Category Archives: wild ale

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Odell Saboteur, Someone Straight Sabotaged My Wild Ale

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Odell makes some great gems. Colorado beers at large are on the come up like a Tibetan dice game. Sometimes however, wild ales get a little unruly and you gotta bring in the sour stick to get them back under control. Let’s see what exactly is Sabotaged in today’s review.

This pic be ode. No pour photos, fire up that imagination.

Odell Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
American Wild Ale | 10.00% ABV

A: The appearnce comes off as a brown muddiness with light lacing and some ruby tones at the edges. This is a strange base for a wild ale but it looks good, all things considered. I am always wary of dark sours because sometimes the complexity makes it trip over its own bacterial shoelaces, but this one looks pretty legit so far.

It’s like Consecration, but not. Like Rodenbach, but er…something is a bit amiss here.

S: There is a weird hybrid smell to this beer. You get two different worlds colliding at once. The first smell wafts of cherry, dark fruits similar to a quad, and some acidity. The second part is similar to almond with hazelnut and toffee. The smell is simply too busy to figure out what is going on for my feeble mind and nose. It’s like when someone puts on Godspeed You Black Emperor and nods approvingly, expecting you to love it at first blush.

T: There is a mild sourness at the outset that isn’t overly puckering. There is some smokiness but overall it doesn’t overpower or assert itself. It feels like it got pushed into a locker a Sour High School. It is mild mannered and enjoyable, if not forgetable. Again, the whole litany of things going on here makes it tough to pin down for either deficiency or innovation. You remember that dude in Mary Poppins who played all the instruments at once in the park? This beer is kinda like that, his music might suck, but what an undertaking.

This beer is interesting, but not exactly a Nightmare.

M: This isn’t overly drying but it isn’t exactly savory either. It is silky smooth but it also has some spikes and brambles to it as well. It reminds me of Rodenbach Grand Cru, but with a goatee and an eye patch. Just slightly different. It is the nuances that makes all the difference between Friends with Benefits and No Strings Attached.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and I wish that I had more of it, however, the availability and types of things I would have to give up to land this beer again make it less desirable. I could drink this beer all day, and not simply because it is my favorite style. Its complete failure to assert itself is a winning trait that makes it more likeable. Everyone needs a whipping sour you can beat up from time to time. It seems to have only Sabotaged its own chances to making it a truly memorable beer, and those Thundercat episodes aren’t gonna watch themselves.

I am not recommending death, but I would certainly say a solid 25 to life would benefit this wayward wild ale.

Narrative: The flashlight clanked and banged down 34 stories of the central air duct, setting off several alarms. Agent 301x wasn’t the best Saboteur that the Covenant had, but he was the only one currently available. 301x forgot his gloves at home and instead fashioned crude plastic mittens from discarded grocery bags. “I THROW MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR SOME TIMES SINGING AYYY OHHH” his cell phone began to clamor and resound echoing through the halls. He was memorable in his faults and impressive in his victories. The soles of his nonstick shoes squeaked loudly through the halls alerting everyone nearby of his presence. “ACHOOO!” he sneezed and accented the final noise so loudly that a janitor looked at his conspicuous face. “You again? God damnit, agent 301x, you forgot your keys again?” the janitor let him back into his own office; and the grand heist was complete.

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Avery Brewing Oud Floris, For those times When Yung Floris Just Will Not Do

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What can I say about Avery that hasn’t been said before by myself and then retweeted and reposted, to myself and then forwarded as a PDF to Avery marketing? For those who care and are keeping score, from Avery’s sour program we have received 4 amazing sours and a single misfire. I will let you examine the wicks to determine which one that was, but let’s look at this geriatric flower in today’s review.

I knew a Floris once, she worked at a diner and, in the words of the inimitable Soulja Boi, she “ode.”

Avery Brewing Company
Colorado, United States

Style | ABV
Flanders Oud Bruin | 9.39% ABV

Alright enough of that “oud” joke, here’s the stats on this 237 case release (.rar.)

67% aged in Cab Sauv Barrels
17% aged in Bourbon Barrels
8% aged in Rum Barrels
8% aged in Chardonnay Barrels

You got that mathematicians? Alright, let’s get down to business.

A: This is dark, for a brown sour and even in the realm of the Oud Bruin, this has a deep murky pallor that hates me from the get go, the glass can barely attend to the billowing carbonation and sour genie that I just released. My first wish with ironic consequences is for a strong olfactory profile.

This beer is bad ass in a manner beyond my palate’s comprehension. Unleash the barrel Kraken.

S: Well wish fucking granted. This is granny smith apple tart with acidity that leaps up to your corneas and starts drying with tiny ph1 ice picks. There’s a tart caramel note, red grapes, sour molasses, and strange sweet tobacco smell to it. This is like if Consecration was mutated in a lab with Supplication and we got this Tyrant hybrid, a boss you totally did not level your character enough to face.

T: Wow, this is com-plex unlike a certain magazine by the same monicre. You get a strangely sweet nuttiness at the inception with a deep cranberry infused with merlot grapes. Don’t worry, this is not wine, I won’t flame Avery a second time for treading that ground. This is unmistakeably beer, and very good beer at that. If you have ever wanted your Rodenbach with more balls but Abbey St. Bon Chien is a bit weird to you, then this hybrid addresses your concerns amiably. I must say, as this warms, the astringency becomes more and more apparent, but unlike that complete failure Allagash Vagabond, this beer nails it without going to a fusel nail polish remover route.

brown ale, wine, rum, red grapes…I…I dont know what’s going on guize.

M: The mouthfeel almost hurts. The tartness is like eating a ton of movie candy, but you cannot stop popping in Skittles. The mouthfeel dries like the first time I tasted Temptation but in retrospect, this thing socks plenty of other wild ales in the face and sets to excoriating the first layer of the inside of my mouth like I just got a vintage can of Surge.

D: This is a great beer, complex, but seriously fuck you if you think you can power through several of these in a night. As usual, I drank the entire bottle to myself and that was plenty. It wasn’t that it was necessarily bad, but I felt like small birds could house themselves in the deep holes in my teeth after having this. Cankersores aren’t what most people set out to obtain but it’s certainly a possibility with something this acidity and complex at the same time. How about I use the throwaway word “complex” again. Shadow “complex” is an excellent Xbox Live game. There you go.

“Hey guys I got this little 12oz bottle from Colorado, I think it is sou-“

Narrative: The six heads of the synthetic beast fell to the lab floor with complete exhaustion. Test C734052 had been completed and it was apparent that this entity was capable of learning patterns. “Psshhifffsss” one tail that appeared to be a ream of grapes hissed at the lab monitor, busrting acidic juice on the walls. “Sir, do you feel we have tested the limits of what Napa barrels are capable of? I mean, this just feels like an abuse of our science grant,” Walmsly pleaded pointing at sciencey things on an oversized notepad. “GOD DAMNIT WALMSLY, I will tell you when our barrel experiments have gone too far, WHEN THE UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO BOULDER TELLS US SO-” Professor Vinos exclaimed with terse anger. It was his pet project, technically he was hired to teach viticulturist majors the ropes, but this flailing anomalous being was his chef-d’oeuvre. Who would suspect while the Buffalos were losing game after game in the Pac 12, his lab was pumping deep underground with new acidic life.

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Lost Abbey Duck Duck Gooze, This Amazing Beer Puts Me in the Mush Pot

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Whale week chugs along with another gem from years past that we consistently see people offering trifling recent releases trying to land, the inimitable DDGeezy. I will say this is one of, if not the absolute best American Wild Ale that I have ever had. I want to white Nike and bamboo up this boo, introduce it to G4 pilots on a first name basis, you know, nice shit. Well let’s see if we can taste the duck adjunct in this gooze:

You might not recognize this beer when given a real pour and not a janky 2oz splash, use your imagination.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: Get out your stunner shades, this beer is radioactive bright with radiance highlighter yellow hues blasting in your corneas. There is a slight wheat base that is murky but supports an eggshell wispy head that crackles away like an acid phantom with not a single fuck to give. This is beautiful and strikes like the Care Bear stare straight in your pupils.

This is an old beer that has always been a bitch to wrangle. Oh well, raters gonna rate.

S: Get your hazmat suit, this initially lets you know that the lemon zest is here to burn down your nostrils in effigy and the ripe granny smith apple tones are not unlike Jolly Ranchers. There’s obviously an oaky dryness with deep white grape and lightly used running sock muskiness. The duck notes come through strong in the funk and Scrooge McDuck remains adjusting his vestigial spectacles.

T: Get your Sensodyne toothpaste, your teeth will hurt after this citron bomb goes off. This isn’t incredibly complex due to the hot acid slugs being popped off from the P90, but it is too damn balanced not to love. You get tart apricot, lemon, sweet ruby red grapefruit, and tiny unripe apples picked before their time. The funk has a nice wheat backing to it to suture the open wounds the acids just created.

To most beer nerds, this is the God of all American Wild Ales. I can’t help but pay homage accordingly.

M: This is incredibly dry and makes Chardonnays look like a gatorade by contrast. The oak works with the funk and bugs to give you that pale white tongue with cankersores inevitably following. That being said, it is amazing to sip and taste the liquid roll over each zone as it imparts sweet and sour in the same breath. It is thin but carries a ton like a fireant, stinging all the way back.

D: This is astringent, tart, raw, and uncut but it is still fun to take shit to the danger zone and come back for more after each drink. I would be a bholdface liar if I said I didn’t crave this gem from time to time but, given the fact that the new batch wont be out until Summer 2013 at the earliest, the desire pangs are substantial. Worth the hype, worth pushing the envelope to lock down.

WHAT I IF TOLD YOU, you should seek out this rare sour gem? Go forth, and get your cellar raped.

Narrative: Derby Duck wasn’t your average Merganser duck. To begin with, his birth was a melange of cloacas between his mother and a 1 year old 2 year old and 3 year old father ducks. He was subsequently abandoned after he hatched. The other hatchlings couldn’t stand to be near him on account that he would sweat Propionic acid through his ducts. The trail in the Woodson Pond glowed irradiated with his acidic droppings. Even top tier predators would not harass Derby, believing that he must contain predator blood. The only other companion that he would muster was a bullfrog, Tungtung, born with gustatory problems. The two of them would take their bitter souls and ruminate about other animals lack of taste and make themselves elusive in the animal world. Tungtung had no tastebuds and chewed anise roots regularly shrugging off the rest of the disapproving world. Derby’s moment to shine came one fateful day when one of his duckling brothers was snatched by a rogue fox hiding in the whippoorwills. Derby fired a scorching hot stream of ph1 discharge right into the fox’s nostrils, severely burning his nasal ducts and freeing his unappreciative sibling. Life wasn’t easy being a sour motherducker.

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Re-up the flows

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Alright I have been slacking, I will pump out some hot new yeastbeats soon, in the interim peep out what I have been sippin on lately, don’t worry, unlike Judy Winslow in season 3 of Family Matters, I won’t abruptly disappear.

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Barrel aged partridge with the Louis Vuitton belt buckle when it is keeping all the heat strapped.

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Bourbon barrel hunaphu, for when you want that cinnamon ancho to rock some BALs.

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Hill Farmstead Norma, next level lactic maneuver.

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Stone QM Virgin Oak El Camino Unreal, No peppercorn stems no fig seeds no sticks. Put your BALs on the 78 freeway for an Unreal experience.

Enough beer porn, reviews will be back soon, cancel that Welbutrin prescription and flip that to some Valtrex instead because DDB is about to make it nasty.

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Lost Abbey Cable Car, Ring a Ding Ding, The San (Diego) Francisco Treat.

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What else can we way about this amazing sour that hasn’t been etched in the stalls of homosexual nightclubs already? This is an amazing beer. I have only had this beer three times and each time I nodded contemplatively at spending a pretty penny to try it, not even mad tho. This beer sweeps the leg and makes me want another, not unlike giving a mouse a cookie, he is going to want a vert.

This beer is only for sale at Torona- WAIT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?

Lost Abbey, Cable Car, 7.0% wild ale

Oh wait, let’s not forget about the Cable Car Kriek, not even fucking around on this review:

Take an amazing sour and then take it to the kriekzone. Feeling like a cherry popping daddy.

A: Light pilsner color, mellow gold, a refined golden ambiance. The kriek technically deserves its own review but I will just ad lib this shit, the kriek has a bright radiant hue like cherry afterbirth. Amazing beers on both aspects.

GOD DAMNIT I need moar of this beer. You must understand my frustration.

S: Strong sour geuze smell, crushed sweettarts and a melted fruitloops wafting. There is a mild funk of wet hay and a deep crisp granny smith apple note going on that is super cutty.

T: This beer is intimidating at first, strong smells and notes, but ultimately this is a calf that you can wrangle without oppression. It is akin to mutton busting, something that seems difficult until you tackle the sheep, and pull its majestic fur to the ground. At its core, it is temptation with milder souring, lighter drying effects, less tanins in the grape aftertaste, and finally champagne crisp apple notes in the finish. Nothing you can’t handle but an exceptional balance. It is the lovechild of gueuze and champagnes of the mild brut variety. I love the dryness even if it slows me from enjoying the white grape and fuji apple notes.

This beer is unique, yet respectable, strange, yet friendly.

M: Fantastic, crisp and light, the entire experience has lemon zest and feels like a Hootie and the Blowfish Album. You can dispense this pellmell and no one will look askance. If not for the oppressive Toronado’s standards, this could be something everyone could enjoy, if not for proprietary despotism. This is well worth bootlegging, well worth epic trades. Just really good, but if you want to tread this road, there are more refined paths as smoothe as marble for your wanting cart, should you not have epic cellar gems to take down this beast.

D: Again, fantastic but competing in a league of legends. I would drink this all day, fixing my carburetor, prepartying for the charity gala, snuff film exposition, you know, guy stuff. I find myself in a love hate resolution with this beer because I love what it is but I hate the air surrounding it. It feels like seeing a person with a TOOL shirt on. you love the syncopated rhythms and complex melodies, but you dislike the fanbase in general. The faux highbrow ruins what would be a fantastic experience.

I need more of this sour gem, I cannot stop thrusting.

Narrative: Sir Fredrick Willingsly is repossessing your car. You can’t hate him for doing his job, but, without a 1998 civic DX, these pizzas arent going to deliver themselves. You hate him, with his cliche antagonistic handlebar moustache and fogged up monocle. However, his wry quips relating to Howards’ End and class struggle made it all the sweeter. “And thence upon from which one has had, none shall take without” he declares with a cloud of aplomb that almost makes you lighthearted in his usurpation of your chief economic asset. He is akin to the Mr. peanut of recurring vengeance. your pocket despises him, yet you respect him for his casuistic enforcement of the law. “God speed Willingsly, dont scratch my sick mugen exhaust on the dip. Godspeed.”

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Reinaert Flemish Wild Ale, Almost As Wild As Oscar Wilde, But Not Nearly As Sassy

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Time to start dredging the old reviews to see what the world used to be like when even a trip to the corner store was an exciting adventure before I was a Fedex dependent asshole. Anyway, let’s see what is shaking with today’s wild ale, a spicy lil belgian gem that is pretty widely available.

Wanna know what it looks like out of the bottle? Too bad, old me didn’t have that kinda foresight.

De Proefbrouwerij (bvba Andelot)
Belgium
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 9.00% ABV

A: very light color, pilsner almost, golden to dark yellow, nice three finger head with moderate lacing, little crackling to it like when Johhny Five gets hit by lightning and is imbued with a sassy new life.

Hipster bunny approves of wild ales of all styles even HOPPY wild ales.

S: This has citrus, sour grapes, a lemon zest to it and a kiwi undertone. There’s a bit of fall and DMV musk to it, but overall, a pretty tame affair as far as “wild” ales go.

T: This wild is very mellow on the palate, imparts a sweetness similar to most belgian goldens with that biscuity maltiness, pillowy soft sweet finish, not exactly comparable to the American wild ale type, but still very well done, the sourness of the Bretanomyces is very restrained, the sour undertones come near the end and are almost hand in hand with the light hops. The untrained palate would almost mistake this for a more malty pilsner. I guess if you feel like a light challenge this is where to go. Then you don’t get the shit beat out of your mouth like playing Battletoads on single player.

I am not saying that wild ales should destroy your mouth but… aliens.


M: This has good coating for its light appearance, it takes a few seconds to absolve the taste, but then there’s some good coating and lingering aftertaste of mellow hops. I can polish my monocle and enjoy this lazily by the Seine river, or in Alabama, either way.

D: Overall, very drinkable, not exceptionally noteworthy, and rather cost prohibitive for the average wild ale consumer. For the same price you could drink damnations all day which I feel is superior in almost every category, alas that is comparing different classes of beers. One thing I will note is the exceptional covering of the 9% alcohol, it is imperceptibly hidden in a sweetness and the floury maltiness. Perfect for entry level beer drinkers with ABV interests. ABV-curious if you will.

My face when wild ales don’t bring the sour rage.

Narrative: “nah nah, just a couple days” he lazily smiled, “just until I get my things together.” How could you say no? He was such a close friend in high school, sweet, cloying, palpable, but now he’s dominating 2/3rds of your living room as his capricious abode. “See the plan is, I am getting my pilots licens-” you start to dreamily daze off while looking into his eyes, there’s something empty to him, yet intoxicating at the same time, “yeah so basically after I fought that guy I was out of Cici’s pizza and it was a shithole anyway” he continues. Why are you letting him stay here? there’s nothing exceptional about him but you just incurred signifcant expenses making him a nice dinner, it, wow his eyes look like poolwater, just a sweet discountenance that lures you in. “OH SHIT NETFLIX! ABOUT TO ADD SOME TITES! Thats what I call titles” ok at this point he’s getting a bit irritating, but the way his bicuspids fortuitously lean against his incisors, that smile, he could leave his ASICS gym bag on your Z Gallerie coffee table all week. “Sure..sure..” you meekly reply, knowing that this short stay will be fulfilling, yet deceptive.

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Johnathon Wakefield Fruit Berliner MASHUPS, For Beer Drinkers with Scurvy and Dental Insurance

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Alright so let me see if I have my facts straight here, renegade brewer Johnathon Wakefield from Florida has been cooking up crazy new sours/Berliners/wilds for some time now. Cigar City had him come on as a hired gun to make Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner for Hunahpu Day and people’s jimmies were rustled so hard. Anyway, I have 4 of his fruited berliners for todays mega-mashup review, FOUR TIMES THE REVIEW FOR YOUR ZERO DOLLAR INVESTMENT.

Well let’s start this off with the titleholder for Ratebeer #1 Berlinerweiss, Dragon Fruit Passion Fruit Berliner

DFPF, hot sticky sour action, NSFW, 18+ only.

Just look at that beer, god damn. It looks like someone at the Juicy Juice factory decided that toddlers needed to sip on some purple drank. This wheat beer has some serious purple hues, majestic magenta, and radiant pink hues at the edges. The smell is like a bag of tropical jolly ranchers, all the obscure fruits kids know only in sucrose and high fructose corn syrup form: guava, mango, passion fruit, durian. The taste is sharp with a high and tight acidity that hits my bicuspids first and starts tearing shit up like a meth addict on Christmas morning in a tropical rehabilitation facility. There’s notes of tropical starburst, Welch’s grape/passion fruit blends, and things girls order when white sand beaches are within a 5 mile radius.

When I poured this out of the growler and saw girly purple drank, I was like-

Verdict: Probably the second best berliner that I have ever tasted, which bring me to MIAMI MADNESSSSSS

The original name for this was Cleveland Madness, but that beer was bitter, full of depressing riverwater, and unemployment.

This beer finally addresses that old conflict I always seem to be running into: drink juice or beer for breakfast? Well, now you get the best of both worlds, seriously, there is so much juice and fruit exploding from this beer I hesitate to state that it is technically “on style” but Funky Buddha’s berliners weren’t on style either but god damn are these beers delicious. The smell has a shipwrecked aspect to it of apricot, huge pineapple, and not in an alpha acid hop way, I mean like acidic juice in your eyes pineapple. The waft continues with some tangelo and a brackish aspect to it that somehow works in this beer. The taste reminds me of an ultra classy greyhound or top shelf jungle juice with huge citrus and tropical acidity like a mai tai. I can’t stress this enough, the fruit is overwhelming and casts a lunar eclipse over the wheat base beer toiling below like a Morlock. The finish has a thick coating of juicy pulpiness.

Juicey acidity, tropical fruits, and a german weissbier? I don’t even know what this site is about anymore.

I love this beer, despite the overload of nutrition presented, but then A NEW CHALLENGER APPEARS-

In collaboration with Jamba Juice, the chunkiest wheat beer this side of Nordstrom Rack.

Holy chunkadunk. This beer has coating in a realm usually reserved for Abyss, but in an entirely different manner: STRAWBERRY RHUBARB. Part of rhubarb will kill you if you eat the wrong part. First we get juice, now straight up vegetables on this site? I know, this isn’t a Jillian Michaels crossfit nutrition guilt trip, just a chunky thick berliner to sip on while you shop for size 42 jeans online. The smell is straight up strawberry, tart jolly rancher, red skittles, and a light raspberry. The taste flips the shit switch and goes into a strawberry voltron that packs a light milky lactose aspect, yogurt, and jamba juice vitamin C boost. Again, the fruit just serves as overlord to the wheat aspect of this beer. SPAWN MORE OVERLORDS.

Four amazing Berliners in one night? Damn, I gotta prep for this one.

So we have seen the tropics, jamba juice, and the inside of an alcoholic crossfit studio, now we wander to latin america and taste some sticky watermelon sex-

Holy murky Prussian mouthgasms. Not sure if this is the dregs of a Cuban fruit cart or a tart treat from Florida: TRICK QUESTION THOSE ARE THE SAME THING.

MORAL IMPERATIVE WATERMELON BERLINER.

Well, this may not be the prettiest beer in the world, but I am sure saltwater aquarium enthusiasts will be on board for this one. The murky nature just lets me know what this berliner is hiding underneathe, like those M.A.S.K. toys where a boring ass gas station turns into a battle station, this beer mobilizes for war like El Salvador. The smell is water watermelon pulp, O BANG, Mexican restaurant refreshments, light vegetal aspect, white seeds, and a sharp acidity on the back end. The taste follows the nose like Toucan Sam and takes you to a seedy burrito spot in the Mission almost instantly. The pulp and murkiness just serves as a vessel to the D-Day fruit war that is your back palate, the heavy artillery shells with sour bombs on the bitter zones throughout and several fruity purple hearts are awarded to all. YOU MADE IT SOLDIER. The vegetal aspect is the only “authentic” aspect I have a real complain with, the white rind seems out of place but adds authenticity to the brew. “Tell…tell my mom I died honorably, not juicing watermelons for an esoteric ::COUGH::: weisssss-”

This was my least favorite of the four, but it was still pretty cool, Mr. Heisenberg.

So there you have it, all four done in one review, and NO ONE SAID IT COULDN’T NOT BE DONE! And let me allay your concerns, no narrative today you greedy cocks, I can’t assemble these four beers into a fruit Voltron to- wait…that’s a brilliant premise. Maybe with the next Wakefield series you can see the chilling conclusion of what happens to Fruitron: Protector of Dade County.

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Lost Abbey Veritas 007, Secret Agent Wild Ale, Busting Tart Spy Missions All Up in your Face

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I feel like I have been wrestling with Lost Abbey lately and constantly looking in my rearview mirror, but one thing that I know is, aside from Duck Duck Gooze, this is probably my favorite sour that they have ever made and, spoiler alert, it is damn good. If landing this beer wasn’t such a kick in the taint, I would seek it out all the time. Let’s get this sourgasm going on today’s review.

Again, I forget if this is V009 or V007, you dont care, just close that Brazzers tab for a second and pay attention.

Veritas 007, Lost Abbey
American Wild Ale, 7% abv

A: This beer has a radiant glow to it and makes me suspect that Witches Wit or some golden was the base beer but, absent some searching on Alta Vista or AOL, the world may never know. Pathetic crackly carobnation and non-commital lacing make this beer ineligible for Jdate. Not sure where the tremblant red colors came from but, hey, belly up to the bar non-standard coloring, even a crazy off pink hue is welcome in these parts.

I can only assume that this beer will get more bad ass over time. If that is even possible.

S: This has that funky Jolly Pumpkin signature wet bandaids with sobbed upon cardboard smell to it. Sure there’s wheat and a tart finish but the trials of a broken breakdancer are the soul of the enterprise. Also, cherries and that aggressive raspberry that ruins everyone’s game and takes over shit rapaciously.

T: This has an incredibly expansive character with cherry and raspberry at the forefront. It mellow a bit, I was told but that is like saying that the kid with ADD is doing a little bit less shitty at math. This is still incredibly tart like a cider rampage but with more dryness. Somehow, skittles got invited to this bruja and decided that archetypical tart fruits would follow up the swallow. This is orgasm in a cup for a 6 year old palate. That, no I mean, it is what a 6 year old would really enjo-, shit nevermind, next category.

This beer is bizarre yet strangely refined.

M: This is super drying and light but refreshing. It would be more refreshing if I wasn’t so stressed out about drinking it at all. I can’t fault it for its existence. Sometime when I drink a rare beer, that comes through consciously and I am aware of it, denaturing the experience. I once drank ISO:FT and loved it, and then when someone told me what it was I bemoaned my fast gulps and distention to detail. This is a fantastic beer and the mouthfeel just served a self-destructive function. It was gone so quickly, said the Lotto winner, sobbing into a 4 seated jet ski.

D: See supra, this is beyond drinkable and, if I didn’t lack the temerity to seek this out, I would do so. Someone give me another bottle and I will write them a short story, just for a chance to indulge on this epic treat again. It is within the ambit of the best 10 sours that I have ever tried. It is like in Cold Mountain where Nicole Kidman falls in love with Jude Law after only giving him lemonade like once, WHAT? I didn’t even see that movie, I MEANT THE BEER WAS PRETTY LEGIT. That’s all.

Great in the morning, great as a nightcap, doesn’t matter, this beer is amazing, when Veritas is on a bagel you can drink V007 any time.

Narrative: The structure of Horatio Alger works and rom-coms had led poor Devin Terpin to believe that it was possible to transcend class structure immediately, if love and a 90 minute resolution was involved. “Repeat again Devin, ’And henceforth, the mandate shall remain tattered dicta’” instructed Ethyl Balmington, his social correctional instructor. “Hens for, this man-date is a tatted dick.” Devin stumbled out warily. Ms. Balmington shook her head reproachfully. “Devin, if you ever hope to attend this Laguna Nigel wedding, you need to work on your diction and content.” Devin sighed and kicked a patch of wild raspberries before him. “Wait, Devin, what is that?” he glanced down and the plant seemed to pulse at his distinctive Riverside dialect. “THIS STRAIN OF FLORA, it is highly combustible with your 909 prototype upbringing!” Ms. Balmington an experienced amateur florist snatched his Metal Mulisha bandana and ground some tart berries into a fine paste. “Now swallow this.” “OBVI!” Devin cried out and made his fraternal sign and downed the berries not unlike the sickest bro. These will take effect in approximately 90 minutes, and all of your romantic problems will be solved. “That sounds like the reprieve of some petulant candor, to say the least!” Devin retorted, astonished. His lifted Silverado changed into a Pumpkin Carriage, then it was on some sick twanky deuces, then it was a bagged pumpkin carriage, which, was pretty cutty irrespective of circumstance. A mere 90 minutes had passed and Devin joked with a pun based upon a portmanteau of Portugese and conversational Greek to one of the guests. “WELL I NEVER!” she cried out while polishing her monocle. “AND I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE!” the reverend shouted and credits began to roll, over the expanse of the life of the sickest bro. The berries were poisonous.

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Russian River Beatification, Just Settling in for a Nice Beat Sesh.

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I have been seeking this beer for a long, long time. Last December, Russian River released a mere 250 bottles, and I thought all was lost, what with the cellarrape that entailed landing a Batch 3 of this beast. Anyway, here we are 12,000 bottles later and I have to give a major thanks to my buddy Baldo for making the drive and snagging this for me. One more tick off the top 100, boom roasted.

Let the Beat drop.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 5.50% ABV

A: This beer has that amazing radiant glow to it that I haven’t seen since Ithaca Brute was all up in the mix. It reminds me of when Vincent Vega opens up the briefcase. We happy. The lacing is minimal and lets you know of the aching acidity that lurks beneathe. The legs trickle up like those bubble coin games that they used to have at Taco Bell that were impossible to win. I was fat as a kid. now.

After about a year of searching, I finally got my hands on this gem. Happy beatday to me.

S: When it is cold you get a lot of the acidity, the wet hay, and the more musky elements. It reminds me of a halfway house somewhere in between Cantillon Classic and Fou Foune. The fruit is apricot, pineapple, nectarines, and kumquats, but it doesn’t go as far as a fruited lambic, it has its own hybrid style like the Blake Griffin of the wild ale world, slam dunking the fuck out of imitators.

T: This beer has two sides to it, when it is cold, it is just acid and mild funk, none of the awesome fruits or rad complexity. When it warms up, shit starts to get real and you get more of the lemon and grapefruit tartness that starts dry fucking your gumline like the dudes in that Next video “Too Close.” This beer can tell you like it. While this isn’t a “skin” or a tannin, it reminds me of a tart strawberry that you get if you buy them super early from a roadside vendor and its both tart and drying due to the lack of sugars. That’s what it is like ok, just like that.

There are some seriously oblivious people out there who cannot appreciate this gem. Or Spac.

M: This hurts my lips, tum tum, and gumline but I put up with its punishment in the way that a 16 year old guy will put up with a completely apeshit girlfriend: the implicit benefits far outweigh the acrimonious exchange. The crackly acidity is in line with that feeling you get when you try to merk an entire box of Sour Patch Kids to yourself at a movie. You are strangely content but it does a number on your insideface.

D: This is a great wild ale but, admittedly, not my favorite sour of all time. It is unquestionably the best beer that I have had from Russian River but I still prefer Duck Duck Gooze and Veritas 007 to this, which is really picking the fly shit out of the pepper when it comes to that level, but you know what I am saying. This is exceptional, but not the absolute best/pinnacle of the genre. I can only hope that this comes out more often than once every three years because I dont want to have to ration one bottle every 6 months. Life can be challenging, you know?

This isn't the most expensive beer in the world, but you should probably own Marvin Gardens or Pacific Avenue before seeking this shit out.

Narrative: “Alright Devin, please continue, what happened after Mitch deactivated the pressure cylinder on the mixing vat?” Mitch leaned back in his chair and nodded knowingly about the sickest practical joke ever. “Well, I went to clean the vats so that the next batch of Atomic Warheads wouldn’t have an off flavor and, just as I was climbing in the vat Mitch yells-” “APRIL FOOLS MOTHERPUCKER!” “Ok Mitch, let Devin give his statement, this is serious.” Devin was still shivering, hair whitened and his modest clothes eaten through with patchy holes where the acid had eaten through. “It just burned my nose, finger nail beds and I was screaming, God it was so sour but my tear ducts were so dry and I couldn’t cry out.” Mitch nodded with a self-content smile “and then I was like, ‘DONT BE SUCH A SOUR PUSS!’ and he was all like being like ‘ah help mannn’ couldn’t even take the sour.” Devin’s eurethra was badly burned in the practical joke and it pained him badly to urinate. Mitch however, did receive a 3 day suspension and was transferred to the spicy section of the factory, where he assured Corporate that no “hot shit would go down.”

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Cantillon St. Lamvinus, One Hell of a Lambic, God Dambic.

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People go loony for loonz. Cantillon is a hot button for beer nerds and European kids alike. A few of these bottles made it to the U.S. but if this was ever on a shelf in California, that shelf would only be found in the store manager’s house. So yeah, this beer is amazing and a complete pain in the ass to acquire. What else is new.

Dorothy Lamvinus was a saint.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 6.00% ABV

A: Nice ruby huge to a light magenta. It has micro bubbles with wispy lacing. It looks like a majestic wine cooler. If bartels and james won the lottery and went all high brow, this would be the result. Actually, if anyone won the lottery I would expect plenty of this all up in their house. This is about the closest that I get to wine, which is not very.

S: Huge tart notes with great strawberry, cherries, sour currants, and bitter grapes. Granny smith apple skins are there as well. This smells incredible. There’s that classic Cantillon musk, laundry hamper, Audi leather on a rainy day.

I cannot chill when loonz are involved. I need more, perpetually.

T: It has a crisp raspberry tartness that mellows into a smooth sweetness like a melted fruit rollup. It has a sour finish to it that imparts an incredibly refreshing dryness. This is one of the best Cantillon that I have had to date and it is one of the best Lambics that I have ever had. The vintage helped mellow it incredibly, even if it was only 2 years. The fruits interplay with the tart notes perfectly.

A little taste of Belgium, this beer is straight up showing me the world without Vanessa Williams.

M: It is incredibly light and juicy with minimal coating and chardonnay dryness that just stings and crackles in a fantastic way. The carbonation is like an army of diligent effervesence that makes sure the bitter notes are imparted with incredible efficacy. Again, just amazing balance all around. These reviews are hard to write and interject any levity because I am usually all half chub off the grapes and muskiness so I can’t focus on ways to talk shit on it. Serious problems.

D: This makes Consecration look like an imperial stout and Lindeman’s look like candy syrup. It is leagues above all other sours and lambics that I am familiar with. I could drink this in a boat, with a goat, green eggs and ham; etc. You could drink this with any food, at any location and it would be well suited. I feel that this could give white and red wine equal competition with pairings because it is so original and dynamic. I can’t imagine how blaeber could improve on this model but I am anxious to try [editors note, I tried Blabaer since I tried this and, it does improve on that model, not by a landslide but, blabbies gonna blab.]

Damn, grapes and musk, this loon can have all my digletts.

Narrative: Vitus Tanneen had been in some sticky jams before but this time, this time certainly was noteworthy. The walls of the trash compactor closed slowly, pressing the wine refuse closer into the chamber. The aluminum walls reeked of sweet grape skins and sticky notes. If not for the impending death, this would be an almost pleasant situation. “Well Sir Knuckles, looks like we are in a PRESSING SITUATION!” His friendly companion, Sir Knuckles, was an astute howler monkey with no penchant for puns. “WREE EE EE EEEK!” Sir Knuckles gestured imposingly to a hatch covered in sticky grape residue. “Well Sir Knuckles, this is one top that I have no hesitation to pop.” Using a wine opener, Vitus deftly unsealed the hatch and emerged into the bay area sunshine. “NOT TODAY KENDAL JACKSON! NOT TODAY!” He spun and his velvet tails swung after this athletic frame with the poise of a man, a man almost killed by grapes.