I know palates are gonna palate, some find cask strength heater wheaters offputting, and the staggering $500+ cost of entry is oppressive, but this might be my favorite bourbon of all time. 

One of those “treatyoself” nights.

What is this sleeper gem from that frozen mitten? This beer is like some store brand bag cereal version of the Monkish/Treehouse realm but with a far lower cost of entry. The body is cheesecloth thin and you should absolutely wear it to the gentlemans club. You get papaya, mango, tangelo and blood orange rind but it is all tempered through this sort of chard shallot lenses. My favorite part is the lacing and retention on this thing, pillow top mattress tones just structure like mallowfoam, it feels like an under aged barista was involved in this whipped frapahopajuice. 

The middle body of it was odd in that it was kinda messy and had a tepid mouthfeel like literal juice, swallow is a long Darjeeling tea with a lemon scone involved. I’d be drilling these nonstop and hating the exposure if I were in Michigan, a silent hit for sure. Who is this Old Nation and what does their daddy do?

These Virginia breweries have no chill. This arms race is turning my body into a malt dumpster

Are you craving some Shasta Sosus? Well here you go. This massages your mosaic comes to oily discharge. This may be confusing, a DIPA that you can see through, that isn’t some arugula disaster or Jamba Juice discard bin. Again, this shit keeps it old school, with a hop that didn’t exist in the mid 2000s. Maybe it did. I don’t know go read beerpulse for hot breaking late 2000s news and label reprints.

It is such a pure iteration of the hop varietal that it remains focused and almost heavy handed in its execution. Mowed fescue and cut melon wind like a crisper drawer double helix. Breweries simply aren’t making stuff like this and it’s a fun/complex albeit less refreshing gap in the market. It runs the risk of becoming overbearing with a fusel aspect as it warms, but the tundra clean evergreen keeps things in check 🌲 

In post enlightenment France, revolutionaries destroyed all glass cleaner. A savage time of upheaval. Thankfully the beer is solid enough to shine over and above my nucleation sites. Orange Fanta mixes with candied tangerine peel, its La Croix spritzer with 50/50 bar mixed in. If anyone has had orange egg foam or OBang! You’ll know the feels. It is decidedly wild ale over and above saison, but that’s not a complete knock, ask Crooked Stave.

I could use a bit more grist or creaminess to the mouthfeel but the mineral swallow is not unwelcome. A Brett B profile and bitterness dominates the gumline but never becomes distracting. I enjoyed the lemon lime of papillon more 🦋 but this is still very tasty zesty Donald Duck. A hipster server once comped me a glass of orange wine and this is akin to that, like how last year everyone was all into Jura wines and every dipshit who went to Momofuku and savagely rides David Chang’s jock seeks out the newest and hottest: this is hot and new take on citrus with none of the exasperating secondary leveraging. 
I mostly just want bottles that have seen more of the country than I have, that Hyundai warranty mileage on them. BRB trading for VR.

I been juicing my cones to Melvin since they were Thai’ing tickers up in Jackson Hole. But when I saw they made like three imperial IPAs I had to pinch the bridge of my nose and wince at the usual Fusel wafty ethanol crystal bombs I am often subjected to. Melvin keeps shit Beachwood style old school, tightly crafted, neatly stitched late 2000s hop bombs. This beer is oddly drinkable for being well within strong ale abv, the bittering aspects are restrained and the nose is grand marnier and triple sec pushed through a christmas wreath. 

It’s diverse and layered, a bit o honey sweetness 🍯 to the body that drags like a dry Riesling hopslam. Swallow is intensely clean and without an oily drip. It’s the ground bloomer of the hop game, intense radiant burn for a hot second and then leaves you wanting another sip. It’s not hazy, it’s not a juice bomb. It’s the type of shit that buttresses style awards and reinforces tradition like when the new Honda Afford comes out and suddenly everyone has to have a lane departure warning. 

Stay outta Melvins lane.

Would have loved to land some early riser or whateverthefuckelse but, time to give these a fair shake.

Then they go and light up my chest like E.T.

Refresh is usually the beer that you order at Highland Park Brewing for your beta casual friend with a Corona-tier palate, but there’s something to be said for a crushable one dimensional beer after a hike. Shit this just turned into a Rolling Rock green light ad, ONE IMPERIAL STOUT PLS

My wife really enjoys this and she hates beer.

2017: they discontinue World Class Sucaba and replace it with a half sized brown ale. At least it comes in a legitimately adorable lego sized box. But what about the beer itself?

This used to be a component blended into anniversary Ales and when firestone would randomly tap it, it was some insane ultra casking to the tune of 3+ years. So now they bottled this. Well shit it worked with stickey monkee and the world has been in love with the teeming market of central coast quads ever since.

Candidly, I am all on board for smaller format, especially for babw since 1) they aren’t long for this world in my cellar so aging is unimportant 2) I can get pretty rekt instead of “reeking of toffee” rekt. The price point is fine, I don’t buy my barrel aged browns with an ebt card so $10 is fine for me. Sure someone can bring up some shit like “YOU CAN GET A FOUR PACK OF BELLS OLD ALE FOR THE SAME PRI-” get that guy out of here, people not from 2007 are talking.

Out the gates, this is not the super casky definer you may have had on tap. Akin to the Helldorado bait n switch, this is probably a touch different than you may have recalled from your filthy 3oz festival taster glass: but it is pretty damn good. It’s not within a country mile of Sucaba, but it will still back handspring roundhouse most BA strong ales to the face. 

I anticipate most people will complain this is a touch thin when compared to the vast stable of analogous bourbon aged imperial brown ales. Yes it is very tautly tailored and reminds me of some Julian Shrago beachwood shit where it threads the needle in a way that maybe some candy aisle bros will brusque at. The nose is pretty terrific with a cut lumber, walnut, almond skin, prailines and rolos. The taste is more bitter and toasted rye bread with a touch of residual sweetness. The carb is fine and silky like almond milk and the tannic light toast drags along the bitter zones like Nutella liquor. The beer doesn’t feel substantial and is blithely pleasant like the passing familiarity of a Ryan Reynolds movie, some charming bits but nothing to really mull over.

It is decidedly not in the barleywine or old ale pedigree but it falls pretty far from the Newcastle/Dogfish Head brown lineage as well, it’s like a super athletic son who wants to dedicate himself to billiards. I mean that’s fine, I am sure someone will enjoy that and there’s certainly some nine ball mastery at play here given the FW gold standard barrel program. The end result is something like the 2016 Dolphins season: it’s pretty solid for firestone, not their worst, but it didn’t take home any rings either.