that pokes its head in there for a moment as well. I wish he would stay but apparently, non-citrus notes are not invited to hang out.

Surly Furious here to save the day.

T: The first taste is a bit thin with a huge orangey orange to it, it subsides to a gentle bitterness and washes away clean and fast. There is no real lingering aftertaste, just a one two combo and a ninja roll out the side door leaving orange rind in the entry way. Luckily the inexpensive 16oz cans don’t leave you high and dry, you are sufficiently low and…uh…wet. I GUESS!

M: Again, this is not exceptionally thick or chewy and it is even thinner than many hef’s and lower ABV beers. It is interesting in how completely lopsided that the beer is with a huge flavor and relatively low ABV and mouthfeel. If this were an army man, it would be the dude who carries the metal detector. Not because it is a raging vagina, it just serves a niche purpose, and an awesome one at that.

Single IPAs can get you double twisted.

D: This is incredibly drinkable top to bottom. Well, it’s the same all the way through but you know what I am trying to…it’s…you can drink it ok? This is similar to the Masala Mama category where they need to up the serving sizes if for nothing else but my own self esteem. I could kill a 4 pack of this without reproach and glance menacingly around the room for someone to say something. Take a sip and if your glass isn’t empty in a forthright fashion, you are doing this beer wrong.

Single IPA, for this cheap, that is this good. Confus.

Narrative: “Professor Mailer, the subjects aren’t responding to the medication, hell, even the control groups are becoming more enraged,” the lab technician pleaded while gesturing towards graphs which can only be sure to contain sciences. “MONITOR THEIR FURY, it is the fury I seek, not the intermediate results.” Professor Mailer boomed as he slammed his protractor on the desk, sending science all over the place. The lab technicians poked in on the control group playing the Dam Level of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for Nintendo and noted that the furious levels were through the roof. Next they monitored someone on hold with the DMV, the fury again was unparalleled. “Sir? According to these calculations, the furiousness of each group, even the control group has actually increased. Sir?” Professor Mailer insouciantly spun some sciences on his desk, in a sciencey fashion. “And the literature camp?” he impugned, “well sir, without even taking the medication, the group forced to read Mrs. Dalloway was, well, very, very, pissed.” “Excellent, proceed to phase two, up the dosage and administer Superman 64 to each group” he commanded with a refined poise.

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New England Brewing Company Gandhi-bot Double IPA, Civilly Disobediently Disliking this DIPA.

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This gives complications to stoicism and fasting. I HOPE THE DOCILE TERMINATORS WIN.

This is a beer that gets a lot of hype from east coast kids. They savor the opportunity to hang their hat on a double IPA. Here we go-

New England Brewing Company Gandhi-Bot Double IPA 8.8% abv

A: It has a radiantly golden hue with a ridiculous amount of carbonation and thick white foam. It has crazy amount of lacing like soap scum, but in a cool ass way. It’s pretty sticky and glaring at the same time. It reminds me of a 14k pliny the elder, pliny the middleaged.

The feel of this beer is refreshing and familiar, completely unlike God's punchline pictured above.

S: Again, this is suspiciously Pliny in execution. The entire nose is that precariously pine and orange zest. I feel like I have seen this movie before like when I saw No Strings Attached and, that other movie, what is it, Birth of a Nation, back to back.

T: This is definitely the Honda to Pliny’s Acura. It has that same feel, with less maltiness. It has those same orange and grapefruit hops, but just ratcheted back. Everything is just muted a little bit, more water, more pine, it feels like they took this in a Lysol direction. It is still an exceptional offering but you almost have to be an asshole in a category this contested. For those of you keeping track, the top 5 DIPAs that you absolutely must try are: Ephraim, Citra, Heady Topper, Pliny, and Abner. This is not within those ranks. It is still good, but a good ipa a great ipa does not make.

I would like to speak to the original brewer of this recipe. That's what I thought.

M: this has some crystal and 2 row, simple hat tricks for the genre but lacks that punch and radical wow factor. It lays a little low in the mouthfeel and kinda opts for a gentle coating and simple hop profile that is still exemplary but feels like the Monkees to the Beat-ok ok ok ok enough sappy metaphors.

D: This is awesomely drinkable and outshines Pliny in this regard. It has a thinner profile and I want to hang out with it more. It seems like it listens to my stories more intently without butting in. Ultimately, I dislike this beer for the same reason that I don’t respect Chrysler. You can make your own shit, dont jock another brand. Katt Williams said it best “Yeah you think it looks like a Phantom, until a real Phantom pulls up.” And when I pull up Ephraim to this DIPA, the game just changes.

This beer kills normal Double IPAs but remains untested in the main tournament.

Narrative:

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Coastal Fog Brewing India Pale Ale, The Bay Area Rolls out something more lackluster than Silicon Valley children.

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Coastal Fog usually tastes like Parliaments and salt, now it tastes like escort spit.

Ok so, this is the lowest rated IPA in the beer community and is (in)famous for being the only IPA in the worst 50 beers category. Today I wrangle this gentle flower and get its pistil and stamen all up in my face.

Coastal Fog India Pale Ale, 5.2% ABV

A: The appearance is nothing too offensive, but also nothing exceptionally wrong either. It has a muted copper and penny look to it like oh, I dont know, an ESB. Does that make you happy? You want labels. FINE. There’s your label, translucent lake water, now go find it in Behr and do you child’s nursery in it. Also, the lacing and carbonation is great, its like the lake after a sick Eliminator goes through straight up eliminating.

Worst IPA Ever? Go on. I am listening.

S: The hop profile is not usual for a single IPA but it isn’t really that bad either. It has a huge wateriness to it, but that might be intentional for a casual fun IPA. Who knows. It has a mild turbinado sugar like a watered down belgian dubbel and finally some hops that are a bit like unraked yard trimmings. it isn’t really that bad, like how Blossom was ok, but if you compare this beer to a real show like Breaking Bad, it’s going to seem shitty by comparison. WHOA.

T: The taste is really thin and watery with an initial sweet honey note to it like if you did a 3:1 water ratio with Hopslam (3oz water 1oz Hopslam) but it has a nice little redeeming pine at the end. Like when you walk into a bathroom and it clearly smells like deuce, but then someone has a forest Glade plug in to let you know that they were at least trying.

M: Ok so, if you missed it, it is watery. Sessionable as hell and almost to the point where I wonder how much crystal and 2 row that they actually used. It comes off almost more like an English Mild in a way, but oh well, haters gonna hate. I feel like the threadbare old white cop who learned something from my renegade partner that, I shouldn’t just judge IPAs on the face of things, and never to touch an IPA’s radio when he is being all sassy.

This beer is not going through any phases, this is exactly how it really tastes. No need to age this.

D: Well, this is kinda drinkable, I GUESS. Furthermore, it is pretty thin and doesn’t really dry out the gumline. It doesn’t really bother me, but I dont really get excited drinking it either. The ho’s and hum’s cascade effortlessly. However, this beer is cheap. I think I got a bomber for $2.99 so there’s that. But then Lagunitas doesn’t taste like bidet water and it is about the same price so, oh well. Is it as bad as everyone says? Not hardly. It’s not even the worst IPA that I have ever had. I think anything by Hermitage is far worse. It enjoys a fate worse than awful, the purgatory of “oh? I forget, no dont get that.”

Coastal Fog did not do the cooking by the book.

Narrative: Clive Worthington was the smoothest loan restructuring agent in the tricounty area, but you wouldn’t see his phone ringing anytime soon. Sure, people loved having their mortgage rates adjusted, and Clive cut through the red tape with the slickest of ease. Once it was over, Clive was left with a series of pink carbon copies and an empty heart. Who ever calls the old loan structure specialist? No one. Real Estate agents get invited to housewarming parties, but old Clive just stares out the window at the children making obscene snow sculptures and wonders what love feels like. He has his model trains at home, his botanical garden, and of course his Ziggy comics, but no one would ask old Clive to a wedding, or even a funeral. He was ultimately not a bad guy, just a guy who was there when things were bad. The opposite of a fairweather friend really. Clive smiled as a child was pushed into a snow vagina and nodded his head knowing that he would die alone. The child climbed out of the crude snow crevasse and shouted to his mother when he noticed that old man Worthington was watching them with no pants on again.

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Flossmore Station Railhopper IPA, Getting my Rails Hopped So Hard Right Now.

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My rails get all hopped just looking at this beer.

Flossmore Station Railhopper IPA, 7% abv

A: Nothing too crazy here, nice bright amber with deep gold hues, decent carbonation that mellows pretty quickly, not exceptionally beautiful but nothing ugly about it. A solid ale on the streets but a hoppy freak in the sheets.

S: Some orange rind and some mild sweetness but not a huge nose to this, maybe it’s because it was 2 months old, but I don’t see that being a great alibi because even the subtle notes arent there. It has a very flat olfactory character. No amount of clever writing will make Ashton Kutcher likeable, no amount of artful smells will make this crazy interesting.

You enjoy this IPA? How about I slap your shit?

T: This tastes like a 1.5 IPA, I say that with the respect that it has a nice light citrus character and a mellow piney character. There’s nothing wrong with it but it’s just lackluster. It sidesaddles two genres and comes off feeling a bit weak and generic. I don’t want all “Fresh Hopslam” proponents to get all up in arms but this just seems rather hackneyed for a brewery that rolls out crazy original. I harm them because I love them and just expect more. There’s not excuse for domestic hop violence.

M: Very good, nice crispness without being overly drying. Nice bubbles throughout and a taste that lingers without being oppressive like some Maharajas that I know. No overly herbal character, but it will be difficult to pick it out of a lineup of IPAs. It doesn’t have that certain joi de vivre that most flagship IPAs will maintain.

I should have drank this sooner.

D: Very drinkable, if accessible. I don’t want to insult it as an “entry level IPA” like a monicre I would give to Ranger IPA, but it just feels like someone phoned it in on either the hop bill or just went for the standard grain bill or something. Maybe I am just being an IPA curmudgeon, who knows. Certainly drinkable but it wouldn’t be my go to over the stable (D)IPAs like Pliny/Sculpin etc/

Narrative: “You can’t return this, at least not without a receipt, and then unfortunately you can only receive store credit at FashionBug.” His demeanor was cool and calm, Waylon Lupus was the calm store manager notorious for difusing tense situations. “Now please, if you would like another spandex unitard, you can feel free to select another that is to your liking.” He did not maintain a smile or the slightest bit of hesitation while addressing the irate female single mother desperately searching for deals. His voice was monotone and crisp, like an audio book revealing depressing consumer news to crestfallen patrons. “Perhaps I could show you our wide selection of strapless patent leather shoes?” He uttered effortlessly and slid whimsically towards the appropriate section, mesmerizing his pacified companion. “No one knows your greatness Waylon, no one but me,” a soft voice uttered in the security booth while tracing a single finger across the monitor looking over the shoe aisle. “No one but me.”