My love for NODA hop drop n roll is well documented, we need not revisit those deep piles of Eros at this juncture. This is the first ipa to come from the southern United States, [inb4 “Texas is a republic gods country ain’t not the south nowhere like it on earth can’t call it the south the annexing was improper president Harrison was a snake oil grifter” and all that shit] since HDnR that came out the gates swinging with such hoppy panache and citrus aplomb that I couldn’t help but rank the two abreast.
This beer was still delicious and it was sent across the country in a fucking cherry Pepsi plastic 2 liter. Think about that. The carb was gentle and foamy with a light creaminess like HF Edward, the look was a full brassiness that wasn’t radiant but seemed poised to judo chop your jugular with alpha oils.

The nose is a deep bouquet of grapefruit, lemongrass, pine, tangelo, and a hint of nectarine with a light honey finish. It is phenomenal and you can huff this like those Lemon sir marks a lot markers from your youth. The taste is nimble and clean with a lingering stickiness to the mouthfeel like a baby Hopslam, a touch of agave and deep citrus pith, the whole affair is refreshing and simultaneously substantial. It is distinctively west coast in execution and transplanted immaculately, like a first growth taking to nitrogen fixation as though it were native soil. If you are a botanist, I will allow yoga moment to clean the cream out of your jeans from that last simile.

This is not only worth trying, it is worth actively seeking out as there likely won’t be a readily available local analog to this phenomenal IPA. Highly recommended.

Just grip that growler hard, caress the foamy opening.

This batch was a bit maltier and more resinous that previous batches, but still such a phenomenal IPA.
Hnnnggg.
Full cone completion .

Look at that muddy hen, all oxidized and laying in the pooling damp earth insouciantly. This is a dirty ghost that doesn’t use deodorant but is old enough to make it’s own decisions. The carb held up nicely for these 19 years and the HP bubble jet label is looking stately.

The nose of this beer exhibits a good amount of cork, plywood, a slightly bready and yeasty profile like over ripe banana and a light metallic finish. The taste has a caramel aspect up front that lingers into a mineral/Fuji apple light tartness that is pretty pleasant. The entire affair has a musky canvas tarp draped over it, exhibiting an attic love that only fellow antiquers will appreciate. If you stroke it to storage wars and love rooting around in the hulls of frigates, this oaky oxy adventure might have the musk levels you require.

There are certain bourbons that may benefit from additional aging, that EC20 being a prime example. This Orphan Annie comes across like it hit full saturation in the oak and then kept on sprinting. The nose has a nice floral aspect, lumber mill shavings, and a faint varnish aspect to it. Your wood is getting worked one way or another.

The taste is again, so much lumber and oak, but incredibly mellow and lacking any real scorching solvent aspect to the swallow. The heat is muted and you essentially receive a cord of firewood in exchange for the dark fruits or sweet notes you would anticipate from younger variants. Pretty tasty but my baby palate still prefers the toffee and buoy of fruity safety.

I don’t know shit about bourbon. I’m just posting these to mix things up a bit.

Pray for the D.

I miss the days when this sat on shelves in Whole Foods. I am glad I don’t have access to this otherwise this site would be nothing but pics of this and Humulus lager every night

And Zima xxx.

I feel like we already covered this.

TIMEOUT.com tackles sexist beer labels, srs untread ground, Pulitzer prizes on deck

At a certain point, shit just gets so ridiculous you go “alright, I guess these are the next 2000 empty calories I am gonna punch through this weathered frame.”

At least now I can finally drink Live Oak Hef in broad daylight on the street as God and Texas intended.

Never disappoints. Large pours necessary, no substitute.

Look at that ruby red frothiness just sitting there all petulant and sour, not even seeking your approval but earning your respect anyway. It’s like the bad ass substitute teacher who puts fresh raspberries on his desk hit doesn’t give a fuck if not a single inner city punk takes one. This beer has a muddy albeit oddly beautiful aspect to it’s turbid nature. You know a metric shitload of berries went into this beer because slight agitation covers the glass in mashed up skins and kerns juiciness. It looks like royal crushed velvet and the pink foam is on point like getting your clit pierced at Claire’s.

The nose is the absolute best smell side project has put out to date and goes in locking arms with Rose De Gambrius and De cam framboise on sheer berry blastocyst goodness. It isn’t jam or jelly donut, it is straight up migrant labor, I am talking $3.99 plastic containers at the grocery store, the earthy and floral product of knees deep in silt. Also, acid. Lots and lots of acid. Those two coupled together is like a glass of Robeks smoothie for a man escaping his demons from when he used to work at Jiffy Lube.

The taste still has a massive berry presence and sends shattered dry signals along your jawline, vibrating with juicy passion along the way. Your molars will swell with delight and anticipation as the raspberry framboise drops sour patch kid bombs into the burgeoning pockets of ph3.0 love below. It is more drinkable than Fuzzy, in no small part to the FUCKING AMAZING MOUTHFEEL. I mean this. When it warms it has a fantastic creamy naked juice finish to the mouthfeel like fresh pressed Whole foods goodness. The silky smooth carb and floating debris from a fresh harvest just makes it feel intensely wholesome like some apothecary remedy before you push a crimson smeared brood out into a bathtub at home.

Overall this is an exceptional raspberry beer regardless of style or genus or species. It has a touch too much tartness for my tastes , but the redeeming aspects vastly outnumber my picayunes and shitty complaints.

Go get it x

Gonna just fill that water bottle up with Nelson for that MONSTER 20 mile race this weekend. Stay hop hydrated.