Category Archives: sour

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Reinaert Flemish Wild Ale, Almost As Wild As Oscar Wilde, But Not Nearly As Sassy

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Time to start dredging the old reviews to see what the world used to be like when even a trip to the corner store was an exciting adventure before I was a Fedex dependent asshole. Anyway, let’s see what is shaking with today’s wild ale, a spicy lil belgian gem that is pretty widely available.

Wanna know what it looks like out of the bottle? Too bad, old me didn’t have that kinda foresight.

De Proefbrouwerij (bvba Andelot)
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 9.00% ABV

A: very light color, pilsner almost, golden to dark yellow, nice three finger head with moderate lacing, little crackling to it like when Johhny Five gets hit by lightning and is imbued with a sassy new life.

Hipster bunny approves of wild ales of all styles even HOPPY wild ales.

S: This has citrus, sour grapes, a lemon zest to it and a kiwi undertone. There’s a bit of fall and DMV musk to it, but overall, a pretty tame affair as far as “wild” ales go.

T: This wild is very mellow on the palate, imparts a sweetness similar to most belgian goldens with that biscuity maltiness, pillowy soft sweet finish, not exactly comparable to the American wild ale type, but still very well done, the sourness of the Bretanomyces is very restrained, the sour undertones come near the end and are almost hand in hand with the light hops. The untrained palate would almost mistake this for a more malty pilsner. I guess if you feel like a light challenge this is where to go. Then you don’t get the shit beat out of your mouth like playing Battletoads on single player.

I am not saying that wild ales should destroy your mouth but… aliens.


M: This has good coating for its light appearance, it takes a few seconds to absolve the taste, but then there’s some good coating and lingering aftertaste of mellow hops. I can polish my monocle and enjoy this lazily by the Seine river, or in Alabama, either way.

D: Overall, very drinkable, not exceptionally noteworthy, and rather cost prohibitive for the average wild ale consumer. For the same price you could drink damnations all day which I feel is superior in almost every category, alas that is comparing different classes of beers. One thing I will note is the exceptional covering of the 9% alcohol, it is imperceptibly hidden in a sweetness and the floury maltiness. Perfect for entry level beer drinkers with ABV interests. ABV-curious if you will.

My face when wild ales don’t bring the sour rage.

Narrative: “nah nah, just a couple days” he lazily smiled, “just until I get my things together.” How could you say no? He was such a close friend in high school, sweet, cloying, palpable, but now he’s dominating 2/3rds of your living room as his capricious abode. “See the plan is, I am getting my pilots licens-” you start to dreamily daze off while looking into his eyes, there’s something empty to him, yet intoxicating at the same time, “yeah so basically after I fought that guy I was out of Cici’s pizza and it was a shithole anyway” he continues. Why are you letting him stay here? there’s nothing exceptional about him but you just incurred signifcant expenses making him a nice dinner, it, wow his eyes look like poolwater, just a sweet discountenance that lures you in. “OH SHIT NETFLIX! ABOUT TO ADD SOME TITES! Thats what I call titles” ok at this point he’s getting a bit irritating, but the way his bicuspids fortuitously lean against his incisors, that smile, he could leave his ASICS gym bag on your Z Gallerie coffee table all week. “Sure..sure..” you meekly reply, knowing that this short stay will be fulfilling, yet deceptive.

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Johnathon Wakefield Fruit Berliner MASHUPS, For Beer Drinkers with Scurvy and Dental Insurance

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Alright so let me see if I have my facts straight here, renegade brewer Johnathon Wakefield from Florida has been cooking up crazy new sours/Berliners/wilds for some time now. Cigar City had him come on as a hired gun to make Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner for Hunahpu Day and people’s jimmies were rustled so hard. Anyway, I have 4 of his fruited berliners for todays mega-mashup review, FOUR TIMES THE REVIEW FOR YOUR ZERO DOLLAR INVESTMENT.

Well let’s start this off with the titleholder for Ratebeer #1 Berlinerweiss, Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner

DFPF, hot sticky sour action, NSFW, 18+ only.

Just look at that beer, god damn. It looks like someone at the Juicy Juice factory decided that toddlers needed to sip on some purple drank. This wheat beer has some serious purple hues, majestic magenta, and radiant pink hues at the edges. The smell is like a bag of tropical jolly ranchers, all the obscure fruits kids know only in sucrose and high fructose corn syrup form: guava, mango, passion fruit, durian. The taste is sharp with a high and tight acidity that hits my bicuspids first and starts tearing shit up like a meth addict on Christmas morning in a tropical rehabilitation facility. There’s notes of tropical starburst, Welch’s grape/passion fruit blends, and things girls order when white sand beaches are within a 5 mile radius.

When I poured this out of the growler and saw girly purple drank, I was like-

Verdict: Probably the second best berliner that I have ever tasted, which bring me to MIAMI MADNESSSSSS

The original name for this was Cleveland Madness, but that beer was bitter, full of depressing riverwater, and unemployment.

This beer finally addresses that old conflict I always seem to be running into: drink juice or beer for breakfast? Well, now you get the best of both worlds, seriously, there is so much juice and fruit exploding from this beer I hesitate to state that it is technically “on style” but Funky Buddha’s berliners weren’t on style either but god damn are these beers delicious. The smell has a shipwrecked aspect to it of apricot, huge pineapple, and not in an alpha acid hop way, I mean like acidic juice in your eyes pineapple. The waft continues with some tangelo and a brackish aspect to it that somehow works in this beer. The taste reminds me of an ultra classy greyhound or top shelf jungle juice with huge citrus and tropical acidity like a mai tai. I can’t stress this enough, the fruit is overwhelming and casts a lunar eclipse over the wheat base beer toiling below like a Morlock. The finish has a thick coating of juicy pulpiness.

Juicey acidity, tropical fruits, and a german weissbier? I don’t even know what this site is about anymore.

I love this beer, despite the overload of nutrition presented, but then A NEW CHALLENGER APPEARS-

In collaboration with Jamba Juice, the chunkiest wheat beer this side of Nordstrom Rack.

Holy chunkadunk. This beer has coating in a realm usually reserved for Abyss, but in an entirely different manner: STRAWBERRY RHUBARB. Part of rhubarb will kill you if you eat the wrong part. First we get juice, now straight up vegetables on this site? I know, this isn’t a Jillian Michaels crossfit nutrition guilt trip, just a chunky thick berliner to sip on while you shop for size 42 jeans online. The smell is straight up strawberry, tart jolly rancher, red skittles, and a light raspberry. The taste flips the shit switch and goes into a strawberry voltron that packs a light milky lactose aspect, yogurt, and jamba juice vitamin C boost. Again, the fruit just serves as overlord to the wheat aspect of this beer. SPAWN MORE OVERLORDS.

Four amazing Berliners in one night? Damn, I gotta prep for this one.

So we have seen the tropics, jamba juice, and the inside of an alcoholic crossfit studio, now we wander to latin america and taste some sticky watermelon sex-

Holy murky Prussian mouthgasms. Not sure if this is the dregs of a Cuban fruit cart or a tart treat from Florida: TRICK QUESTION THOSE ARE THE SAME THING.

MORAL IMPERATIVE WATERMELON BERLINER.

Well, this may not be the prettiest beer in the world, but I am sure saltwater aquarium enthusiasts will be on board for this one. The murky nature just lets me know what this berliner is hiding underneathe, like those M.A.S.K. toys where a boring ass gas station turns into a battle station, this beer mobilizes for war like El Salvador. The smell is water watermelon pulp, O BANG, Mexican restaurant refreshments, light vegetal aspect, white seeds, and a sharp acidity on the back end. The taste follows the nose like Toucan Sam and takes you to a seedy burrito spot in the Mission almost instantly. The pulp and murkiness just serves as a vessel to the D-Day fruit war that is your back palate, the heavy artillery shells with sour bombs on the bitter zones throughout and several fruity purple hearts are awarded to all. YOU MADE IT SOLDIER. The vegetal aspect is the only “authentic” aspect I have a real complain with, the white rind seems out of place but adds authenticity to the brew. “Tell…tell my mom I died honorably, not juicing watermelons for an esoteric ::COUGH::: weisssss-”

This was my least favorite of the four, but it was still pretty cool, Mr. Heisenberg.

So there you have it, all four done in one review, and NO ONE SAID IT COULDN’T NOT BE DONE! And let me allay your concerns, no narrative today you greedy cocks, I can’t assemble these four beers into a fruit Voltron to- wait…that’s a brilliant premise. Maybe with the next Wakefield series you can see the chilling conclusion of what happens to Fruitron: Protector of Dade County.

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Lost Abbey Veritas 007, Secret Agent Wild Ale, Busting Tart Spy Missions All Up in your Face

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I feel like I have been wrestling with Lost Abbey lately and constantly looking in my rearview mirror, but one thing that I know is, aside from Duck Duck Gooze, this is probably my favorite sour that they have ever made and, spoiler alert, it is damn good. If landing this beer wasn’t such a kick in the taint, I would seek it out all the time. Let’s get this sourgasm going on today’s review.

Again, I forget if this is V009 or V007, you dont care, just close that Brazzers tab for a second and pay attention.

Veritas 007, Lost Abbey
American Wild Ale, 7% abv

A: This beer has a radiant glow to it and makes me suspect that Witches Wit or some golden was the base beer but, absent some searching on Alta Vista or AOL, the world may never know. Pathetic crackly carobnation and non-commital lacing make this beer ineligible for Jdate. Not sure where the tremblant red colors came from but, hey, belly up to the bar non-standard coloring, even a crazy off pink hue is welcome in these parts.

I can only assume that this beer will get more bad ass over time. If that is even possible.

S: This has that funky Jolly Pumpkin signature wet bandaids with sobbed upon cardboard smell to it. Sure there’s wheat and a tart finish but the trials of a broken breakdancer are the soul of the enterprise. Also, cherries and that aggressive raspberry that ruins everyone’s game and takes over shit rapaciously.

T: This has an incredibly expansive character with cherry and raspberry at the forefront. It mellow a bit, I was told but that is like saying that the kid with ADD is doing a little bit less shitty at math. This is still incredibly tart like a cider rampage but with more dryness. Somehow, skittles got invited to this bruja and decided that archetypical tart fruits would follow up the swallow. This is orgasm in a cup for a 6 year old palate. That, no I mean, it is what a 6 year old would really enjo-, shit nevermind, next category.

This beer is bizarre yet strangely refined.

M: This is super drying and light but refreshing. It would be more refreshing if I wasn’t so stressed out about drinking it at all. I can’t fault it for its existence. Sometime when I drink a rare beer, that comes through consciously and I am aware of it, denaturing the experience. I once drank ISO:FT and loved it, and then when someone told me what it was I bemoaned my fast gulps and distention to detail. This is a fantastic beer and the mouthfeel just served a self-destructive function. It was gone so quickly, said the Lotto winner, sobbing into a 4 seated jet ski.

D: See supra, this is beyond drinkable and, if I didn’t lack the temerity to seek this out, I would do so. Someone give me another bottle and I will write them a short story, just for a chance to indulge on this epic treat again. It is within the ambit of the best 10 sours that I have ever tried. It is like in Cold Mountain where Nicole Kidman falls in love with Jude Law after only giving him lemonade like once, WHAT? I didn’t even see that movie, I MEANT THE BEER WAS PRETTY LEGIT. That’s all.

Great in the morning, great as a nightcap, doesn’t matter, this beer is amazing, when Veritas is on a bagel you can drink V007 any time.

Narrative: The structure of Horatio Alger works and rom-coms had led poor Devin Terpin to believe that it was possible to transcend class structure immediately, if love and a 90 minute resolution was involved. “Repeat again Devin, ’And henceforth, the mandate shall remain tattered dicta’” instructed Ethyl Balmington, his social correctional instructor. “Hens for, this man-date is a tatted dick.” Devin stumbled out warily. Ms. Balmington shook her head reproachfully. “Devin, if you ever hope to attend this Laguna Nigel wedding, you need to work on your diction and content.” Devin sighed and kicked a patch of wild raspberries before him. “Wait, Devin, what is that?” he glanced down and the plant seemed to pulse at his distinctive Riverside dialect. “THIS STRAIN OF FLORA, it is highly combustible with your 909 prototype upbringing!” Ms. Balmington an experienced amateur florist snatched his Metal Mulisha bandana and ground some tart berries into a fine paste. “Now swallow this.” “OBVI!” Devin cried out and made his fraternal sign and downed the berries not unlike the sickest bro. These will take effect in approximately 90 minutes, and all of your romantic problems will be solved. “That sounds like the reprieve of some petulant candor, to say the least!” Devin retorted, astonished. His lifted Silverado changed into a Pumpkin Carriage, then it was on some sick twanky deuces, then it was a bagged pumpkin carriage, which, was pretty cutty irrespective of circumstance. A mere 90 minutes had passed and Devin joked with a pun based upon a portmanteau of Portugese and conversational Greek to one of the guests. “WELL I NEVER!” she cried out while polishing her monocle. “AND I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE!” the reverend shouted and credits began to roll, over the expanse of the life of the sickest bro. The berries were poisonous.

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Founder’s Cerise, Would a Cherry by any other name pop juice like this?

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Ok so let’s get one thing straight, Founders does stouts like no one’s business. Their IPA program is also very good. However, once the rough road of sours and wilds present acidic gravel, my limited slip palate differential just gets rocked so hard. So is this the best cherry beer I have ever tasted? Let me save the suspense, unless this is Cable Car Kriek, then fuck no, but my point is, this might not even come close to the mark…OR DOES IT?

If you walk into this expecting some majestic kriek experience, check your high hopes at the door and go meet the grenadine escort.

Founders, Cerise, Fruit Beer,
Michigan dropping elbows, 6.5% abv

A: This has a hue akin to a ruby red grapefruit juice, it is translucent with light reddish orange luminescence. The carbonation is swift and exits quickly, not unlike the time I went to see Pootie Tang, starring the inimitable Chris Rock.

This is a refreshing blast you might want to avoid.

S: This smells similar to a white zinfandel with cherry notes added to it. There are sweet sticky grenadine notes and a dryness that pangs of oakiness. I have my fingers crossed that this doesn’t go all ape shit and hit that fruit juice and cider tone. Often times, the fruit shoes are illfitting and they readily follow the Toucan Sam maxim of following one’s nose.

T: It begins with a sweet juicy note, cherries of course but with a lingering acidic sweetness similar to a grape juice. It is a bit too sweet for my tastes, not as oppressive as the New Glarus Belgian Red train wreck, but this is a currant fender bender. The dryness and wine notes offer a wine cooler reminiscence that reminds me a bit of red champagne. This is strange, but you enjoy it if only for the innovation, not unlike going to see a Ray Romano stand up comedy show.

The elements are all in place but the execution leaves something to be desired like a stupid fucking 15 year old with a $700 camera who posts shit on instagram.

M: The mouthfeel is dry but the overbearing sweetness just submarines the gains that the innovation and tartness makes. It is difficult to focus on the coating and mouthfeel when there’s this din of sticky madness going on. Sure I can try and write the next great American novel at Boomers! But it just seems wildly inefficient. This shit is just too wacky, cherries all up in my dome piece.

D: This is light and has pleasant carbonation but, the sweetness just pangs the conscience and I feel like I am drinking fruit roll ups and melted starburst. It doesn’t go so far as being as saccharine as the energy drink fold, but it is still cloying. As a result, this remains sticky icky ooh wee, the likes of which I do not wish to put into the air.

The moral that I learned is that you need to prepare for disappointment from your greatest hero.

Narrative: “I just can’t do this anymore, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Ted Langston hung his head in shame. “What do you mean you CAN’T DO IT? It’s the 1990’s, get with it TED! People are on board, SMALL WONDER IS A HUGE SUCCESS!” Ted spun small circles with the toe of his shoe and shook his head in a recalcitrant fashion. “No, V.I.C.I just doesn’t make any damn sense. You’ve taken my science fiction sit com and turned it into a sticky sweet mess. I mean, have you watch the intro? The father is sitting on the grass laughing, that’s not the face of a man who just developed a fully functioning android daughter.” The FOX board official wiped his face with the utmost solemnity. “We have so much riding on this, the love triangle, the adopted asian robot brother that we were going to integrate, you’re…you’re just gonna give up on Small Wonder, just like that?” Ted rubbed his palms together and stared at the plaque on the wall “Young Artist Award.” “I’ve vested too much in this, it began as something amazing, a great institution, but here we are, 4 seasons deep, things are just sticky sweet and messy, there’s a what, what are we doing now a CLONE robot who talks in non-monotone? This doesn’t make any damn sense, there’s too much goddamn nonsense in this show!” He banged his fist on the mahogany table and delivered the absolute shall to the executives. “Alright Ted, but how about in season five we don’t add the alternate dimension, the adopted kid, the prohibition timeline time machine, the love interest for every main character, or the very special episode where V.IC.I. learns about sexually transmitted diseases, will that make you stay?” Ted was not a tart berry to be picked and pressed, besides, he had a new project, Clarissa Explains it All, through which to expound his existential views.

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Lost Abbey Veritas V009, Those Hot Crushes Start Out So Well, Then Turn Into a Sour Mess

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Here’s a great beer, er, a beer that was great when I had it last July, but recently people have been going apeshit about how it has fallen off. Oh boo hoo, that size 0 rare girl you met in a club isn’t working out 10 months later? Well guess what, take your $35 and fuck right off because I am reviewing this old school, yeah, waving the Lost Abbey flag and letting people know that if you want a legit experience, drink it fresh. Lesson learned. Thank you Tomme Arthur. Anyway, let’s review this size zero beauty.

Maybe this was the bottle for v007, who knows, don’t act like you give a shit.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Murky muddy brown ale with a mucky thick edging that I initially misunderstood as malt until I understood that it was deep currant sediment and grape skins and then shut myself right the fuck up.

So everyone was expecting Yellow Bus meets V007, what is this? haters gonna something something.

S: Wow, where to begin, this has a huge bourbon character, then the figs and currant set in, jumping into the game is an apple/citrus apples aspect before the wood notes close it out. Ultimately it feels like a Thomas Pynchon Novel: the most complicated beer ever made that ultimately leaves you confused and wanting more.

T: It seriously is the most complicated beer ever made. Ok so at the outset you taste a deep caramel with some cherry that subsides into a deep heat that lingers into a sour cranberry. I have no idea how that they pulled this off but it is amazing.

This is tough to explain, it is robustly complex but after only 8 ounce of this, the diversity becomes redundant, like a college admissions pamphlet.

M: Here is how your life will proceed, in succession: deep chocolate cherries oh wait, who is that? Vinegar, wait that’s cool come on in, who else? balsamic fine but don’t be a-? Ok cool, she’s cool too, blackberries welcome, welcome uh sure, oh more dark fruits? Fine, I will just set out more placemats.

D: Well, drink ability reduces down to the operator, but I don’t want to call out the old chestnut that can drink a lot, or drink a few. What I am looking for would be the type of person who would literally drink an entire 32 oz serving of POM or grapefruit juice. He would pass my test. Put simply, this beer is so limited and so complex that if you were to take on an entire 24oz to your dome piece, you are an asshole.

Sure, in retrospect, this might not have been the best idea, but it was bad ass at the time.

Narrative: “Oh I am sorry Guillermo? Do you think something is funny about the plastic bag regulation?” He was berated by his superiors but deep down, Guillermo had an innate sense of humor. He grasped desperately at his job at the Marina Del Rey Sheritan but notwithstanding he had a latent skill that his superiors could not stand. “OH IM SORRY GUILLERMO? SOMEHOW THE KOI POND OVER FLOWING IS FUNNY TO YOU?” His face was beet crimson with this prospect. Guillermo took a sly pull of 23 year pappy van winkel and cooled out for a moment. “Wait, maybe you are operating on cultural stereotypes, maybe you are racist?” The group nodded in accordance and each in turn attempted to determine who was in fact racist. Guillermo secretly was a completely literate and inventive individual who simply enjoyed the fulfilling work of maintaining the grounds of a three star resort. “WELL I CAN’T..ehh…no…nooo…” his accent kicked back in and he looked off into the distance longingly. He was perhaps the most complex grounds keeper that the Sheritan had ever encountered.

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Monk’s Cafe Flemish Sour Ale, An Old Review for Old Souls

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Hot damn, I wrote this review so long ago, I think I enjoyed this beer while watching the L.A. Rams crush the Los Angeles Raiders while listening to Spin Doctors on cas- you get the jist. A while ago. How my sour tastes have migrated, but this old gem is still a solid standby that deserves some mild affection, get you some.

Expert beer photos. Hire me for your wedding, bris, whatever.

Brouwerij Van Steenberge N.V.
Belgium
Flanders Oud Bruin | 5.50% ABV

A: Pours from the bottle with a mild head, no lacing, white with fast dissipation, thin and offwhite, eggshell even, the beer itself is a deep ruby brown, I enjoy it in the way that you want an Airhead when you haven’t had one in a while. It’s not like you pick up Airheads at the grocery store on the reg. but you know, a once in a while treat.

Ah a sweet nostalgic treat to remind you of days passed, a dead era of satisfaction with normal, readily accessible sours, back when you were cool but rude.

S: The smell makes you aware that fruit tannins and dark grapes and or currants and awaiting, and they are angry, they storm up your nostril not unlike an Al-Jazeera mob, giving your palate a warning shot for the tartness that they seek to impart

T: The front has a mild candy apple taste, not granny smith, sweet cherry flavor which mellows out to a sweeter candy finish, not tart, a bit like a lukewarm sour patch kid, only not in a disparaging way, like a high class sour patch kid with a monocle and a aplomb for references to Marcel Proust.

I am sure if you had enough of these, you could get into some crazy shit, look at me, i started with these gentle sours, now I huff paint down by the overpass.

M: the carbonation doesnt distract from the sweetness, the sour patch kid lets the bubbles pass like an elevator with unsavory folks exiting, then it is all sweet business. The sour is a secondary effect, the sweet is much more pronounced, it is more “bake sale mom” than “competitive track home housewife.”

D: Well what do you want from your beer? you want to be classy? pull out 11 oz bottles and show people your refined tastes? Ok well, this will do that but I cant seriously see anyone drinking a solid 4 pack of these. It’s kinda like a Lambic’s older brother who got a crew cut and a bomber jacket. You know deep down he’s still sweet, but that Tears for Fears patch just shows you he has more bite than he lets on.

This beer gives me so many feels of old times.

Narrative: These internet dating mixers are so lame, I am above this, but, if they only would give me a chance. I know on the outside I look like a beer, same old amber bottle they are used to, but inside i have so much character and personality, I am downright sweet. Oh great, look, they go for a strong DIRTY martini, I am here for them, my Jdate account get no hits…I TASTE LIKE CHERRY AND GIVE SWEET KISSES. Nice beers finish last, even my outside just says SOUR SOUR SOUR, great, now my belgium mom is gonna be all on my case about this, first my Kriek brother, now I just will sit around reading about all these other lowbrow Belgium strong ales who pull all the chicks. I dont need this, I need a girl who likes ME FOR ME, not because I look like Leona- OH HEY I DO WATCH DEXTER! No, don’t pick up that ZIMA fuuuu-

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Fantome Saison, The Original Belgian Incorporeal Gangster Clapping Funky Stacks Like Rack City

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This was the first Fantome that I ever tried and it changed the game for me and saisons. This beer took artistic license and made it clear that old saisons aint nothin to fuck wit. Anyway, I love this brewery, their saisons open up my ghost trap and get my pK meter blasting off the charts. Just don’t cross my streams.

Glassware fail, as usual. I have been pining for a Fantome glass since back when the Fantome ghost was in a corporeal form.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Huge grapefruit juice hues, great tiny bubbles, and archipelago lacing rounds out this beer. It has a solid pineapple and orange juice hue with murkiness to it that enhances the glow. Some people complain about the inconsistent nature of this beer but every. single. bottle that I have ever had of this beer had rocked a serious ghost erection through and through.

The ghost will wreck you and embrace you like Bruce Willis in the 6th sense AT THE SAME TIME.

S: There’s huge Belgian spice, nutmeg, clove, and almost brettanomyces funkiness to it. It almost has a wet cardboard muskiness to it. A bit of tartness on the finish that makes this both complex and interesting. There’s some nice fruits like granny smith apples, white grape, and tangelo. This ghost gets all up in your faceholes.

T: Wow, this is unlike any of the other musky spicey saisons that I have previously encountered. This almost has a wild ale character to it. The initial taste is a sweet biscuity hefe taste with some honey notes, the spices kick in and give it the taste of a tart apple baked good. I love the incredible funky sour finish. It is really impressive for the style and imparts an incredible citrus note at the end. As it warms you get some white grapes and tropical fruits. I could drink this all day long and the abv is hidden like a funk ninja.

I WANT MOER THES SO BAED!

M: It has a great murkiness that expands with a funky wheat tone. The coating isn’t overly aggressive but its has a great wheat profile that expands into a biscuity chewiness. Just like all the other foamy carbonation superbikes, this Fantome imparts a huge foamy peelout that is satisfying.

D: I initially was not a huge fan of this style but I must tip my hat and admit concessions to this amazing saison. I gave this to my girlfriend and she noted that it was “pretty good” which is the equivalent of a gold star on her scale. I could give this to any, single, person and rest assured that he or she would enjoy it immensely. The universal appeal is off the scale. I am perpetually in search of Fantome gems.

Santa knows how to fucking rage it. If you have Fantomes in your fridge, you can rally so hard.

Narrative: Lakitu loved the cloud life. Day in day out, tossing refreshing spined monsters down upon the earth. “HEY THERE OLD LAKITU! STILL RUINING PEOPLE’S SHIT?” Lakitu gave a knowing nod and proceeded to throw a spiked beast from 300 feet shattering the small dry cleaning business below. Some would say “hey lakitu, why not just be a refreshing cloud, you know, water the crops and all?” Maybe for a standard refreshing cloud, but Lakitu was born with bite. His acidic temperament fueled his anger and made it rain, not unlike Yung Dro in an Atlanta strip club; notwithstanding instead of dollars it was hateful monsters showered upon the masses below. Life could be worse, you could be an asshole like that Bullet Bill.

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Russian River Beatification, Just Settling in for a Nice Beat Sesh.

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I have been seeking this beer for a long, long time. Last December, Russian River released a mere 250 bottles, and I thought all was lost, what with the cellarrape that entailed landing a Batch 3 of this beast. Anyway, here we are 12,000 bottles later and I have to give a major thanks to my buddy Baldo for making the drive and snagging this for me. One more tick off the top 100, boom roasted.

Let the Beat drop.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 5.50% ABV

A: This beer has that amazing radiant glow to it that I haven’t seen since Ithaca Brute was all up in the mix. It reminds me of when Vincent Vega opens up the briefcase. We happy. The lacing is minimal and lets you know of the aching acidity that lurks beneathe. The legs trickle up like those bubble coin games that they used to have at Taco Bell that were impossible to win. I was fat as a kid. now.

After about a year of searching, I finally got my hands on this gem. Happy beatday to me.

S: When it is cold you get a lot of the acidity, the wet hay, and the more musky elements. It reminds me of a halfway house somewhere in between Cantillon Classic and Fou Foune. The fruit is apricot, pineapple, nectarines, and kumquats, but it doesn’t go as far as a fruited lambic, it has its own hybrid style like the Blake Griffin of the wild ale world, slam dunking the fuck out of imitators.

T: This beer has two sides to it, when it is cold, it is just acid and mild funk, none of the awesome fruits or rad complexity. When it warms up, shit starts to get real and you get more of the lemon and grapefruit tartness that starts dry fucking your gumline like the dudes in that Next video “Too Close.” This beer can tell you like it. While this isn’t a “skin” or a tannin, it reminds me of a tart strawberry that you get if you buy them super early from a roadside vendor and its both tart and drying due to the lack of sugars. That’s what it is like ok, just like that.

There are some seriously oblivious people out there who cannot appreciate this gem. Or Spac.

M: This hurts my lips, tum tum, and gumline but I put up with its punishment in the way that a 16 year old guy will put up with a completely apeshit girlfriend: the implicit benefits far outweigh the acrimonious exchange. The crackly acidity is in line with that feeling you get when you try to merk an entire box of Sour Patch Kids to yourself at a movie. You are strangely content but it does a number on your insideface.

D: This is a great wild ale but, admittedly, not my favorite sour of all time. It is unquestionably the best beer that I have had from Russian River but I still prefer Duck Duck Gooze and Veritas 007 to this, which is really picking the fly shit out of the pepper when it comes to that level, but you know what I am saying. This is exceptional, but not the absolute best/pinnacle of the genre. I can only hope that this comes out more often than once every three years because I dont want to have to ration one bottle every 6 months. Life can be challenging, you know?

This isn't the most expensive beer in the world, but you should probably own Marvin Gardens or Pacific Avenue before seeking this shit out.

Narrative: “Alright Devin, please continue, what happened after Mitch deactivated the pressure cylinder on the mixing vat?” Mitch leaned back in his chair and nodded knowingly about the sickest practical joke ever. “Well, I went to clean the vats so that the next batch of Atomic Warheads wouldn’t have an off flavor and, just as I was climbing in the vat Mitch yells-” “APRIL FOOLS MOTHERPUCKER!” “Ok Mitch, let Devin give his statement, this is serious.” Devin was still shivering, hair whitened and his modest clothes eaten through with patchy holes where the acid had eaten through. “It just burned my nose, finger nail beds and I was screaming, God it was so sour but my tear ducts were so dry and I couldn’t cry out.” Mitch nodded with a self-content smile “and then I was like, ‘DONT BE SUCH A SOUR PUSS!’ and he was all like being like ‘ah help mannn’ couldn’t even take the sour.” Devin’s eurethra was badly burned in the practical joke and it pained him badly to urinate. Mitch however, did receive a 3 day suspension and was transferred to the spicy section of the factory, where he assured Corporate that no “hot shit would go down.”

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Cantillon St. Lamvinus, One Hell of a Lambic, God Dambic.

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People go loony for loonz. Cantillon is a hot button for beer nerds and European kids alike. A few of these bottles made it to the U.S. but if this was ever on a shelf in California, that shelf would only be found in the store manager’s house. So yeah, this beer is amazing and a complete pain in the ass to acquire. What else is new.

Dorothy Lamvinus was a saint.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 6.00% ABV

A: Nice ruby huge to a light magenta. It has micro bubbles with wispy lacing. It looks like a majestic wine cooler. If bartels and james won the lottery and went all high brow, this would be the result. Actually, if anyone won the lottery I would expect plenty of this all up in their house. This is about the closest that I get to wine, which is not very.

S: Huge tart notes with great strawberry, cherries, sour currants, and bitter grapes. Granny smith apple skins are there as well. This smells incredible. There’s that classic Cantillon musk, laundry hamper, Audi leather on a rainy day.

I cannot chill when loonz are involved. I need more, perpetually.

T: It has a crisp raspberry tartness that mellows into a smooth sweetness like a melted fruit rollup. It has a sour finish to it that imparts an incredibly refreshing dryness. This is one of the best Cantillon that I have had to date and it is one of the best Lambics that I have ever had. The vintage helped mellow it incredibly, even if it was only 2 years. The fruits interplay with the tart notes perfectly.

A little taste of Belgium, this beer is straight up showing me the world without Vanessa Williams.

M: It is incredibly light and juicy with minimal coating and chardonnay dryness that just stings and crackles in a fantastic way. The carbonation is like an army of diligent effervesence that makes sure the bitter notes are imparted with incredible efficacy. Again, just amazing balance all around. These reviews are hard to write and interject any levity because I am usually all half chub off the grapes and muskiness so I can’t focus on ways to talk shit on it. Serious problems.

D: This makes Consecration look like an imperial stout and Lindeman’s look like candy syrup. It is leagues above all other sours and lambics that I am familiar with. I could drink this in a boat, with a goat, green eggs and ham; etc. You could drink this with any food, at any location and it would be well suited. I feel that this could give white and red wine equal competition with pairings because it is so original and dynamic. I can’t imagine how blaeber could improve on this model but I am anxious to try [editors note, I tried Blabaer since I tried this and, it does improve on that model, not by a landslide but, blabbies gonna blab.]

Damn, grapes and musk, this loon can have all my digletts.

Narrative: Vitus Tanneen had been in some sticky jams before but this time, this time certainly was noteworthy. The walls of the trash compactor closed slowly, pressing the wine refuse closer into the chamber. The aluminum walls reeked of sweet grape skins and sticky notes. If not for the impending death, this would be an almost pleasant situation. “Well Sir Knuckles, looks like we are in a PRESSING SITUATION!” His friendly companion, Sir Knuckles, was an astute howler monkey with no penchant for puns. “WREE EE EE EEEK!” Sir Knuckles gestured imposingly to a hatch covered in sticky grape residue. “Well Sir Knuckles, this is one top that I have no hesitation to pop.” Using a wine opener, Vitus deftly unsealed the hatch and emerged into the bay area sunshine. “NOT TODAY KENDAL JACKSON! NOT TODAY!” He spun and his velvet tails swung after this athletic frame with the poise of a man, a man almost killed by grapes.

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

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

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

Lost Abbey Framboise de Amarosa
American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

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

Old craft beer enthusiasts are tough to impress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raspberry deliciousness. TARGETS ACQUIRED.

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

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

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