Legitimately one of the best beers ever made, transcending style or confines of structured qualifiers. It’s massive without being flabby, toasty but sweet, intense flavor without bullshit additives or artificial pretenses. It delivers the best of a barrel program, saturation and oak with residual spirit aspects in a framework that never spikes your blood sugar or completely nerfs your palate. The bakers cocoa and chocolate Madeline aspect just lingers crazier than Taylor on Bachelor in Paradise. I’ve already written way too much about this beer but it’s never enough. Goat alert.

Funk Factory Frampaars is back with a vengeance, but is this more of a “Reloaded” or a “Strikes Back” situation? A lil of column A and bit of column B. The drawback is that this is more acidic than the OG version and presents less sticky berry presence. The tradeoff is that the nose is incredibly floral and has a farmers market or berry blossom quality to it. You can huff this under an overpass it never gets old. The taste is still very good and presents depth, dry barrel character, tannins like a mineral forward Bordeaux, and this swallow that goes on and unpacks like peel n pull Twizzlers. If you try to drink this colder than 50 Degrees you’re in for rough ride because that’s where the sour patch children reside, and their sweet demeanor is wholly absent in the cold. However, like a timid bumble date, let this get warm and open up and it pays smoochy cherry chapstick dividends. There’s this great framboise aspect and a tart depth akin to black cherry that reminds me a lot of the way back 07 Hommage, not lactic and overpowering like some of the Side Project small format bottles, but not the sheer cheesy musky drie culture either. It reaches across the aisle with one part American brash power yet reconciled with a certain old world age and restraint. Go buy it tomorrow if you feel like dabbling in a wildly tasty and original wild ale, I don’t give a shit.

Wisconsin box round II. Funk Factory sweeping the leg. I’ll try to let you guys know if that Frampaars b2 shit is legit before the BPT sale tomorrow morning. Ddb drinking WI beer so you don’t have 2.

@sudwerkbrew just lighting my shit up with some wild dark sour BALs. I really enjoy their Barrel program but their regular offerings used to suck shit, so maybe this pils will carry the day.

God damn, this isn’t graceful or particularly bashful but it just absolutely lights you up with smuckers and danish jelly jams. It’s such a hefty lingering viscosity to the mouthfeel and sweet distilled preserves that berries actively feel bad for me in the best way. It’s a one note uncrustable that omits the lipids in favor of a jelly sammie of recess shattering proportions. Syrupboarding myself in Gitmo so the US gov can find out the blueberry access codes. This is essentially the brash three floyds execution in mead form, somehow pushing that Kuhnhenn paradigm to new smashed heights.

Glad to see Seattle has their own BMI-spiking saccharine emporium to offset their jittery coffee drinking lifestyles.

It’s scary how accurately 1987’s The Running Man predicted our present condition.

Bitburger be peepin but it ain’t about that Life. Lorem ipsum res ipsa loquitor

The life speaks for itself. When you merge an nice malty American barleywine with bitterness akin to this Crowpluckers like grat, you need something like sweet sticky creme brûlée shell Brandy barrels to temper the residual alpha acids. Duraflame logs, conifer vape Oils and caramelized brown sugar. Bananas fosters put in a nug grinder, it’s a strange merging of worlds but I dig it. It’s not excessively flabby and doesn’t get sugar shakes or suffer from a case of the glucose Wambles. It’s very solid and I was shocked this life got the ratings it did out the gates but a bit of time has tempered and integrated this caramello gem.

I had no idea who @cranebrewing was before I opened this and god damn if this isn’t pure greyhound zested grapefruit insanity. This gose may have a touch of brackishness but the citrusy profile leans towards pith and muddled rind. It isn’t acidic as it is a touch bitter like the actual flesh of some ruby red from an 80s fad diet. I had half of the bottle before I started feeling a touch of palate fatigue, which isn’t a neg per se. It dries and loads some nuance to what could be some kind of cringey ballast point constellation wincefest. There’s no wood cleaner or warhead, so in the scope of enjoyable summer drillers, this is highly satisfying.

I usually write some pithy epigram like “ho ho Oddside makes almost world class Shasta ales that are accessible to everyone.” Every cicerone slaps their thighs and it comes off and either condescending or disrespectful to Oddside. I mean this with the utmost reference possible: oddside really makes trading seem like a non viable game in the stout world. They make gems that are so fucking stellar and close to their ultra hyped counter parts that to do so and have them readily available is a compelling tip of the trilby. I have extreme reverence for any brewery that can do one thing exceptionally well and put it in the hands of so many. Firestone Sucaba. Live Oak hef. Logsdon ba seizoen. Hell even regular ass bcbs sitting in Target. Oddside is the perfect paradigm of bringing top tier quality to people who maybe don’t want to drop a car payment in FedEx bills. This beer is a testament to that. It has fantastic smoky sweet espresso roast with a sort of chickory syrup aspect like a baller ass barista bought a Blichman system and started fingering beans. The body as usual for Oddside is a touch thin but not to the point of a neg it’s still substantial and delivers a blast of IHOP cunnilingus, sticky sweet maple grool. The whole experience pulls at bitter roast and sweet greasy McGriddle. The rye variant adds a more pronounced spice that I enjoy more because it cleaves the coffee profile and creates flavor partitions for the long chocolate kiss goodnight. Bag cereal never tasted so good, m’marshmallow matey. 

Monkish can compel 230 seemingly unemployed dudes to appear like a Rogue familiar within an hours notice on a Thursday afternoon. Bathe in wait lines for some, mac90 for others. This falls on the lighter and more vibrant side of the standard world class Monkish dipa fair, more sherbert and kumquat rind, flintstones push up pop coupled with chard. Those cans are always teeth gnashing because there’s no throttle limiter and the less “juicy” [cf. cans with less residual sugars] are as drillable as an old school west coast ipa with a silky powder coating. If the drawback is that your beer is consumed too easily, you just entered the most ShaunHillest of problems, and the attendant tears taste like orange Julius [fn1]

[fn1] I have never tasted Shaun Hill tears because the razzle was full when I went to ppff