Inb4DGM. Happy Camp is….pretty fine. I don’t mean that in a “reverse kangol catcaller” sort of “fine” I mean it in an even keeled elevator discussion, things are “fine.” It’s neither too sticky nor too danky nor too oil forward, it doesn’t have a vegetal aspect, but the limited arugula tones are offset by a pineapple undercarriage that reduces palate road noise. It is pleasant and doesn’t command your attention, nor does it add a red squiggly underline for execution errors either. 

It exists in the most competitive segment possible and fucks nothing up and emerges unscathed as a driller that encounters no alpha acid bedpan. The bittering boil hops aren’t hamfisted and the swallow reminds me of those cum colored life savers. Whatever flavor that is supposed to be. It’s a beverage that enhances your pre-existing activity, without trying to be the activity itself, it’s a manifest of what Michelob ultra ads want to portray. Shit is fine.

Commonwealth Brewing big papi tosses its hat into the ever increasing DIPA pint can realm, with tempered success. First and foremost, you’ll notice that this is an anomalous CA ale strain in a land of Conans and Boddingtons, NO FLAKED OAT ARE WE SAVAGES OR ARE WE CICERONES. The body has residual sweetness like those crystal laden offerings from Founders, but it is laced in so tightly that it doesn’t become cloying. There’s some biscuit with THC extract drizzle, honeycomb and composted pine needles, and an oily papaya finish. 

It’s like eating tropical produce with incense burning in an 8th graders bedroom, just enough probable cause for the charges to stick. While not entirely ale changing, just seeing a brewery akin to Modern Times that is able to produce consistent, classic, thoughtful renditions of old staples is quite refreshing. I mean, it could have cardamom or grits added to the mash and I wouldn’t be surprised in this 2017 beer climate.

We Ded Mon, the pulpy 11% beast Jack Lalanes its way onto the TIPa scene, with mixed results. It has massive grist and whipped lemon meringue, home run pie filling, a frothy expansive carbonation like steamed milk and just enough creamy orange sherbert body to offset the considerable wafty structure of this beast. 

It is one of the most complex iterations in this style and somehow remains drinkable which is almost problematic given the abv. You’ll be drunk dialing chicks from your Junior High yearbook, reeking of citra and raked pine needles 🌲, kids coming downstairs thinking juice Santa is here. 

The finish is long and resinous, bitter, imbalanced but still lovable like ur fashion student exGF. Grapefruit rind hits hard like Kimbo Slice, I can only see limited utility for this but the role that it hits can jump start or immediately end a casual evening.

A pretty solid offering from them Mountie boys, albeit not a barn-shifter in the hay baling realm. This is attenuated and Dialed harder than the economy soap aisle, Dove soft, all Levers pulled. It is oddly bitter like pear skin, with a middle body that’s like Lime Le Croix, insubstantially thin body that swallows like prickly Powerade. 

There’s a yeasty phenolic aspect to the swallow kinda akin to banana peel pith that reminds me of Blaugies. It’s very easy to drink but lacks the mouthfeel or complexity of the god tier offerings in this realm. If Jester King is La Coste, this is somewhere in the Gant spectrum. dominioncity continues to make beers that are super delicate however not the loudest attention seeking rabble rousers on the farm.

Rode a nice lil 20 mile jaunt in the Pasadena hills and now doing my best Blend Raymond  impression with some @highlandparkbrewery WHOOPS! With every single batch HPB gets closer and closer to snatching that Monkish 👑

Bonus oscars shout out to those Brussels sprouts with egg, mandatory:

Any time a ba honey saison drops the Ann comparisons are hot in the de miel realm, which is hardly ever fair. This lacks the grace and creamy poise of that Whaley giant but provides its own citrus honeycomb 🐝 run up the fretboard. 

Lacing, retention and carb all leave something to be desired and wisp away instantly like that classic Upland sucrose krausening that Irish goodbyes immediately. The nose however is phenomenal and offers a flower bomb bouquet of cut lime, zested lemon, mealy Sierra Mist, and a hint of agave nectar. Barrel presence is muted and drying and contributes a type of Riesling finish to the swallow making you feel like a Step mom driving a Chrysler Pacifica with three car seats.

 It is intensely drinkable almost to a fault, the 500ml was gone insanely fast and had the same trappings of a jester king 750: is it a fault if the beer is TOO crushable? Is it a sleight if it’s so pleasant it doesn’t command your attention and merely provides a gentle joi de vivre for the moment? Well the Chainsmokers went platinum so anything is possible. This is a fantastic beer and has nods to the inimitable oxbow ba pale ale, that perfect g spot of accessibility to quality compelling multiple farmhouse climaxes in the hay loft.

Around February every brewery with grist to mill sets out and drops their own “zomg PtY destroyer” and it becomes this anomalous season of endless triple ipas right around Valentine’s Day when ex-bando beer nerds are getting the most mileage out of their Real Dolls. 

Tipa is an inherently clunky socks and sandals kinda style, not quite comfortable and very easily falling in the oppressively tactless aesthetic. This beer is not quite Pliney the Hypedest, but it is unquestionably well crafted. There is an overriding lack of balance and aquanet ethanol waft that warms the whole squad like hood whippets. It has a massive pine and mandarin presence, there’s a honey like some GMO enhanced Hopslam. The middle swallow is artfully dialed in, arugula with blood orange fernet. It’s extremely complex but almost too massive for its own good, crushing like a Dark Souls boss but so fulfilling to complete.

That’s some sleek ass marketing. Reviews on BA are mixed which usually means that the brewery is actually awesome.

We shall see.

What an odd duck we have here. At first blush I thought I was in for some off brand bb4d goodness, then I saw the treatment and the abv and my expectations were more tapered than Bruno Mars’s jeans. Sherry. What are we gonna do with this deviant? It has the same burnt raisin, port wine, orchard decay type of smell you expect, toffee buried underneath gasping for air. 

I mean, it’s fine, but this beer is like having a son who scraps copper for living and your older barleywine son is a poetleaureate. Compelling argument for nurture over nature. There’s a pleasant Old ale underpinning with toasted pumpernickel and flan, but then here comes Sherry from accounting ruining everyone’s good times saying “you can’t have a katana sword in the break room.” 

The sherry reminds me of plum hookah, weird tobacco meets false fruit found in flavored dental products. You can do far worse but knowing what Kuhnhenn is capable of, this beer dropped out of Brown to pursue its dreams of being an old ale tattoo artist. I just expected more, come on, flash art?