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Fish Tale Leviathan Barleywine, Leviathan enters the battlefield tapped and doesn’t untap during your untap step

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Oh SHIT, Magic the Gathering jokes at the outset? Where do we even go from there? So I was in a local liquor store and I saw this dusty janky bottle with an unreadable label in the cooler and I couldn’t believe that they 1) had distribution of this beer and 2) they had the tiny penis format of it which meant it is a 2009 or earlier. The guy had no idea what it was and said it was here since “[he] started in 2009” and the price tag was illegible. He sold it to me for $4.25. Shit was so cache.

You would expect me to get all Biblical to balance out the Behemoth review and, well, you'll see-

Fish Tale Brewing Leviathan, 10% american Barleywine

I guess this shit is appropriate

A: The appearances goes to an English place really quickly and doesn’t mess around with a whole hoppy beautiful amber hue, fuck that, this beer just reaches straight for the shotgun and starts offing malt zombies. For the age, the beer has a mild amount of carbonation, but I am not trying to be a hater, some beers are born flatter than others, just as God intended. Flashes of light penetrate and show deep ruby hues but for the most part it is so amber that you wonder how your life got to this point, drinking old ass barleywine and typing on a laptop instead of doing something constructive like learning Armenian.

When I walked into the liquor store and saw an old ass bottle of barleywine with no price tag, I was all like-

S: I think that age has strangely helped the bouquet and enhanced the overall sweetness. The hops are long gone, those days have passed and all the hop families have moved out, leaving only the malty discarded remains. But sticky otter malt tagging is beautiful and the toffee, tobacco, butterscotch and gooey marshmallow are welcome here, despite gentrification.

T: The taste is timid, like a beagle that took one too many pisses inside and has been kenneled savagely. This beer has been kenneled for over 3 years so, give it some time. It imparts an initial malty watery paw that has a bit of hops and slowly emerges with a raisin and plum character but gets shy and lets water dominate again, until it finally emerges from the Petco crate and you see that this barleywine is house trained with a beautiful integration present. God damn I wish they had more bottles of this gem. They said there were 3 on premises but it was an archived inventory so god knows where the rest of these beasts are hiding, I would check the crawlspace.

Wait, so a world class barleywine, aged for me, for less than the price of a Coors Light at Applebees. What am I reading?

M: The mouthfeel is thin and the barley is a beaten, abused character that as a result makes sweet love to your mouth. That wasn’t an inmate joke but if you’re going to go there, I wont stop you. The beer is just so damn gentle and pleasant. I usually and the guy who wants to take a beer heads up and get socked up, but this one takes you by the hand and shows you the lanyard and hemp bracelet that it made for you and you can forgive the muted candy notes, the light dates and splishy splashy malt character. It is a shy child but entirely domesticated.

D: This is a such a gentle kitten, so domesticated from the years in the bottle that it makes sweet palate love to anyone who will give it a minute of time. The 10% abv might as well be Coors light platinum given how indetectible it hides within the water profile and just chills out, prison bitch #1. As it warms, those abused ass hops start to speak up in therapy and impart some high alpha acid residue that isn’t off putting, but it is good to see them coming out at all. Applause resounds for their breakthrough. Bottle prison is some serious shit. According to the commercial ddescription: “Leviathan rises out of Pale, Carastan, and Chocolate malts with monstrous additions of Chinook hops for bitterness and Cascade hops for flavor and aroma. This vintage ale finishes quite dry after a long maturation period. As it comes of age in the keg, subtle flavors of sherry, pear, and roasted nuts will develop.” They aren’t fucking kidding.

Even with age and time to ruminate upon the intricacies, this shit is still too complex for me.

Narrative: Levi Nathan’s eHarmony profile was getting no fucking love. Sure he was the heaviest bro on the water polo team but he deserved a hot Charlotte Rousse type of chick because his personality was so clutch. His dad was all like “Hey LEVI! GET A FUCKING JOB!” but Levi wasn’t hearing that shit, while shooting no looker goals he was like “Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook or tie down his tongue with a rope?” It was pretty evident you couldn’t wrangle this bad ass. Sure Levi had a matted series of bleached blonde locks and scaly tan, chemically destroyed skin, but fuck that, he was asking Madison Jergens to winter formal. He lumbered up to her all clumpy and collected and gurgled to her, ” Who has a claim against me that I must pay? Everything under heaven belongs to me.” But then that hater ass broad was super not DTF, winter formal or otherwise. Other dudes were clowning the shit out of him from the Trireme that they constructed and Levi told those haters, “Who dares open the doors of his mouth, ringed about with his fearsome teeth?” Then they knew he was super serial, and stopped fucking with Levi. When he got upset, people’s lives were ruined in an almost allegorical manner.

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Three Floyd’s Bourbon Barrel Vanilla Bean Aged Dark Lord, The Hnngs are substantial

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Even while sweet and vanilla, this is still the darkest of lords.

Three Floyd’s Vanilla Aged Dark Lord, 15% abv Imperial Stout

A: The appearance is a deep murky dark brown with wispy light carbonation, but again, I didn’t obtain this in the most legitimate manner, so that likely has something to do with it. The booziness it huge and coats in clear angry strands.

S: There is an incredible vanilla sweetness like a fresh macaroon or vanilla frap. Amazing chocolate and coffee notes support the back end, there’s a waft of huge heat to this that stings the nostrils with a deep heat.

This picture is the complete opposite of Vanilla Dark Lord: smooth, hot, sweet, interesting.

T: The initial taste is incredibly sweet with intense vanilla. The vanilla integrates seamlessly and the sweetness isn’t cloying like the normal Darklord. It is a complete improvement on the old formula. Why in the world that they don’t bottle this is beyond me. There is an amazing coffee and burnt chocolate taste to this beer that just lingers on and on. It like a kiss from an eskimo, who somehow has coffee and chocolate with him.

M: The mouthfeel is like the old school Darklord with an intense heat to it, sticky coating, and lasting sweetness that inherits your mouth in fee simple. It isn’t going anywhere any time soon. This is a good thing since the bold mouthfeel is incredible and welcome just nestled in my molars. My dentist doesn’t approve but HE IS NOT THE BOSS OF ME.

You just wish every beer could be like this beer.

D: Oddly, for a crazy 15% abv stout, this is somehow drinkable. I wish that I had a huge serving of this amazing rare beer, but I dont have the means to perpetually land this crazy beast. I love the sweet heat of this and can only look at Vanilla Darklord as he speeds away with his hand pressed against the back window of the stationwagon as it speeds away, away from my tiny heart.

Narrative: I can’t even write a narrative because my maltboner is at full attenuation. This is insanely good and top 10 stout for sures.

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Hair of the Dog Matt, Matt is a Sick Bro, Boozy, But Super Chill.

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Oh wow, another top 100 beer? Look who is on a roll this week and has two thumbs, ::using index fingers:: this guy.

Like most of the Matt's I know, this one is boozy but super chill.

Hair of the Dog, Matt, American Strong Ale, 11.5% abv

A: This beer is flatter than a Taiwanese gymnast. No head to speak of and mild reluctant bubbles at the edges are the underwhelming response after a hard pour. It is a deep dark plum/mahogany color with no middle carbonation, clearly. Look how flat it is, and then, make your own small breast reference.

This beer is almost too complicated for my tastes.

S: Wow, this has a huge bouquet to it. It smells like an “Imperial Quad” with abundant smoked raisins, figs, burnt plums, charred dark fruits and some chocolate body in there. Quite a complicated little brew, but interesting to say the least.

T: Wow, for a flat beer, this is incredibly tasty. This maintains that same Quad character on the taste with a nice malty raisin sweetness, currants, and a mild chocolate flavor. The swallow is a bit boozy but nothing too overpowering. I could imagine this being pretty violent fresh from the tank but it seems to have mellowed amiably. There’s a hot vanilla at the end, like that one violent white kid from Gardena that packs a snubnose heater. You know the one.

This dark sassy brew has an amiable quality.

M: The mouthfeel is hot with bourbon singing the gumline but in a fulfilling way. It imparts an alcoholic dryness with a nice oaky character. Again, this is a strange hybrid beer that would be incredible if not for, ok, the carbonation horse has been beat to death. I’LL JUST HOOF IT TO THE NEXT SECTION.

D: This is way too hot and warm to session up on. Thankfully they realized this and bottled it in 12oz bottles so it is packaged just right. Ultimately it is an anomaly like Dragonforce where you are impressed by the crazy plethora of things going on but ultimately can’t sit through a 2 hour set. Too much heat from the face melting vanilla solos.

After a bottle of this hot rampaging ale, I need to stop internetting.

Narrative: The air was thick and hot like the congealed top layer of a hot soup. The humidity stuck to Brash Proveccio’s face in a spiteful manner. “Alright, no more messing around, stack that product over there, yeah, a full quart” he barked to his lackey’s in a firm, serious tone. “Alright, now what made you think that you could muscle in on our market?” he spit as he talked, boozy and laced with tobacco, it hit the face of Sabas Zapato and lingered. “I just- never thought that, it’s just….FIREWOOD!” Brash slammed his fist down on the charred stump next to him. “JUST FIREWOOD? The likes of you should even be able to touch freshly cut SOFT MAPLE WOOD!” Zapato shifted in his chair nervously. He never thought that his unlicensed gardening venture would land him in this type of trouble. “Tell you what, since it’s just FIREWOOD and I’m the only one in Bergen county allowed to SELL FIREWOOD, how’s about I drop a fresh gross on each and every one of your family member’s driveways?” “NO….PLEASE!” “Yeah, that’s right tough guy, everyone’s going to be significantly late to whatever appointments that they may need to attend, imagine them, movin all that wood out of the way, just to get out of the garage, YOU WANT THAT?” Zapato began to sob and, through the thick, sticky air murmured, “Take all the Alder, all the Almond, any green woods you want, even the Beachwood, please just don’t….don’t make them the victims of fire wooding.” Brash split open a fresh log of Ash wood, he was fired up indeed.

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Halfacre Marty Stouffer’s Wild America….Barleywine? I GUESS.

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I prefer Marty's Stouffer's Stuffing, but his Wild America will do in a pinch.

Halfacre Marty Stouffer’s Wild America Barleywine, 10% abv

A: This is a pretty core barely wine, no typo there. It doesn’t seems to have a crazy maltiness to it but it’s still pretty alluring with this bad boy murkiness that drives all the irresponsible 14 year old girls super cray. All it needs is a red jacket with some zippers. The murkiness subsides and it looks like a ruby amber ale.

S: Nice sweet booziness almost like brandy but not in that Your Boy is Mine sort of way. There’s some sticky caramelized figs and sweet red grape in the mix all like Bill Bellamy, trying to be a player.

It says barleywine, but my heart is saying no. If this beer wants to be with me, it has to rub me the right way.

T: There is absolutely no sweetness on this lil barleyride. It presents a hop forward character that makes you cock your head back like Ed Lover, come on son. The whole profile is overly herbal and feels like they dry hopped it for too long or added copper to the boil, the old currency maneuver. Oldest brewing trick in the book. The notes say that this was “Brewed with Cascade and Falconer’s Flight hops” maybe they needed to calm the cascading down a bit and falconer their asses back to burleywines.

Not quite sure where this beer is going, but it doesn't seem good.

M: The mouthfeel is weak and doesn’t have all the pizzazz of burly wines, it’s more like a haughty Imperial IPA that seems to have lost its way. I dont hate it, but it’s like an illfitting shirt that makes you have mantits, or notits if you are a woman. Take your pick, the tit presentation is calamitous. One thing I do enjoy is this hint of booziness at the finish that is its redeeming quality. Makes me nod like a proud father who threw his stepson into the deep end for the first time because I’m sorry, does the bmx need to be in the driveway every single day, not once can it be on the sideyard where you lovingly build a place for it to be locked u- what were we talking about?

D: Drying herbal assault vs. clean finish. It ends up being a nonstarter and defaults to a normal level beer. It’s like you hope all those conjugal visits pay off, but really you’re just having sex with a prisoner. So yeah, you could do worse Sheila, but you can also do moderately better. It’s a mid-range offering for a Charles Barkleywine, but it’s not a show stopper.

When I think of shit that is wild in America, things like this come to mind, not strange barleywines.

Narrative: The documentary just wasn’t going as planned. The gaean essences were remote in this particular section of the tundra and Marty was having a tough time echoing his animalistic call. “Aeeeouggghhhhiiiii!!!!!” the scream reverberated through the hills and over the nearest ridge. A lone cameraman shook his head despondently. “Marty, hey, I know you were dead set on your ability to communicate with the animals but, let’s go with something a little less ambitious, how about just filming them, huh?” the cameraman hazarded after 5 hours of tense waiting. Marty rose up on his massiive 6’1″ frame and stared down his brow at Phillip mencaingly. “OH, another has come to doubt the innate ability of THE WILD.” “No no, Marty, hey it’s just that, we haven’t shot a single frame and what with all the yelling, I think you’re scaring the animals away.” The two walked for a kilometer in silence and Marty spun on a single heel and faced Phillip. “BE SURE, not to miss this next shot-aaaiueeieieihhhhhoouuu!” Marty called out and a narwhal broke through the ice, tusk and all and began slowly creeping towards Phillip. “ATTACK!” the narwhal lazily waddled over towards Phillip, being filmed the entire time. “Yeah, this is great stuff Marty, real menacing.” Phillip quipped and rattled off frame after frame. Marty folded his arms insouciantly; his project did not go as planned.

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1/2 Idjit! Porter, Dugges Ale, Sweden Only Rocks 1/2 a Idjit

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For those who can't take a full Idjit, here's just a 1/2 Idjit. The size of the porter isn't everything.

A: The appearance is dark and murky with deep iced tea browns at the edges. It looks like the repository water at your favorite water park. It has pretty mild carbonation and comes off as lackluster as a Deer Tick album, it just doesn’t care if you enjoy it or not. Which is strange because I thought Sweden was all into helping its citizens and giving away everything for free.

Meanwhile in Sweden. . .

S: The smell is like a chocolate ashtray, burnt malts, like a scorched boil happened or someone was abusing cocoa beans something fierce. There’s also a deep coffee smell and a sort of tobacco finish. I’m not stoked to drink this and the $14.00 price tag didn’t help matters much. I was probably just subsidizing the health care of those poor Swedish brewers.

T: This is burnt malt at first and then the smoky notes sheepishly show up slowly. The whole Racine tragedy unfolds as the triangle love interest is completed with stale coffee as the virgin martyr. This might be a compelling one man monologue but the whole thing just takes way too long and has no fulfilling finish, it’s like Kurt Russell in a glass.

This is my life if I never had Idjit again, full or half.

M: the mouthfeel is thin and swift, imparting burnt cigar and chocolate dust along my teeth. I dont think my teeth whitening was worth the offshading that this beer imparts but, it is dead on for the genre so I guess we can’t knock it for giving the old college try. The old second string noseguard for
Kent State sort of try.

D: Overall, I dont smoke and I dont make out with people who smell like American Spirits. So I guess, no, not very drinkable and I am not stoked to drop a ton of MAD COIN on this Swedish meatball again.

Oh no, I just drank the whole bottle. Oh yes, that was a waste of money and calories.

Narrative: Torgny stabbed the arctic sheeting lightly and stared off into the distance. “TORGNY! You are must to be making the sheets faster! LARGER!” his supervisor called out to him. Life was rough on the ice farm. What with the whole, making the ice, waiting til the 9 month winter season and harvesting it; life was rough and cold. Torgny would complain, however, every morning at the crest of 12:45 p.m. when the sun was rising, he would see his old classmates pile out of the brewery. Each looked comically like a Victorian era oil prospector, smoking an oversized cigar, eating Toblerones with careless abandon. “That life is not for me to be having,” he thought in broken English and shook his head. Sure his hands would split with terrible cold and his ice sheets would only be made into Formula 50 Smart Water, but there could be nothing less fulfilling than making chocolate tobacco water that no one liked. “TORGNY, is the timing for the lunching RESPITE!” MMM sweet huskmankolst and tasty pitepolt.