Category Archives: sour

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Pechish Woods, Cisco Brewing, This brewery wants to see that thong da sour dong ta thong thong. Sours like a truck. truck truck.

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This beer is amazing and strange at the same time, like those kids with autism that hit up college all early and you’re pretty sure they are getting dome but then you are not sure that- it’s a pretty solid sour. It has nothing to do with geniuses or oral sex.

Cisco wore a glittery belt buckle, another Cisco got all my dotcom friends so many awkward hj's in rental cars, this Cisco melts your face off with scorching sours.

Pechish woods, Cisco Brewers, American Wild Ale 4.9% abv

A: This is incredibly thin and watery in character. If not for the haze it would give off a mild orange translucence to it, like watered down faderaid on a struggling Sunday morning. There is no lacing, nor much carbonation to write home to mom and dad about. Summer camp at Pechish Woods is tranquil and inviting.

Smart people enjoy sours, stupid ass people enjoy cats. This has been proven time and time again. Next time you meet someone who doesn't like sours, ask what he/she majored in, you know which one I am talking about..

S: This has an unmistakable pie crust and peach smell to it. There is also a faint note of wet hay and autumn in general exuded from this beer. Chicks are not into this. Don’t open this at a club. You can’t leave with less than zero bitches but, you cant owe people girls is what I am trying to say. Leave this wild ale at home.

T: The nose is very similar to the taste and it has sharp notes of peaches and a nice cracker crust finish to it that doesn’t really expand or linger for very long. There aren’t many sours/wilds that go full on unshaven peach like this one and, the candor is welcome. It is a bit one note but you don’t get sick of it.

You are expecting something all hard and bad ass but then it doesn't get you wasted at all. But it's still pretty chill so you just hang out and swap Catholic Camp stories and shit gets autobiographical real quick.

M: This is super crisp and light. The tartness only underscores how fast this imparts the flavor and disappears quickly. This is actually a bit of an impressive hat trick with the peaches, cinnamon, crust, and excessive drink ability. I would highly recommend this beer to anyone who wants to wow someone with the limits of what beer can attain. This is limited in scope but incredible in depth, it just nails peach cobbler is its cobbler ass. The result is not COBBLED TOGETHER.

Chicks wont like this beer, but then again, maybe she will. If the rap community can convince girls to sip Moscato then anything is possible.

D: This is all redundant, but this is a very drinkable beer and a very pleasant beer to drink at that. It would be a perfect dessert beer to serve to guests and the pairing choices are SUPER OBVI. If this wasn’t so annoying to obtain, I would have this on full rotation. Peaches by the pound. dumps like a truck.

This is the type of person who enjoys a beer like this, despite what I like to think about it. And myself.

Narrative: The orchard hummed with a dynamic life to it in the summertime. Something about the sun’s rays cascading through the branches and the wind picking up the sweet blossom of the peach trees made it seem like one didn’t have a care in the world. “OH I AM SORRY, everyone, Pierre thinks these PEACHES ARE GOING TO HARVEST THEMSELVES, let’s all take a break and wait for him, because NOW YOUR SHIFT IS GOING TO BE 20 MINUTES LONGER BEFORE ARTS AND CRAFTS” the loudspeaker boomed as the camp counselor gestured furiously towards Pierre. His hands were cut from the constant harvesting and the acerbic juices from delicious peaches filling the sack around his neck. “Please, my…mom didn’t sign me up for this…this is supposed to be summer camp…” Pierre pleaded and wiped some peach pulp from his youth designer jeans. “LET ME, tell you something Pierre Pierre the Peachcrastinator, you need to stop jabbering on about how life at Pechish Woods is the PITS and start thinking about how SWEET arts and crafts will be!” If the camp counselor’s tone didn’t cut to the bone, the caustic puns would scour his skin first. Arts and Crafts at Pechish Woods consisted mostly of preserves preparation, jams, pie construction, and tart manufacturing. “Fineeeeee….” Pierre was indeed being a peachcrastinator but, you couldn’t argue with the perks. He took a bite of a fresh peach and continued “Free Time” at the sticky sweet Pechish Woods Summer Camp.

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Cigar City Guava Grove, Honduran Kisses for All the Children

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It's like that time you stole guavas from that Bolivian guy and he cried a single hateful tear.

Cigar City Brewing, Guava Grove Saison, 8% abv

Ok Cigar City has a serious naming problem, you open this up and it is way closer to an American Wild Ale than a saison. Identity crisis. You get a huge waft of pineapple, guava, melon, and great musky yard clippings. The taste has an amazing acidity and I could drink this all day. This is a great beer to mix up with your creatine, n0x and glutamine to get a sick juiced pump before a workout. But in all seriousness, the tartness and drying finish makes this almost akin to a white wine but with a dope ass malty complexity.

Tank a whole bottle of this to your domepiece and you'll be posted like a wet hedgehog. Super chill.

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Armand’4 Zomer, Such a Huge Zomer for this, Geuze, srsly.

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OH SHIT ANOTHER TOP 100 BEER? You have got to be kidding me. Tis the season indeed, hot in the streets, killing the mixtape scene right now.

Anyway, here’s an expensive ass rare beer from Belgium. For a change.

I think I am getting a Zomer just looking at this.

Ok so this is another one of those 40 euro bottles that cost another $25 to ship to the U.S. that everyone is so jazzed about, and well, it’s basically a perfect geuze. That is all there is to it. Werf it.

Armand’4 Oude Geuze Zomer (Summer) 6% abv

A: This beer is radiant and downright beautiful. The carbonation is a bit obnoxious, but I guess being put in a box and being shipped from Belgium to Colorado to California and then greeting my ugly face leaves something to be desired and the reaction was substantial. Accidentally all the carbonation. But the beer itself has a brilliant yellow gold sort of hue and a deep cloudiness that just cascades sheets of bubbles like a malfunctioning dishwasher, you aint even mad tho.

A beer to share with your son. Not even mad tho. Amazing.

S: I got a huge floral aspect to beer that feels like laying on a cotton blanket in a poppyfield or some other shit that dryer sheet commercials depict my life to be. There’s a nice apricot and tart lemon and its like rays of ethereal light up into my nose holes. It’s like opening the Ark of the Covenant and discovering delicious fruit instead of hateful hessidic rage.

T: The taste is incredibly layered and complex, let me eat the oat pieces and try to get the marshmellow ratio up to explain this. Ok so you get this funky like hot basement musk that turns into sweettarts immediately then washes into an acidic note like a harsh white wine but in a delicious citrus way. It just really shines in this department and leaves very little to be desired except a bit more fruits, but hey, go get on Toucan Sam’s shit for that, it’s perfect in nearly every other way. What do you want from this beer you ingrate?

Alright so pricey perfectly executed geuze isn't your thing? How about a mouse? There you go, ingrate.

M: The mouthfeel is interesting in that it, literally, burns my lips with acidity. The tingle is similar to when I drank Goose Island Rare and there was that hot flash of tingling on my lips, except this time it was the liquid sun spraying summer all over the place. It expands with a Faulkner depth and clarity that subsides into a dry sourness, also like Faulkner, ba dum tish.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I kinda regret taking this whole 750ml to my domepiece. These bottles usually go for like $90 so I guess I don’t win the sharing badge, but, it’s still exceptional in every way. I played Battlefield 3 feeling all like it was summer and my lean frame was embracing the verdant hillside, skipping and tossing marigolds aloft. Shit was so cash.

This absolutely gets the Seal. Top 5 geuze. Go get you one.

Narrative: Summer in Morris, Illinois had a special radiance to it. The rays felt like they were delivered especially for each resident as a golden shaft from Helios himself. The residents went about their business, yet each and every one of the 13,636 residents knew that a special radiant love waited to embrace them right when they stepped out the door to embrace that Illinois soil. Skip Masterson looked up to the sun and smiled nodding knowingly as he headed to his job at the Dresden Power Plant. The residents looked not unlike the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast, a man doffed his cap to Skip while carrying a wicker basket of baguettes and a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Just another picturesque morning in sweet Morris. The summer sun welcomed the Lyondell Chemical Company trucks into town and the children skipped and frolicked in the glow of the summer sun, running after the ammonia sulfide inside the trucks, playing with toy guns and playing pitchpennies into a tin can enjoying the sweet glow of a perfect metropolitan suburban life. Summer was a gift from god and embraced each resident with a sweet fulfilling handshake that pulls in for a comforting hug.

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Upland Kiwi Lambic, Face Melting 24th Fret Hammer On Solos

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The perfect beer for people who want to make their dentists rich as hell.

A: This beer has a straight up yellow, Squirt/Lemonhead look to it. It has some nice carbonation that peaces out almost immediately. It has other things to do apparently. I am ok with that, the bubbles seemed like sick bros. Super beast.

S: There’s a cheddar cheese funkiness to it, or like the a carpet sample book at Home Depot in a strangely good way because the harsh lemon zest makes it seem like its a weird baked good. Cheese Merengue Pie. This just comes off as super acidic from the get go.

T: Holy acidic hell. This is more sour than most geuzes that I have had and it dethrones 3F Sch. Kriek as the most face melting sour I have ever had. Seriously wow, it makes your face cringe in happiness at the full court acidic press that it wages on your tastebuds. Even before you swallow, it comes in and starts tearing down the drywall and just wrecking shit like an old school punk show. The taste is bitter hot tart lemonheads with acid that melts like that stuff on Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I get no kiwi, largely because kiwis usually dont burn the enamel off of my bicuspids. This is the type of beer that people try around me and look at me like I am a fucking maniac for drinking this recreationally.

M: The mouthfeel is fire and acid that burns with the fury of a thousand ex-wives. It creates a chemical methlab and just scorches the surface with DDT and lemon acid. The fields are fallow and salted, none are saved from the tart wrath of this scornful master.

D: Did you even read the foregoing? I am working my way steadily through this 750ml but this is clearly meant to be shared. This is on the absolute extreme end of flavor profiles. I dont see how Weyerbach or other Cantillon offerings can get much more ridiculous than this. This is just a straight up acid rampage that takes no prisoners. All tastebuds are executed upon sight without recompense or remorse. Somehow, the sheer malevolence is almost a loving quality and I feel wiser and stronger for having been subject to this acrimonious treatment. Yes sir, can I have another.

Narrative: Face too sore to write narrative, must…use… flouride….

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Goose Island Lolita, Getting Nabokov All Twisted.

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Finally a wild ale even non-pedophiles can enjoy.

Lolita, American Wild Ale, 7.0% abv

A: light cherry red hues with minimal lacing and carbonation that dissipates quickly. Capri Sun nailed it on this one and Hi-C is jocking so hard.

S: the Brett funk is present with wafts of wet hay and blankets. It is expansive and in the words of one observer, “something is rotten.” In my opinion, all is well and delicious with the aroma, considering the style. It finishes with cherry and tart fruit roll up smells. It’s like a ridiculously alcoholic recess sesh.

This beer is tempting, but dangerous.

t: Raspberries are present with a very sour mild drying effect that is not overwhelming on the sour. Overall is has very good balance and is incredibly refreshing. The juiciness has a strange tart nature with a crisp nice bite to the finish. The hops are completely absent, but they are not wantonly missed. Gushers for grown ups all up in my grill.

M: Put simply, there is no coating and the maltiness is similar to a lambic or a thin profile gueuze. You swallow and bam it’s over, all that anticipation and just a fleeting sour note, like most Brendan Fraser movies.

I want to sit around and be patient for more, but, I know it will never come.

D: This is a tough call because it is very drinkable but slightly drying after 22 oz. It reminds me of listening to a Dragonforce album, where at first blush you love every note and run, you praise the complexity but after a solid hour of it the wear and tear of the items all taking place at once begin to grate on you. It is hard to fault and, just short of Russian River and Lost Abbey offerings, this is incredible.

Narrative: Lola had this anxiety in her chest. A strange aching pain that began just after 6th grade that she couldn’t explain. At first blush it seemed like a mere tightness, or maybe just a hormonal inbalance, however, she began to realize some powerful changes in the following year. Now I present this not in a biological or coming of age way, to be quite blunt, Lola could reduce her size at will. It began simply enough she would exhale to relieve herself of the constant worry and tension and note her sprite figure diminish from her regular 5’1” stature to a 4’6” height. With practice in her room, she even could push these numbers lower and lower until at the crest of her 14th birthday she could rest comfortably sweet and refined amongst her massive pillows with her things. Her iPod screen showed full screen matinees and all over her childhood possessions took huge new forms. She was indeed as Lolita as one could be, ensconced in between the comforter. She giggled to herself when her mother came in and couldn’t find her amongst the folds. She was as sweet as the day was long but she held that tart little character, and an everlasting little secret.

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The Bruery Tart of Darkness, Uh oh, more puns from the Bruery.

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Joseph Conrad said there'd be puns like this.

Bruery Tart of Darkness Sour Stout, 5.5% abv

A: It has a deep black hue with cola colors at the edges. Mild carbonation with tiny bubbles and no lacing. Put that Marciano dress away, nothing to get all Anne Klein over, just an average outing.

S: Some malt but mostly sweet dark grapes with souring and vinegar notes. The last finish has a tiny bit of cocoa but the vinous notes override. It’s like a blacksploitation film set in a vineyard, strange but you enjoy it.

It is lighthearted but still menacing, like this stupid asshole.

T: What a crazy merging venn diagram. It initially starts out with a huge tart almost gueze sourness to it. There are notes of tannins, grape skins, and sour black cherries. The final taste has this transition chocolate maltiness to it. It feels like when a Transformer goes from something bizarre like a bidet into a crazy cyborg.

M: The mouthfeel is nothing like the traditional stout in that it imparts a huge dryness and has none of the coating that you traditionally associate with a non-imperial stout. It performs so strong in the tart category the stout shows up brazenly at the end of each sip. Again, just a really strange finish overall.

It feels high class, but strangely approachable.

D: This feels like eating ahi tuna and ice cream concurrently. There is a huge enjoyability to it, however, the fact that it straddles two divergent styles makes it sacrifice a purely drinkable experience. However, this might just be me being curmudgeonous and oppositional to change.

Narrative: Walter Chambers wasn’t the best pharmacy technician. He wasn’t the best mortician either. Somehow it was his relentless work ethic that kept him powering through both occupations day in and day out. After a solid 3 hours of sleep, he would saunter in, smelling of formaldehyde, dark circles under his eyes. “Yeah, car…car problems and…so did we get that Abilify shipment come in?” His dark wrinkled suit had strange stringent notes that wafted through the CVS pharmacy. “WALTER!” He snapped out of a brief nap and realized that he could see his breath in the ice cold body preparation room. “Walter, I told you to prep the gauze wrap and you go off for a sno-” Walter slipped back into blackness.

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Surly Five, Wild Ale, 8.2% Abv, Baby When The Lights Go Out…It is Dark

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This beer delivers more than the average forgotten boy band, only more sour.

Well with all the holiday bitterness coming, I figured I would give you some sour delights to placate your cravings for old boy bands.

Surly Five, Anniversary Wild Ale, 8.2%

A: This is a deep dark ruby red with some mild browns at the center, the lacing leaves something to be desired NAMELY MORE LACING. This isn’t granma’s foyer up in this bitch, no cosies, doilies, lacing, or webbing. The lack of carbonation is saddening.

The lack of lacing is more depressing than Sarah McLaughlin commercials

EDIT: The second pour had more foamy goodness, quite unlike those depressing commercials.

S: There is a distinct waft of cherry, tart currants, nail polish remover, and deep merlot. There’s a backend of wet hay and 3rd grade classroom on a rainy day. You know the drill, soaked dirty children.

T: The taste is distinctly tart, with a sour cherry flavor that fades into a red wine tannic finish. The dryness is compensated by a nice clean finish. It feels like a baby Consecration, but a solid Nissan Altima of the sour world. Although I have to say, I am a bit skeptical due to how readily the gentleman who provided me with this amazing beer was ready to part with it. A scholar and a gentleman indeed.

The tartness and limited availability make me suspicious. Just a little too...delicious...

M: The motuhfeel is crisp and swift and leaves a tart jelly jam sourness upon exit. It drinks very well and hides the alcohol like a miserly eastern European. Sometimes the tartness becomes annoying like basically anything with Taylor Lautner in it, but this is pretty tolerable.

D: For the tartness, alcohol, and deep complexity, it is surprisingly gentle. Big old acidic Lenny holds my hand gently while I tell him about the sour cherry rabbits and demonstrate my knowledge of 9th grade English curriculum. Overall, I would buy it again, but I cant, so I dont think I would trade for it again. Not cheap but, there’s just too much beer out there. White people problems.

Gave Surly Five to my cat, it imploded like a Gushers commercial with PURE SOUR RAGE.

Narrative: The POV camera premise just seemed wildly degrading to Tony Wachowski, TRU TV or not. “Alright Wachowski, you’re a loose cannon, and we all know about your rage,” Tony’s captain boomed from his podium during what was probably a morning briefing, I dont know. “So we are putting you on traffic duty, the commissioner is BREATHING DOWN MY ASS ABOUT LAST WEEK!” Tony shifted in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t have rage, and the incident was a series of missteps and unfortunate coincidences. “Hey uh sir, like I told yas, that fruit truck-” “FUCKING FRUIT TRUCK NOTHING WACHOWSKI, you are on meter duty.” I mean really, it would make even the finest officer bitter. Tony could still see that group of five year olds, covered in sticky, smashed cherries. “Sir, can I at least have my firearm back?” “GOD DAMNIT TONY, you are lucky I let you have your REGULAR ARMS.” Ultimately, no one would have predicted that merely tossing a Burt’s Bees chapstick container out the window would have blown out the tread of the fruit cargo freighter, overturn and kill several children, drowning them in sour fruit on the way to the preserves factory. “OH I AM SORRY TONY, the rest of us will wait while you SNACK ON SOME CHERRIES! NOW GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.” Tony would never use chapstick again.