Parabola 2013 is still killing it. Waves of brownie batter with that integrated butter chocolate and muddled Rolos au natural achieved through highly competent blending, without the aid of some grocery store candy aisle crutch.
Do yourself a favor, take down that ISO for the peanut butter marzipan addition stout extravaganza of the week and open the undisputed silent master of the barrel aged stout realm.
Your life doesn’t need to be as hard as you are making it.
Cradle the BALs.
SMH what else arnt these breweries telling us??? 1 share = 1 support
WOW. Follow the money and think about it, #eyesopen #foodbabe
This is so quintessentially European in execution you almost don’t even need to taste it. That typical agile watery splash like Dr. Pepper, the zero calorie cling, the caramel co2 and Ho hum presentation: all accounted for.
That’s not to say this isn’t tasty, it certainly is and it enjoys that sessionability of continental ratiinalism, and the enduring simple sweetness of British empiricism. It is tootsie rolls and sticky rolos, Natalie Portman thin, almost like a robust Porter with waves of vanilla extract and cake mix.
This is a pretty fine stout and probably among the best De Molen beers and amongst the worst from Narke; (dis)respectively.
Dudes tryna get it inside them
The beer world is a bizarre place, but you can’t deny certain incredible pockets of generosity.
If you have been in the beer game for any modicum of time, surely you have heard breathy whispers about the legendary irreproachable 50n on Cantillon lore. That beer was a one off in 2007 and then once rebrewed, people started offloading the b2 bottles like they were on fire.
Jump cut to Wisconsin, a nondescript building of hard angles sits inauspiciously in the Midwest horizon, a harbinger of American longing for Belgian succor: the Funk Factory. While the wort is brewed at O’So, some would argue that the real magic occurs offsite in the unremarkable fortitude of Wisconsin solitude.
When 50n shifts to 43n, a paradigm shift also occurs. The cognac becomes Brandy, the lambic becomes wild ale, and the consequences will never be the same
So aside from the clear homage/wildly insensitive label, depending on perspective, what’s the deal with this silent upstart?
Our homage to Cantillon 50 Degrees North 4 Degrees East. 2 year old unblended lambic aged in a Brandy barrel. This unique lambic is the fruit of a collaboration between Funk Factory Guezeria, O’so Brewing and Old Sugar Distillery.
Never backing down from controversy, FF has boldly gripped the spiritual hand of Allagash and tossed it’s trilby into the American Lambic ring. Even conceptualizing “American lambic” causes BJcp obsessed Charlie Papazian fanatics to hyperventilate, but does it measure up?
At the outset this appears distinctively Belgian in execution with a gentle sheath of wheaty haze, lasting subtle carb cracking like pop rocks atop pineapple juice. There’s no bullshit isinglass or attempts to make this that which it is not.
The nose has this caramel tiramisu booziness to it that transitions into a yuzu, lemon, Japanese plum complexity and at first it feels like casting Brian Cranston in a Happy Madison film. One aspect is wasted due to the incongruous clash resultant from the conception. I love the Brandy profile in more substantial malty venues, I love the nimble citrus and funk in svelte farmhouse offerings. The two stapled together feel like an arranged Pakistani wedding, inorganic and clunky, but decadent and sumptuous.
Thankfully the Brandy profile allows the taste to perform in more traditional “Lou Pepe gueuze with brown sugar” sort of ways. Lemony cream of wheat is met with caramel and Fuji apple. At cold temps the odd combination might make you dust of that tired diacetyl alert whistle but allowing it to open up shows that it is certainly a nuanced product that strives to exist in the sweet and tart, without the cloying oiliness panting of unintentional infection.
I think there were something like 300 bottles of this made and it shows an ambitious piece from a brewery experiencing a meteoric rise if the ISOs for FUnk Factory proxies are to be heeded.
This may not be your typical jaunt in the wild ale woods, but they consistently align the American execution with Belgian profiles in ways that are as alarming and refreshing in a world crowded with lacto bombs.
If you feel like getting up in the fray, tread lightly and try not to ruin things for people who aren’t complete dipshits yet. Thankfully the Funk Factory and Rare Day fanboy penumbra does not intersect as of late.
Here you go:
Everyone can blame Ddb for ruining yet another brewery.
The Sarah bottles are worth moar
I don’t think I have ever been funk’d this hard by the FedEx man
My ovulate cones are already wet
Grimm Artisanal Ales, not to be confused with GRIMM BROTHERS out in Colorado, have been silently lurking and sniping new tickers in the New York area left and right. Not unlike what Other Half has been up to with their hoppy offerings, Grimm has been turning out impressive stouts and wild ales to satiate the thirstiest of Penny-farthing riders out in the BK.
But wait, the cans say Virginia, who is running this bad ratchet? OH CHRIST DON’T TELL ME IT’S ANOTHER JEPPE, WE ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH OVERPRICED CONTRACT BREWING DETRITUS FROM THOSE TWO TWINS. Well, not exactly. This summer they’ve been working out of two different spots — Flagship Brewing Co on Staten Island and Beltway Brewing Co in Northern VA. All the Flagship stuff has been draft only so I have no fucking clue what that tastes like, all these bottles offerings are technically VA beer by way of BK “FLAVOR TECHNICIANS.”
Gypsies are all the rage now, with their gawdy gowns, lurid caravans, and co-opted mash tuns. Let’s see if these guys should pack up their bindles and continue to ride the rails or if fortune telling is here to stay.
JUST USED ALL MY GYPSY REFERENCES FOR THE YEAR.
HOLY SHIT GOLD MEDAL WINNER MICHAEL PHELPS OF THE STOUT WORLD
Take it easy, it’s just a Gold Medal Winner at GABF, which is to say “People from 2008 would have loved this” based on the “modern” judging criteria. To be fair, this is a fantastic non-BA stout, a segment that is all but disappearing like stainless Chards because ratchets be thirsty for that basic butter. The nose on this is ridiculous and complex and serves as a great touchstone for what Grimm is capable of from malt massaging: anise, bakers chocolate, black licorice, and blackstrap molsasses. This is a nice hybrid of the Abyss realm with the awesome bitter roast of the late 2000’s Darkness.
The guys at Bottle Logic loved this THOT
The mouthfeel is dialed in, slick, and almost drinks like a massive porter cum de BBXXIV, etc. This is a callback to when beer was fun and reductionist, before name branded barrel aging was a greater concern than actual ability. This is one of the top giants of the non barrel aged realm and a hallmark of a slowly dying style.
SPEAKING OF WHICH:
BALS ARE THROBBING
When he saw that I landed the regular version, Shtit sent me this for no reason, so here’s a head to head. The BA version, to be clear is a VERY GOOD beer. It has even better carb and a drier mouthfeel, the same nestle chocolate kisses, but adds a requisite Tollhouse Cookie blast of Vanilla, coconut, mallowfoam, and Skor Bar.
SO WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?
Dont lurk
If there is a distinct “problem” if we can call it that, it’s that this becomes “just” a very good barrel aged stout, but at the expense of all of the character of the nuanced non-BA version. This is unquestionably delicious, but it ends up feeling like something akin to Central Waters 15, 16, or one of the innumerable barrel aged stouts you have had before. It’s weird grip that in improving the beer, it loses a component of distinct character. If you don’t drink a ton of beers, you will prefer this version, and sure, it’s a slightly less impressive Parabola at its core, but to savor a time machine of a naturally aspirated RIS is something undeniably special.
I realize it’s weird to knock this beer for being both good and different from its base beer. I GET IT
ALRIGHT WHAT ELSE CAN I BITCH ABOUT?
I open a refreshing fruity joint and it starts pouring rain outside, typical.
This was like a crisp refreshing shower after a tryst with an inexpensive escort: the salinity washes clean for max enjoyment. This is Drillable with a capital “D” and seems like something straight out of the Westbrook playbook, Gose Gone Wild notwithstanding. I can see Brian Strumke stroking his hairless scalp in fruity contemplation of the brackish mandarin orange slices dancing with that creamy frothy swallow. It is not too acidic, not too complex, not too salty and Goldilockses the execution: everything feels jussst right, if not predictable.
A NEW CHALLENGER APPEARS
So if Super Going is a refreshing saltines and marmalade adventure, this is like some proto-Pizza Boy shit.
“American wild/sour ale brewed with apricots, dry hopped with El Dorado, Columbus, and Cascade, and conditioned on oak.
My boner was still pounding from that Barrel 7 opulence from Holy Mountain so I came into this expecting something similar, sadly a top 10 beer for 2015, this is not. I mean it isn’t ovetly deficient in any capacity. The oak and fruit tannins are there, that predictable stonefruit with hamfisted turbidity, that’s fine. With the apricot game divested from the hook, chain and hinges, you have to come hard as fuck to stand out these days.
Glass selection: not accidental
This ends up drinking like a baby Mimosa, some delicate Bellini that would pair perfectly with some Hollandaise smothered eggs. The acidity thankfully doesn’t poison things with acetic butyric acid collisions. But what is the grapple point that allows you to ascend higher? Sadly I have a hard time distinguishing this from something that is good but not great like Peach Bu. For the average person, that alone would be enough to compel a nocturnal emission, so take what I say with a rope of salt.
IS THE SQUEEZE WORTH THE JUICE?
Well, yes and no. Since this isn’t trading apeshit high yet, it would be a great time to lock down and see if you enjoy their gentle offerings early on, At the same time, there are so. fucking. many. apricot sours these days. This is an above-average but not world class iteration of well tread ground.
AH NOW FOR SOMETHING- wait this is the same as that other Gose. god damn it.
Alright, since I am already at 1000 words, let’s suffice it to say that this is VERY similar to the Super GOING, the symmetry has a marginally “worse” lemon pledge zest to it that is still basically just crushable alcoholic gatorade. It lacks the fusel components to make it legit Faderade, but you can crush this at Tee Ball games before you get ejected for screaming redfaced at third grade competitors. IT’S LIKE HE ISN’T EVEN LISTENING OUT THERE.
If only I could make this with a can of powder in my cereal cabinet.
Do you like lemon lime powerade? Do you enjoy all of those innumerable PETITE X,Y,Z, from De Garde? Then you will love this. That’s all there is to it.
HANG ON THEY MAKE HOPPY BEERS TOO, arguably the best things that they make, LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT OKAY
OH SHIT GLASSWHALE ALERT
Alright so roll call:
Sours? Yup. Stouts? Yup. FINE. But what about the elusive hoppy cross sections, can they do that shit? HUH?
The answer is a resounding FUQQQYASSSS and not unlike the Tin Man, I will miss these most of all.
GOD DAMN THAT FROTH
Listen, I know this is a sour/saison/linestepping AWA, but the hops are so fucking phenomenl in this lemon meringue banger I had to holler. The nose is an assault of flawless guava, mango, pureed pineapple and tangerine. The taste has this whiskey sour with real egg white whip to the mouthfeel that underscores the light lacto aspects, like lemon Jello. This goes hard in the paint and it would be their best offering if not for THIS DIPA THAT GOES BALLS TO AND AROUND THE WALL:
Hop cones so good ex be calling you at 2am just to get dugout in the cellar
This is the pinnacle of what Grimm is about and it crushes in a field that is almost impossible to distinguish yourself. The DIPA game has radically changed in the past 2 years, all those Conan yeast infections now make people shy away from clean DIPAs and the sappy resin game has been handed to Founder’s in a resounding rejection of parsimony. This takes that smoothie whip of London Ale III strain, the loving embrace of sticky cones, white grape, tonnage of honeydew, this long lacquer finish like cut lumber in shop class. It is on par with the other incredible giants in the “messy DIPA” realm like the Crusher and reaches longingly at the Ephraim crown.
It takes a lot to make a noteworthy DIPA in this ultra sticky market
This might be the best new DIPA I have had this year and it is a vast understatement to say that you should trade for it. These are “pricey” at $5 a can, but god damn, you would be remiss to overlook something that has the potential to push the genre to bold new resinous buds.
THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE TICKER
THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE
THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE
THAT LAST BATCH WAS NOTHIN
NOTHIN
THIS SHIT IS CALLED HOPDEAF, YOU SIP IT AND U GO DEAF.
dontdrinkbeer 