This is his rye whiskey barrel Huna clone made with ancho/habanero from his garden. I don’t even want to bring this up bc the last thing I need is an endless train of home brew donations, but god damn it, this is on par with the greats in that segment, couldn’t not tell an adult when something touches me like this.

  
Ok so admittedly this looks like straight bottling bucket yeast cake, but God damn this hits harder than an Alpine deck with a detachable face.

Brewers get all salty when you call out their slurry as “yeasty” and instead prefer the innocuous “matter in suspension” cognomen. It has a creamy mouthfeel to the point that you wonder if this ipa has spelt or flaked oats in it. The taste is a splash of tangerine and arugula, shallot and chard. That milky coating washes clean and you can drill these with careless abandon, and they sure as fuck better be good if Brooklyn hipsters tossed on their rag and bone shirts, waxed their post-ironic moustachioes and stood in line for hours for a canned ipa.

Nyc has all the makings of a beer shitstorm locus if this persists: huge population density, trust funders; gourmands, expendable income, functionally unemployed “artists” and a lack of any noteworthy Manhattan whale factories.

Godspeed 10101

Associated fermentation news

  
With the recent announcement that Ballast Point Brewing would be acquired for one billion dollars, several craft beer enthusiasts have concurrently awarded themselves both MBA and PhD degrees in response. “Well, the whole thing reduces down to capitalistic ‘intentionality’, as it were,” noted local air conditioning repairman, Thomas Watkins. “As someone who purchases IPAs at the local Walgreens, I am qualified to not only comment on the business acumen of a multi-million dollar company, but also the moral underpinnings of these decisions,” Watkins quipped while taking apart a freon compressor.

Watkins is not alone, as a bevy of craft beer enthusiasts have recently launched into unsolicited Fireside Chats concerning the recent sale of Ballast Point. “In my GED program they covered ‘market saturation’,” stated local Quizno’s sandwich artisan, Molly Jaspers, “with the sale of Ballast Point I am confident that somehow applies, so I will be using that term a lot. Also ‘Marxist laborer disassociation from production.’ All those things. I am gonna be saying a lot of things in the near future.”

Don’t even get him started on that Keynesian shit in relation to imperial porters.

It has been suggested that consumers would now simply be able to enjoy a Sculpin at locations which previously would have been vending Stella or other steel rain barrel libations. “It is not about the sale itself, it is the oeuvre of the craft beer zeitgeist, a v2 rocket of will now mirrors representation,” Jaspers concluded, “but they better not try to soak me for $16.99 for a god-damn sixer of Fathom, that’s just ethically reprehensible.”

At press time local Chicago beer traders were busily awarding themselves Master’s Degrees in sentential logic in preparation of the forthcoming Bourbon County release.

  
All day.

  
NO SPIN ZONE. No flex zone.

  
It is sweet justice for the Bruery to start dropping the most apeshit Hoarders-only bottles almost immediately after the enrollment period for 2016 closed. The pangs of FOMO resonate anechoic in the chambers of unfaithful traders’ hearts. So what kind of BT riff do we have today? Did they add [insert hot additive of the week]? No sadly there is no peanut butter or anguiliiuili chilis, not even any pecans. Those snake oil salesmen at the Bruery are oddly relying solely upon their brewing and blending techniques, WHAT IS THIS 2010 AMIRITE???

Let’s let some communications major who wrote this copy get you tumescent: “For years, Black Tuesday has needed little, if any, introduction. But Black Tuesday® Reserve is a different matter entirely. Brewed in early 2014, Black Tuesday Reserve was aged in bourbon barrels for 10 months and then racked into a second collection of bourbon barrels, where it rested until bottled in autumn 2015. The double barrel-aging process of the 20.5% ABV beer has made it even more decadent while intensifying its characteristics, with flavors of dark chocolate fudge, sweet vanilla beans, bourbon-laced macaroons, sticky caramel, brown sugar, and German chocolate cake frosting.”

Dat registered trademark flexing hard. But in all seriousness, this is a legit double BAL that has served a hard 18 month bid in the Bourbon shu. We aren’t talking about some bullshit mislabeled “component blend” that drives entry level tickers nuts, a legit barrel transfer like DBD and DBH. They were gonna call this DBT but that sounds too much like EBT and Hoarders like to pretend that they have their finances out of the welfare realm.

  
First and foremost: this beer has excellent carbonation. Anyone who has hazarded a true double barrel endeavor knows that they are often flat in execution. The heft of this beer is evident as it cascades out with a self adhering viscosity like Mercury at room temperature. The mocha foam subsides into deep blackness like when you slay heartless with the key blade. Sora about to be fully blunted.

The nose is oddly less lively than regular BT and instead lends long lacquer, oak, cut lumber, vanilla bean, chocolate cream pie, some pralines and a toasty hot solvent closer. The slight ethanol waft is a warning sign in the wild, like the marking on a monarch butterfly, this is not to be fucked with.

The taste is not nearly as hot as the degree to which my rectum was puckered in preparation. What a clunky horrible sentence, business as usual over at ddb.  The cocoa and coconut lead with a slickness that imparts a touch of heat along the bicuspids, sheeting releases a dry macaroon dipped in espresso, the oak resonating long like the bell of drunk detention. 

This is a long and slow enjoyment curve with the depth and hazards attendant to struise Double Black. It never becomes unmanageable or overstays its welcome, slow and steady sips allow this beer to open like a time lapse flower, turgor pressure at different temps parting the wet folds.

Let’s call it “eh 25%?” Better than the already awesome 2015 BT. Which is to say, you would be remiss to skip this or write it off as a “abv for abv sake” hat trick. This is that 2016 Lean and your double cup awaits.

When you get hit in the testicles really hard you feel it in your stomach. The inguinal system linked with the lower intestine alerts your body something noteworthy has occurred. Failing to renew my Hoarder’s membership is that Tory Birch flat deposited squarely in my nutsack. This is likely the best beer that Bruery will roll out this year and I am standing on the dock watching that $700 exclusive ocean liner pull away with all manner of decadence afloat. This is an absolutely necessary beer to try for palate calibration and if only because nothing else really exists like this. 

Dip your tiny pen in this black inkwell, just the tip.

  
I thought b1 was one of the most mediocre beers in the stellar HF lineup, b2 came hard as Rick Ross with a fantastic Fuji and jazz apple with honeydew and cantaloupe.

Batch 3 is back to those lackluster tricks with a caramel, disappointing cling and watery body. Perhaps the fun tartness that offsets the amber aspects will develop over time but this is amongst one of the only Hf offerings to which I wouldn’t be excited to return. Let’s hope b4 is an odd/even batch annularity and it returns to those awesome lightly tart levels of refined funk.

  
The New Glarus R and D program has existed in this unfair shadow cast against the game-changing VSB and as a result they usually are overly panned for not conforming with those once in a ticker lifetime brews. Wild peach was pretty tasty and the goozie was an awesome overlooked beer. So here we have another banger with berry right in the name, so those prurient interests were piqued once again.

The operative term in the title is “bourbon” and every dumbfuck who couldn’t comprehend a sour brown was stumbling to Untappd to complain about the lack of sour golden tones. Sour goldens are the only wild ales worth making, according to the top tier cicerones in the game since 2014.

This is actually akin to a flawlessly balanced Flanders red with awesome malty underpinnings, depth in the oak a caramel ribbon through the berries like god tier Ben N Jerry’s blends. There is absolutely zero acetic aspects and the mouthfeel is down pillow soft, berry tannins juicy like a medium fill duvet. Imagine a more refined, Alexander meets Oude Tart sour cherry. The light vanilla reminds me of a cherry coke but with a massive jammy presence on the swallow. It is exceedingly drinkable and the worst aspect is this kind of Aquanet meets fruit roll up kinda thing which is forgivable, for the hairspray enthusiast.

Shit is dank and comparatively easy to land, what more do you want from me? 

  
I Couldn’t have picked a better hiking beer, were such a thing to exist outside of say, Colorado. Even at a suboptimal temp, that slightly brackish Powerade lemon note was drillable on a BP level. Tempered acidity and the mild grist make carbonation the only tether limiting full on croosh, but that is probably for the best. There was an undeniable degree of “venue bias” attendant to the experience, like when you have to suffer through dipshits who studied abroad in Praug rattle on and on about unpasteurized Pilsners. We get it. Even still, very tasty.

Notwithstanding this beer shines greatest in warmer conditions, the “out of doors” that is universally shunned by the alabaster skinned beck beards who form obedient ranks in the sleet for syrupy vials of saccharine succor. Those kinda guys. At any rate, Athena is god damn refreshing and seems to lovingly crowd the space that Westbrook gose all but eked out in the hillside, the grapple points for low abv lacto now well-tread. Winter is never coming, so might as well stock up.