Bullfrog Blue Condition Wild Ale, For PA Residents Still Hoping for Walez From That Aging Matriarch

I am going to address the residents of Pennsylvania for a moment here, so everyone else with dental insurance can tune out for a second: Bullfrog will not return to its previous glory. It was a marvelous time, but that age is over. I know you look longingly at Blue Cheer and Black Cherry Bomb and Bee Keeper and think of those simpler times but those beers were released back when it was illegal to hook up with chicks born in 1990. Now that is totally legal and the current state of affairs is in god damn shambles. People were all full sail when Oud 15 came out and the rest of us were all like “wait, 13% wild ale no one has tasted that everyone wants to trade away, hold on a second.” I know an anal bleaching when I see one. Anyway, let’s see what Bullfrog is up to in today’s growler only release, for the haters.

Frog Stomp.  We are making Silverchair references now.

Frog Stomp. We are making Silverchair references now.

Bullfrog Brewery
Pennsylvania, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.00% ABV

Because today we will be stomping…on Frog…God damnit you probably didn’t even lift in the 90s.

A: The carbonation is minimal and I don’t really want to blame fedex for this because I feel that some of this has to do with the body of the beer itself, which is on a Natalie Portman level of thinness and flatness and lacking tits in general. The look is a bit darker than I like my wild ales, but I don’t want to get things in a maltist ass prejudicial discussion. The dull copper and amber is nice but nothing to break out the charcoal set and draw like one of your French girls.

It is a down economy, I should be grateful for brewery only growler only releases, but, I am an insouciant prick. I dont even like beer.

It is a down economy, I should be grateful for brewery only growler only releases, but, I am an insouciant prick. I dont even like beer.

S: This is really muted and the acidity just kinda lays there with a light berry tannin that lets you pump away for $120, but doesn’t get into it. It is all business for this old blue cheer, and no one reads reviews of escorts beers anyway. Hey, you want some worse news? You have a full 64 ounces of this to deal with, AND YOU JUST FINISHED ASSASSIN’S CREED III. There is a bit of oak and some really tame acidity like the inside of a fruity pebbles box, but it is like that point during hooking up when you realize that you arent going any further than fingerbanging, and you have to leave the Hardee’s parking lot and drive home with your hand smelling all like Progresso soup. Kinda disappointing.

Two whole liters of this? Can I cho cho choose to drink something else?

Two whole liters of this? Can I cho cho choose to drink something else?

T: This is incredibly thin and simple in execution with a sort of metallic meets fusel alcohol character that is quickly covered by a sort of gushers/fruit roll up berry aspect. This comes across kinda like a weird Belgian golden that got mixed up with a weird berry gang so then you see them and you are like all “ok, a gang of Hmongs….wait…is that a fruit of the looms guy?” The aftertastes is kinda like Mike N Ike’s but in a movie theater sort of “fuck my mouth tastes like plastic” sort of way.

I thought I was gonna have some bad ass blueberry blabaer wild ale Cable Car hybrid, instead I got smashed frogs and berries

I thought I was gonna have some bad ass blueberry blabaer wild ale Cable Car hybrid, instead I got smashed frogs and berries

M: This would help if they didn’t decide to attempt to pound 8% abv into what is essentially a Honda CRX chassis. This is far too thin for what they were attempting to accomplish, give me something to hold onto. Ladies, you ever hook up with a swimmer and get creeped out because he is all smoothe? JUST KIDDING WOMEN DO NOT READ THIS WEBSITE YOU JUST HAD HOMOSEX THOUGHTS.

D: This is thin enough that you would think it would be something that you could take down easily but I shared this 2L growler and was bored pretty early into this endeavor. I actually started watching Do the Right Thing while I was drinking this and the beer was somehow worse than that shitty one dimensional movie, so one a scale from one to Spike Lee, this is Radio Rahim.

If the past 3 years of beer have been disappointing, maybe you should blame the PA beer reviewers?

If the past 3 years of beer have been disappointing, maybe you should blame the PA beer reviewers?

Narrative: “You sure you don’t need a ride home Mike?” Mrs. Chalmers offered to Mike while he sat and pounded his mitt looking off into the pouring down rain waiting for his absentee brother. It has been a long time since Mike’s brother Devin had done anything right for him, constantly abandoning him at practice, forgetting to support him, despite this he longed for that day when amazing things would happen again. He thought back to 2006 when life was good, things were simple, they would practice apiary and pick black cherries but now it was a series of let downs and even his friends went to hang out at Tired Hands Day Camp, which seemed to offer more fun activities than his asshole brother could muster these days. It wasn’t Mike’s fault, he was just living in the past, but the thinly veiled metaphors kept passing him on.


De Struise Five Squared, 130 euro bottle + 25% abv = Gucci Mane

Well let’s give a little background to those who missed the boat on this elusive, massive beast of a beer. De Struise took their Quad X and ice distilled it several times until it was 25% alcohol by volume. They made 240 of these, I understand that 216 of them were released to the public at the Alvinne Beer Festival to benefit a brewery expansion. This bottle was 130 euros and still had to be shipped from Belgium so, here we are. It finally ended its journey up in Kernville with Kyle and Eric from Kern River Brewing. What a life it led.

I usually hate on small pours from other janky beer blogs, at 25% abv, my 8oz pour was plenty.

De Struise Brouwers
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 25.00% ABV

A: First I have to say this bottle took the wax game to a whole new level. There were about 5-6 layers of what can only be described as Crayola wax. After that wax shattered everywhere and made a huge mess I got the cap off to find a CORK as well. The old Cantillon/Fantome Belgian trick keeping things gully. So the onlookers at Kern River thought I was a huge prick for bringing this elaborate beer to a Citra release, but I got it open. It was actually carbed pretty nicely for the body with gentle microbubbles and this huge sheeting of alcohol that looked like clear solvent that left relentless clear curtains on the glass. The beer was ruby to amber in hue with a lightly hazy aspect to it. Very pretty, all in all.

Ice distilled? 25%? 200 American dollars? Let’s do this shit. I doesn’t afraid of anything.

S: The smell at low temperatures was turbinado sugars and some dark fruits but as it opened up it exuded this delicious boozy tiramisu, toasted marshmellow, caramel, butterscotch, and sweet brandy aspect to it. The whole affair felt like if Scrooge McDuck had a sweets cellar that you got to rifle through. Super decadent and over the top. The type of thing a 4th grader enjoys just before being tossed in an Econoline van.

T: While cold, this beer is pretty tame with some light toffee and aspects of red grape and plums, but when this beer neared room temperature the throttle was torn open and this went NoS foggers pretty quickly. There is a huge aspect of red grape, butterscotch, molasses, caramel, and figs. This is an incredibly complex beer that just lingers and provides a boozy warmth on the finish. All present were amazed that it was 25% alcohol, so if you were an eccentric millionaire, you could play some hilarious pranks on your friends with a few bottles of this.

This beer is strange, unforgettable, and you sure as shit will have a hell of a story to tell if you live through the experience.

M: This is the heaviest, stickiest, most coating I have ever experienced. This is not like Hunaphu’s where you go “wow that’s chewy” and swallow, I mean your teeth are coated in this sticky decadence. They don’t know what to do. It’s like melted caramel that lingers on and on with a boozy warmth. It is incredible and the perfect beer to share for when you finish Skyrim, kiss your first real girl, you know, epic moments.

D: This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but how drinkable do you think that an intensely heavy, 25% abv beer is? You aren’t exactly ordering a pint of this and tossing darts. This is more of the type of beer you watch while watching Millionaire Matchmaker so you can just black out everything you are taking in. I guess you CAN drink a lot of this, if you have the time. This is delicious and could be savored like a delicious brandy or fine bourbon, but most people aren’t drinking 16oz of neat bourbon and playing shuffleboard, at least not outside of Kentucky. I am not here to tell you how to live your life.

Hey bro, try this Belgian Pale Ale, it is 25% abv. Wait wat-

Narrative: Karl Venderberg lumbered slowly through the cafeteria wiping the sweat from his brow, despite the fact that it was a cool 47 degrees outside. “Hey Karl! You big Belgian teddybear!” Kandyss Lamont called to him and gave him a loving hug, attempting to get her arms over the sheets of alabaster folds that were his shoulders. “Herghhh KERNDESSS, I got, you this….flow….flowerrrr” he exhaled roughly and produced a crumpled lilac from his wet pocket. “OH I SAY KARL, you are the sweetest person with a thyroid problem that I HAVE EVER MET!” She kissed the uneven terrain of his skin and he smelled the Dr. Pepper lipgloss and immediately craved a Mr. Pibb. “I do not fucking get it” Chase Marks, local waterpolo all-pro, semi-regional champion quipped, “look at him, he is fat as fuck. I do not buy this Thyroid Problem, look he is eating a sandwich with brownies as bread and dipping it in tartar sauce. WHAT! Come on, now he is giving Kaelynn a mix CD he made?!” Karl wheezed and looked at Kaelynn’s impeccable bilateral bicuspids and azure blue eyes. He was the sweetest, most morbidly obese, most decadent student at Struise High School, and the ladies flocked to him. The thyroid problem was bullshit, but he got mad messages written in dust on his sick ride by the the stacked dimes at SHS.


Sam Adams 1995 Triple Bock, A Beer That Is Older Than Your Girlfriend, Sicko.

Ah finally a beer that is older than your girlfriend. Let’s mix it up a bit with a rare gem from earlier days: Triple Bock. Ok, transport yourself back to 1995 for a moment, you’re listening to Spin Doctors, buying Beyond Baggy Jeans at Millers Outpost- shit is going pretty well right? Well not for craft beer. Unless adjunct lagers got you all half mast, craft beer was not as it is today. This beer was an innovative testament to show the world what beer COULD BE. These days, it is more a testament that COULD does not always mean SHOULD. Let’s hit on this geriatric gem in today’s Elder Abuse review.

This beer is like an ICP fan: strange while young and abhorrent when it matures.

Boston Beer Company (Samuel Adams)
Massachusetts, United States
American Strong Ale | 17.50% ABV

A: This beer comes in a weird little 7.5oz cobalt bottle, but don’t worry, you aren’t getting ripped off, you wont want much more than 2 ounces of this beast. So it pours our like spent canola oil with potato skin burned fragment sludge bobbing gracefully in the wake. This is what Lake Tahoe is gonna look like in the year 2031. There is a murky sludge aspect to it with teenage chunks of malty char chunks suspended in the medium. Spoiler alert: there is no carbonation. This beer looks like bottled felch.

Just keep sipping on these, you’ll be safe because no one will want to hang out with you.

S: The smell is like the tire aisle at Costco. Then you get this deep cigar muskiness from the Golden Age that is like rummaging through old dresses at Good Will. Next comes a putrid wave of Kikoman soy sauce olfactory rape. It is like your nose is doing lines of Dragon Roll. Finally a sickening sweetness like asian candies where you don’t know exactly what it is, but you’re afraid because you’re pretty sure there’s durian or shellfish in there.

T: Oh man, this is where they really slam your cock in a car door. This initially tastes like pencil graphite, burnt gristle, and Skoal dip cup spit. You get a lingering sweetness and a chocolate presence that pushes its hand to the glass but the death sentence is clear. There’s aspects of Lowe’s peat and gardening dirt, pennies, and tonguing an open coldsore that imparts an iron rich maltiness. Finally the oxidation sets in and you get this dryness that tastes like used breakdancer cardboard and Filipino sweat.

Sure, this might not be the best beer I have ever had. That’s a class composed of (every beer I Have ever Had – 1 ) I can deal with that.

M: The mouthfeel slops and sways like the contents of a lava lamp but the solution rides upon a hot layer of booze everywhere it goes. It is like Iceman, how he used to tear ass on that ice bridge, except this bridge is made of composted solids, tar, and the blood of Owlbears. While I was finishing my final refreshing sips, I got a huge chunk of black malt on my tongue, which usually means that an angel just got its wings. I pressed it between my fingers and it looked like I just got booked by LAPD. Which is so appropriate because what apt foreshadowing for a beer that will get you really hammered and make you feel like you just went down on a Cal Trans worker?

D: This beer could not be less drinkable if it were a gas. This plays an important part in beer history but, the sheer importance as an extreme beer does not a good ale make. I am glad to have tried it but it makes me longingly look at the state of today’s beer market with love. One great use for this beer would be to give it to your kids at age 11 and be like “YOU WANT BEER! THIS IS BEER! NOW FINISH THE WHOLE THING AND LOVE IT.” Scare them straight before they turn into a mesomorphic asshole like me.

This beer is barely legal.

Narrative: Walter Murkmire was a regular fixture in the Boston Common. He trudged covered in muck and melted tar and people avoided their gaze if only to avoid thinking how someone became so caked in the dregs of society. “DONT FORGET TO ROTATE THEM TIRES!” he would scream at insouciant pigeons in the early morning with petulant refuse dripping off of cloak. Some Boston fables said that he used to work at the Boston Tire Company and lost it when they took his Z rated patent from him. Now like an urban Lazarus, he found the most fragrant and odious piles to rise from, each day, like a putrid trash phoenix. “1995! The tires toll! Not for you, but for US ALL!” he called menacingly to a disintered hot dog vendor. How was a guy supposed to earn a living with a local Baron haunting the park smelling like burnt hair and indian food? A 17 year old boy looked on across the park and caught his penetrating gaze. Murkmire produced a piece of filthy California Roll and smiled a knowing grin. His lineage was secure in this lad, drawn from the mire in 1995, but the clinic would never admit such a thing.


Sam Adams Utopias, $220 bottle of beer, 27% alcohol by volume, where are my shoes?

Ah, another classic top 100 gem I have got a few requests to review. Well I took this shit to the dangerzone and lived to tell about it. That’s commitment. I drink expensive shit for your amusement. ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?

Hey guize, remember when we dropped $220.00 on a bottle of beer that was 27% alcohol? Me either, what the fuck happened last night?

Sam Adams Utopias, 27% ABV, American Stong Ale

A: This looks like a copper T1000 hateful solution that is thick and viscous but coats the glass like a zerg hive. There’s an amazing brassiness to it, both color and traditional adjective aspects. No head, no lacing, which is apropos for the innuendos as well I suppose. If you dropped $220 on a bottle of beer there’s gonna be no- well you get it.

Watch out, expensive ass, strong beer that no one else will appreciate here.

S: Holy shit, this is like a deep hateful liqueur but I love it. It’s like reduced IHOP pancakes, maple, sweet brown sugar, smokiness, Honduran tears, I get a note of crushed will, but that is subjective. The entire bouquet has a deep heat to it that is pervasive but, its like a butterface, you put up with it for all the other things going on. OH SHIT A MISOGYNISTIC JOKE.

T: This brings the Heat like Miami. It has a deep caramel taste like Werther’s Original Meets Lava: A Romantic Comedy. There’s such a great toffee, then a dryness from the barrel like you are chewing a pencil dipped in bourbon, then it closes with a finale number of pure butterscotch. If this is beer, then I am on board. It’s like that Kurt Russel movie where that girl gets thrown overboard, fuck, what was that called?

I am not sure what it takes to get a beer up to 27% but I am pretty sure uranium barrels are involved.

M: It is sticky like the La Brea tar pits and just scorching. The age did not help and it just dries in a medicinal extreme way but I really like it. I would recommend it to a friend Amazon, since I know you are watching. It coats and just hits every zone and finishes fire hot like a peat whiskey but in a strangely delicious way.

D: Well I guess this all depends on if you are a wealthy 19th century industrialist. Can you afford to just stroll down to the store and drop 2 bills on a bottle of beer? If so, how do you keep your monocle from getting fogged up with all those middle class laymen taking up all your air. So no, this is not drinkable you monster. Why would you seriously need even more than 6oz of this? If you drink 6oz you just drank 4.5 bud lights, take it easy moneybags.

I am not sure what is going on here, but I am pretty sure it is bad ass. My dick doesn't have a face on it though.

Narrative: Sedwick Billingsley looked upon the court with disdain. The entire post-revolutionary society was a bore to him and traveling did little good for his Francophilic soul. Napoleon had conquered and been deposed, he sold arms to both sides and glutted himself on the business of wartime economies, and how here we sat, wealthy beyond belief but yet unapproached by anyone in the Court. His brash tone and palpable awareness of death made him an abrasive character. He constantly smelled of cognac and macaroons and declared hateful truths with ease. Mr. Billingsly was a complete asshole, but everyone sought to eventually seek his affection. He broke the fan of a fair mademoiselle simply due to the fact that he disliked the color lavender. Sure he was rich, unapproachable, and caustic, but deep down there was something that the general populace saw in him. That green light on Daisy’s dock, that anachronism in an unreliable omniscient narrator, those sweet butterscotch kisses. The nephew of Voltaire tipped his hat to Mr. Billingsley and he cast a franc at his chest so hard that it made him taste maple syrup, which was not even available then. Nabokov entered the court and then promptly exited in his time machine.