4

Peg’s Cantina RareR D.O.S., The Extra R Stands for “Rape”

|

Before my sweaty virgin contingency of readers get all upset, I know rape jokes are not funny, I know the R stands for “rum”, but go ahead and try to land this in the trade forums: forced intercourse. 300ish growlers (500ml small penis swingtops) and 3 per person. At least it was better than the previous run of 25 whopping growlers, but hey, it is a top 100 beer so tickers gotta tick, flipping bricks, crushing up raw. If you are some uninitiated dry vagina who stumbled into this site and somehow read the Rare DOS review then get on your pimping and come back when you are good and ready.

Ironically, the regular rad Rare Dos was more RarerereR

Ironically, the regular rad Rare Dos was more RarerereR

A: I guess leaving the home state of Florida was a lackluster affair for this lil growler because it shows up with little fanfare and lazily spills an Exxon black out of the bottle, a nice Huna sheen to it, with a lil bit of cafe au lait pencil lead thin foam on top. It isn’t dirty, but it isn’t exactly clean either, kinda like the Vegas Strip at 4am.

Slaying top 100 walez, not learning foreign languages, not meeting interesting people. Living that beer dream.

Slaying top 100 walez, not learning foreign languages, not meeting interesting people. Living that beer dream.

S: This doesnt present that odd Rum aspect that other treatments had me accustomed to. This almost comes across as an entirely bourbon affair, you get mallow foam, coconut, a light caramel aspect on that Calvados tip, and a bit of that Sugar in the Raw that you never fucking use at coffee shops. There is a light chocolate and cocoa but those are cast as Inmate #3, supporting in the background, adding authenticity.

T: This has that same phenomenal balance of booze, chocolate, hershey’s syrup, slight roast but more sweetness from the rum notes. Again, if you are accustomed to the Rum Huna land, you will be confused as fuck when you enter this realm because it seriously is more like an amped up Czar Jack than some rummy endeavor. In classic top 100 form, I can’t really think of a direct analog to this because it really stands on its own with the residual sugars and novel pirate swagger (Carribean not Ethiopean.)

Pop that tiny growler, put on John Carpenter's The Thing, and cool the fuck out.

Pop that tiny growler, put on John Carpenter’s The Thing, and cool the fuck out.

M: This is stickier than something like say, Parabola, but doesn’t toe that Huna/Abyss line where you have to move that sticky black palm from your inner thigh, ruining the second half of Pearl Harbor for you. There is sheeting but then the residual sugars are kept in line by the Hueguenot force of clear alcohol, which honestly makes me wonder if this was more in the 13% realm. I ain’t to kinda WINE ASSHOLE, so who am I to say. Cabernets and shit.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, if you happen to be some kinda of shipping magnate who can scoop up limited growler releases on the reg, lighting your cigars with Action Comics #1. If that is you, sure go ahead and drink away. For the rest of us, coal faced masses, pushing our gaunt faces to the window of Peg’s Cantina, hungering for that panegyric that will lighten our ticking hearts, we probably wont have this that often. Usually at this point, some bitter needledick chimes in about how good beer isn’t rare and how they are super stoked on their offshelf offerings, that’s fine, go drink your Storm King or whateverthefuck, let the real men discuss beer.

The average beer nerd will probably never try this in real life, but hey, beer nerds can always dream.

The average beer nerd will probably never try this in real life, but hey, beer nerds can always dream.

Narrative: They told me I could never do it, what with my having type II diabetes and bustling waistline, they just readily assume that I wouldn’t be a decent chimney sweep? That’s where they underestimated old Michael Jarvis, they didn’t know that I was born with superperceptive inner ear membranes that provide me with expcetional poise and balance. I can caress the roofline and tiles with fleeting agility as I pieroette and gracefully balance upon the brickwork of chimneys. Let’s see those dullards at the public house do that. I would love to see the fittest of their men compete against my 280 lbs frame as I amble the boards with Geckoesque grip and control. It is not about being the strongest, or the most memorable chiney sweep, it is about getting the job done. Post-victorian England isn’t going to unsoot itself and my poise and grace will win chimneys over one by one, if not for a lingering memory, for the sheer efficacy of my work and style. I dont need them to call the name of Michael Jarvis from the rooftops, the balance of my work is clamour enough upon the straining ceiling tiles.

0

Ithaca Brewing Company, Le Bleu, For Beer Drinkers Who Desire Bleu -BALs

|

Happy New Years eve. No one is reading this shit because they are all out at Forever 21 buying stupid sequin dresses or racks and racks of InBev products to usher in a January of broken resolutions and 11 months of self medicating by pushing lasagna into their gullets. Don’t worry, I will be here for you. Today’s review is of the elusive LeBlue from Ithaca up in New York.

My berries are tingling. I bet yours are too, don't lie.

My berries are tingling. I bet yours are too, don’t lie.

Ithaca Beer Company
New York, United States
American Wild Ale | 5.40% ABV

A: The appearance of this beer leans toward the goozey with a dull radiance and some wispy carbonation that peaces out like when parents roll up to a Mormon dance. There is a pencil lead crackle to this and no real lacing to speak of, but the old AWA was never the bulwark of foamy excesses, go to Saisonland if you want that ride. My saddle is waiting, ride it, jump on it.

RareBrew I choose you! Over learning a foreign language, meeting women, or taking up cycling.

RareBrew I choose you! Over learning a foreign language, meeting women, or taking up cycling.

S: This doesn’t put that fruit foot forward, and I dare say I am not receiving Fruit by the Foot or any unit of measurement. My experience has usually been that those gentle blueberry skins and juice profile largely get wiped out by more lactic base beers or they dominate shitty wheat profiles like SeaDog and Wachussett This shit or this jammy jammer or even this elusive berry stomper. This is no exception and the lactic profile kinda has the dominating lactic profile that Cascade sometimes pushes onto its addicts, but in a more refined manner. You get a light berry profile, but it is buttressed by acidic balustrades and not unlike the Medici era paintings, it is difficult to all take in at one time. I would like some more fruit, but I also want a substantial sour punch to it, and this execution favors the latter at the expense of the former. Everybody’s nips be still all blasting though, halfmast with anticipation.

T: This further confirms my prior suspicions and essentially presents itself as almost lambicesque in execution with light fruiting in the aromatics and in the finish. You get lemon pulp, grapefruit dryness, a ripe tangelo with oakiness maintaining the oeuvre. Finally, at the close of the third act, blueberry sheepishly walks in and ties everything together with some flavors that seem natural and gentle not like that “OOPS ALL BERRIES” sort of synthetic adjunct bullshit that other breweries (Hey, Shipyard, listen closely) USE THAT EVERYONE FUCKING HATES. I don’t want a shot of torani into a janky lager, I want real fucking berries. I know because I made a shitty bleuberry lambic and forced it on my friends, much to their chagrin. I have seen some shit in the produce aisle.

Target market for limited releases: neckbeard beta beer fan

Target market for limited releases: neckbeard beta beer fan

M: This is dry but doesn’t start tearing at my gumline, it has the AWA presence that gives a balance to the acidity with the yeast chewiness to add a layer of depth beyond just loose butthole palate scorching that some lactic lambics set forth. It is better as a result. That being said, don’t expect that blueberries to save you, you will need a glass of water with this otherwise cankersores are forthcoming. Not HSV, CANKERsores, you assholes.

D: This is very drinkable if it is the only thing that you are setting out to drink on a balmy evening. I mean that this will accomplish two things if you attempt to mix and match other beers with it: 1) your palate will be pretty fatigued after this and your bitter/sweet zones will be taxed harder than Scandinavian prostitutes. 2) this is pretty dry and you will likely grind your bicuspids and swallow a good portion of the inside of your face as a result. If the flavor profile is worth it to you, or if you are doing a lame 19 person tasting where you have .8 oz of it to brag to your other beer friends who really don’t give a fuck about your untappd account or your janky ass tumblr account, because seriously, why would they want to read that shit- wait, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, this is good in moderation or as the only beer, given its dominating profile.

That sour berry finish, I feels it

That sour berry finish, I feels it

Narrative: Dexter Natbony reclined in his supple calfskin office chair and looked upon the 14 monitor display at the YouTube videos cascading in, faster than he could even count. “This is sweet and yet so bitter at the same time, I LOVE IT!” Dexter exclaimed and popped a berry into his mouth. He was the mastermind behind a secret private interest coalition to ensure the lowering of teenager self esteem across the United States. This initiative was backed by Olay, Kraft, Tony Horton, and Neutrogena, among others. Dexter’s newest brainchild was to upload a torrent of “AM I PRETTY?” videos to Youtube, and watch the backlash from users and copycats alike. The posters were sweet in demeanor and usually sought some kinda of validation for their shitty lack of depth and hormonal imbalances. The balance of the sweet was kept in check by bitter comments from other insecure people, pushing the flotsam levels to critical acrimonious depths. “IT IS FOOLPROOF, these girls will hate themselves and in turn hate on one another,” Dexter quipped to his hairless Sphinx cat while savoring a tart smoothie. It was this balance of sweet and bitter that allowed cockmouthed corporations to control insecure individuals, keep them oppressed, bitter, and longing for the sweetness delivered in simplistic RomCom plots. For only with the promise of sweet, could the bitter be tolerated to this degree.

1

Cantillon Crianza Helena, The Face that Launched a Thousand Shits. On Ebay.

|

Cantillon one offs, just another Wednesday in this website, which is basically the perineum of the beer world. So let’s get tainted in today’s review. I remember someone told me the deal with this beer, something about a beer to celebrate someone’s daughter and special cognac barrels or something, but you don’t give a shit about that. You came for the labia jokes, and stay for the dick pix. Who am I to disappoint:

The sweet sound of beer nerd mantits slapping together as they pound their gamer keyboards in rage over not being able to have something. Serenity.

The sweet sound of beer nerd mantits slapping together as they pound their gamer keyboards in rage over not being able to have something. Serenity.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This is a standard affair for an oldish gueuze, it has a hazy orange construction paper/sawdust sorta aspect going on. The lacing was insubstantial and the carbonation wasn’t really that intense either. I guess you don’t go to gueuzes for their pretty looks, they are the battered, old barrel aged bretheren of the sour world, mistreated mistresses always not pressing charges, making up excuses for the carbonation and bugs therein.

At first it seems sour and acrimonius, but then it is approachable and gentle.

At first it seems sour and acrimonius, but then it is approachable and gentle.

S: I was really looking for something to hang my hat on to point to in an attempt to differentiate this from other baller ass gueuzes. Personally, I think this is kinda a standard execution, just polished up a bit, you get the dead bodies of the pellicle forward in a musky sponge dipped in orange juice, lemon rind, straw, some light attic aspects, but not the insulation/pink shit, like the creaky wood. I have some creaky wood fo- (PENIS JOKE LIMIT EXCEEDED.DLL_err0r)

T: This is lactic as the day in Morris Illinois is long. Ask Alewatcher, he will tell you, long ass days there. You get some white grape but the really hard ripe ones that pucker your face, some muscat grape, super small not ready yet apricots that make you deuce during Swim PE, oak, and a touch of the sweetness from cognac. This is pretty similar to Oude Gueuze Vintage from 3F, but with a lil bit more musk and funk mellowed out with a light caramel sweetness from the cognac. Maybe it doesn’t, train a Black Chocobo, get kings of the round, fuck if I know.

I guess this is better with age on it. I will only have it once, so I can only speculate with regards to that person in red pants.

I guess this is better with age on it. I will only have it once, so I can only speculate with regards to that person in red pants.

M: This is as dry as the discussions at Coachella and you don’t even have to listen to shitty Animal Collective to enjoy it. You get the crisp apple skin dryness that isn’t exactly acidity but it imparts this kind of lip smacking goodness. You know how old men always have that white stuff at the corners of their mouth and have to lick like 5 times to soak their mouths, it is like that, except you can’t buy this with your AARP card and you won’t be able to get away with saying borderline racist shit either.

D: This is pretty gentle and drinkable and I feel that the light sweetness is a nice touch to what is already a world class gueuze. I probably wouldnt/cant/impossible to get this again, so pressing my love handles against the glass and showing off makes this beer seem a bit underwhelming in retrospect, but that is relative to other massive walez on the infamous list. Seek it out for sheez, but don’t go turning tricks on Craigs List for it, the therapy will cost way moar.

Pop this open, get a glass, and get sour twisted with your friends.

Pop this open, get a glass, and get sour twisted with your friends.

Narrative: “Well boys, it is finally over, we did it,” Cabbage declared with a succinct statement, wiping a tiny tear of victory from his fur. He was a sweet Sea Otter who could be found regularly scampering through oak pieces or gripping tensely onto some driftwood, but tonight he was a leader. “The federal government tried to relocate us, put us otters in coastal habitats, I say YOU GO LIVE IN A COASTAL HABITAT SENATOR” he boomed to a group of sweet and outright adorable otters slowly turning in the tide. One otter banged a rock on an abelone to bring the meeting to order. “BUT WE ARE NOT DONE YET,” Cabbage splashed some water defiantly into the air, “OUR NEXT GOAL will be to spread our culture up the mouth of the Mississippi to reach the tolerant southern states and spread our culture of adorability to states that are inherently depressing!” The crowd clamored, unaware that Southern trappers had almost no regard for cute animals and amongst the worst public schools in the western hemisphere.

0

Drie Fonteinen Framboos, I Was Saying Boos-Urns

|

Man, saison marathon ends, then I post a couple 5/5 stellar video beer reviews over the weekend and the site becomes a hotbed for controversy. Let’s get things back on track in today’s review of 3F Framboos, AKA THE BIG BOO, aka the BOOZER, slaying white walez on the reg. On another note, since this was brewed again, it is now in some top 100 lists, so there is also that. Poppopopop watcing sea mammals drop.

If you are too busy and cant fit time in to eat fruit AND drink beer, 2 birds, 1 stone.

If you are too busy and cant fit time in to eat fruit AND drink beer, 2 birds, 1 stone.

Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: Look at that juicy lil wine cooler, posted up looking like a Lisa Frank binder with all the fuchsia foam and pink hues. Make me want to put tassles on my lil ladybike and stroll with a carnation in my hair. The lacing is minimal and the carbonation was as to be expect, namely cray. The whole affair is legit and even Chief Keef would agree that ladies love 1) Sosa and 2) rare raspberry lambics.

The things you have to go through to get this beer, painful, horrible things.

The things you have to go through to get this beer, painful, horrible things.

S: This is hands down the best part of this beer, it smells like freshly unrolled fruit by the foot, the inside goo within Gushers, a spring pastoral farmers market, sweet honeysuckle, hyacinth, and smashed ass raspberries. If you cant taste this beer, trade for an empty bottle and you just won half of the game AND KEPT YOUR ANUS AT ITS CURRENT DIAMETER.

T: This is fantastically refreshing and opens with a juicy profile and dry tannic raspberry skins, the puckering aspects have a great interplay with the lactic acidity from the base beer and the lingering produce meets tartness is just the refreshing beverage that you need after enrolling your kids in military school or pushing your stepmom down a flight of stairs, you know, supes refreeesh.

This sounds like an excellent idea.

This sounds like an excellent idea.

M: This is drying but not like chardonnay aspects, more of a “I just ate way too many dried fruits” sort of manner. You get this acidity but those elements are kept in check by a sweet profile from the fresh juice; sweet yet hateful like a Korean housewife.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the fruit profile quells all that guilt in your heart because you can tell yourself that it TECHNICALLY is fruit and you TECHNICALLY don’t need to go to those Court ordered AA classes, because TECHNICALLY you are a beer connoisseur and TECHNICALLY it isn’t alcoholism if you spent a lot on the bottle and call it a hobby. But srs, this is a legit beer, the only problem is that raspberry is one of the comparably “easier” styles to execute with similar results. This is unquestionably one of the best framboise that I have ever had, but at the same time Framboise de Amarosa is also very good and I would make a coherent argument that FFaC and Rose de Gambrius could toe precariously close to these levels. It just depends on if you are that type of asshole who rolls up in an Aventador and looks down upon the dude in a Gallardo. fruitbullwalez.

This is a baller ass beer for tickers with elevators up in their crib.

This is a baller ass beer for tickers with elevators up in their crib.

Narrative: The brakes of the Nissan Altima locked up and the affordable yet spacious sedan slid through the pink muck into a Mitsubishi Gallant, an equally spacious albeit less reliable midsized sedan. “What in the, COME ON!” Judy Temperton exclaimed and she got out of her car. Her white Keds slipped on the uneven goop and the air was redolent with raspberry juice. The entire I-85 was littered with crates and crates of fresh raspberries, each broken open and mangled into a deep ruby paste on the road. Red asphalt, indeed. Maria Krupky jumped out of her car and surveyed the damage. Both parties had incredibly high deductibles and, what GEICO representative would take pity on a raspberry induced accident. The two women shook their heads balefully and walked to the front of the overturned fruit truck. The smell of diesel fuel and fresh fruit almost choked them in turn. Just past the truck the women would see the cause of the accident: a completely murdered out flat black Bentley Arnage spun headfirst into a ditch. A middle aged man in a Tommy Bahama shirt was clutching frantically at his iPhone 5S with the unlimited data plan. The pangs of the idle rich made all too apparent. His bluetooth fell into a puddle of raspberry juice and he sobbed quietly, the juice mixing into his open cuts. If anything, it was hard to pity something so opulent in appointment, the teeming thirsty masses would never know that life. No, the Diamantes and Altimas would content themselves with car accidents and the taste of regular raspberries, as is the way of things.

0

Logsdon Seizoen Bretta, SAISON MARATHON IS FINALLY OVER. Also this saison is super dank.

|

You guize, I didn’t die, and saison marathon is finally over. Closing out like a boss with an amazing PnW saison that people have been jocking harder than Starter Jackets in the 90s.

Looks like orange juicy juice, cream on the inside clean on the outside.

Looks like orange juicy juice, cream on the inside clean on the outside.

Doubling down on the pics to close out saison marathon

Doubling down on the pics to close out saison marathon

Logsdon Farmhouse Ales
Oregon, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Just look at that turbid milky mess of saison. The wheat is poppin like cheeks at Magic City and makes me wanna pop bands and sprinkle bills all over it. The carbonation is downright hilarious. I ordered this at Little Bear and the bottle gushed so hard it made the server look like he was pulling off some Urkel shit. The lacing is substantial but somehow looks clean at the same time. Filthy yet desirable, Sasha Grey level saison maneuver.

After a full month in the weeds, time to celebrate...with a saison. God damnit.

After a full month in the weeds, time to celebrate…with a saison.
God damnit.

S: There is a huge dryness to this and the brett profile is more pronounced than a non-regional dialect. You get lemon rind, puppy breath, grapefruit juice, the musk of cookie dough without the sugary sweetness, and finally some pineapple aspects on the closer. If you cannot land Fantome Ete, this is about the closest thing I can approximate that beer to.

T: This is incredibly musky and earthy and almost has a sort of mushroom and Jazz apple interplay going on. There is the classic belgian yeast strain, white pepper in the middle body, and this dry execution like pear skin that is more legit than Trinidad James. This doesn’t go overboard on any aspect because the musk is ratcheted back enough to give the tart aspects enough stage time. This is something I imagine the elementary school grounds keeper drinking after a long day of mowing down crabgrass, earthy and bitter with a tinge of tart hope for the future. Excellent and profound like a Soulja Boy album.

I was gonna try and tie this picture in to the review, but it is a god damn baby kangaroo. Joey so hard.

I was gonna try and tie this picture in to the review, but it is a god damn baby kangaroo. Joey so hard.

M: This is dry but like I noted, that musk adds a complexity that just wipes out your bitter zones and daisy chains it to make you want to take another sip. The brett with the substantial wheat body has this one two punch that if either aspect was ratcheted back, would be imbalanced. You remember how Garbage Pail Kids cards were dirty but at the same time refreshing and intruiging, that is kinda how this beer is because you know it is messy, but you secretly like all the soil smashed in your hair and your skin all dried out. You nasty.

D: This is one of the most drinkable saisons, it is all over shelves, it has an amazing price point, and delivers every time without that Russian Roulette of Belgian bottles. I highly recommend showing this to someone who doesn’t know dick about saisons, show them your dick, I mean, the beer. Damnit. This has the aspects of other baller/expensive saisons and glimpses the tiers of greatness like Tintoretto, but fails to hit that farmhouse perfection like Titian exemplars HF, Fantome, etc, all the other breweries whose jocks I ride like a sybian.

My face when I completed an entire month of drinking the best saisons in the world.

My face when I completed an entire month of drinking the best saisons in the world.

Narrative: James Kurtz pounded each step in rhythmic pain, exhaling a cloud of mist through his strained lungs. It had been an aggressive 26 miles but he had now entered the final stretch and an Oregon morning had never seemed so crisp. He crossed the finish line and walked with an antalgic gait to a pile of leaves and laid down to stretch. He swallowed deep from the cup of lemonade and looked up to the sky, watching the nimbus ornaments drape their alabaster fingers across the sky. It had been a battle the entire way, but he had finally done it: HE RAN AN ENTIRE MARATHON COMPLETELY DRUNK. James pulled off his Camelpak and took a final pull of the saison bladder in his backpack. His physician told him that drinking 8% beer while dehydrating himself was a suicide mission, but he pressed on. Some complained that he reeked of alcohol and wheatgrass, but his pores were a testament to his achievement. With a gentle repose, James laid in the grass and inhaled deeply. Saison marathon had finally been completed.

2

YOU GUIZE CRAFT BEER HISTORY HAS BEEN MAED TODAY

|

In case you didn’t know, there are currently 2,751 breweries operating and slanging beer on traps and blocks in the United States. This is more than all of the U.S. Breweries back in 1887 COMBINED. A lot of people have rock hard alerections when they hear this statistic and use the figure to point how CRAFT IS BETTER AND LOOK AT HOW FAR WE HAVE COME. The only problem is, think of your local breweries, all of them, not just the baller ass ones, how many of them are turning out things you are excited to drink. I have been to towns where there are a shitload of breweries that roll out the same tired ass kolsch/hef/amber/pale 4 punch all day long and it makes me wonder who told these dudes “hey, you seriously need to open a brewery, there are not enough places doing exactly what you are doing and running in the red right now, take your predictable ass Wyeast beers and pair them with some janky ass pizza, this is an excellent idea.”

MOAR BEER MAKERS IS MORE BETTER

MOAR BEER MAKERS IS MORE BETTER

I could care less how MANY breweries there are, I would rather hear about how many breweries there are that are actually 1) exceptionally good and 2) innovative. If you don’t have the first part, you don’t get to do the second, Rogue. In San Diego every asshole who can boil extract in a pot thinks he is God’s gift to enzymes and that is just one of many places where assholes reside. What ends up happening is 1) market clutter and 2) non-beer people drink a lot of lackluster offerings and think that’s what you do in the basement all night.

I guess having more options is good, but I have never walked into the 98 cent store and been stoked to see another Shasta variant of Mountain Mist, because I am not a poor needledick who drinks pedestrian offerings. The worst is when a brewery sees that everyone and their autistic half cousin is brewing so they come up with some “Lavender, chapstick, canola oil, hibiscus, pink peppercorn Dortmunder aged on retired marine vessel wood” to try and wow people inside their doors. These beers usually taste like the inside of a nutsack and then I have to deal with regular people’s tired ass allegories about “THIS ONE TIME IN BILLINGS MONTANA I TRIED A DERP SKERP ALE, IT WAS HORRIBLE, THAT IS WHAT YOU LIKE.” All of a sudden I am justifying liking the taste of testicles.

My face when I see another new brewery super stoked about their amber ale

My face when I see another new brewery super stoked about their amber ale

Less mediocre breweries, less shitty beer, or the opposite. I don’t know, I failed Algebra and I eat Totino’s Pizza rolls on the reg.