DDB is reviewing LA breweries: INDIE BREWING CO is first up.

People criticize old DDB for not leaving the house enough. The trappings of living in an ivory tower and emptying the dump bucket of ferm privilege out the window of conceit has its shortcomings. So to change this, I am embarking on a bold new initiative to go to Los Angeles breweries, known and unknown, and complain about them, with mild shellacking of praise as an offset.

First up we have Indie Brewing Company, which is a name so generic that it sounds like a company in a sitcom or a trifling romc with copyright litigation averse lawyers. The logo is like a hop with a mowhawk or something, so maybe it is music driven. On that note, the music in this place is blaring and fucking terrible. I know music is subjective but this wasn’t like “oh I dont prefer U2” this was like they played stock music from early 2000s Cinemax films or something. Extremely loudly. Everyone there seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. There’s TV’s and like a little lounge area, and inexplicable astroturf on every surface. The beers take that same threadbare co-opting of hip hop lyrics that is endemic to everything west of Monkish and east of J Wakefield. FIND THAT JUICY DOUBLE/ DON’T CALL IT A COMEBACK, etc. you can cite any fragmentary rap lyric from the Clinton administration and apply for TTB approval. How about “NOW IM SWITCHING MY MIND BACK INTO FREAK MODE” altbier bc LOL remember “regulate?” We fill growlers.

Anyway, the beer is fine. It hits that type of GPA that will keep your parents off your back and get you into a brewery State College where you can major in like polisci or something equally uninspiring. The barleywine is Bad n’ Boozie brutal from every angle. These unbalanced TIPA tier hop bombs of malty IEDs are exactly what give busted myopic palates a disfavorable conception of barleywines. Those instarones who are always like “WELL I HAD HOG HEAVEN ONCE SO I THINK I KNOW WHAT I-” Haus of Haze was fine. If you’ve had any innumerable bag cereal versions of god tier haze, you know what to expect, lack of depth, wispy carb and sustain. It’s a Pass/Fail grade and doesn’t affect anything. Pacific Kolsch Highwya was the best thing I had from them and it was fucking great. I would drink gallons of this, but I’m sure people just pass right over that one in lieu of other yawn inducing beers like Get Wit It.

The coolest part of this taproom was this dog.

This dog was just chilling in the heat, enduring, living his best life. I felt a strong connection with this dog while I was trying to just stumble through 5 painful ounces of lysol barleywine. Each of us enduring this journey together watching as no fewer than five dudes wearing Dragon Ball Z shirts sat at a picnic table. He understood me more than Indie Brewing Company ever could.

I will be ranking all of the breweries in my “Let’s Go Visit Los Angeles Breweries Today Ok Fine” (LGVLABTOF) journey, as a result of being the first, Indie Brewing Company gets to claim the top spot. The best brewery in LA. You heard it here first folks, by way of default:

1. Indie Brewing Company (Blighttown, CA)


Odd Breed Wild ales is odd, but fascinating. Moritas and Upper Case poems Marsala

My relationship with Florida at large is exceedingly complicated. It’s like how I feel about literature from Philip Roth: there are so many aspects I find offputting or culturally backward, but then there are so many pockets of pure brilliance. The two aspects are difficult to reconcile. That dystopian waterphallus penetrates the lapis lazuli folds of the Carribean and in the everglades, the teeming shaft contains the cultural DNA of the absolute worst and some of the finest. Scale downward to Miami, enhance, punch in on Odd Breed, enhance terroir. I know some will spit their Swamphead or Saint Somewhere on their Compaq keyboards, but this brewery has the best wild ales that Florida has to offer at present. This is so far from kettle that it is a patient inverted pot, which none may call black, a collander of brett complexity. Let’s look at two beers from Odd Breed:

We just looked at Funk Factory’s trashfruit blackberry recycling program saison, so let’s look at Odd Breed’s Goodwill Salvation Army saison of reanimated produce: Moritas. My hardpour notwithstanding, this beer is intensely carbed with frothy Logsdon sustain. The color is almost a relief because it connotes a tempered fruit quality and delivers with a firm farmhouse handshake first a light tingling of sour ropes along the mandible. This is far more refreshing than the Funk Factory doppleganger and I suspect it is due to the retrained fruit profile, lower acidity, the unfermentable spelt contributing to the whip and heft of the body preventing things getting to that “Sarah Hyland” thin body that draws concern and ire. This is crushable without pausing for pH turbulence, but lacks the complexity and showmanship of the FF offering. The swallow is neat and tidy, punches the landing with a smattering of tropical skittles and Blaugies.

Let’s look at the even stranger side of Odd Breed ales with this anomalous iteration of wild Life: Upper Case Poems Marsala barrel. Strap in for some apeshit conceptual strong wilds. This is a double barrel barleywine, tight let’s ge- THAT WAS INNOCULATED WITH BACTERIA, wait hang on what are yo- THEN AGED IN HEAVY CHAR no pls wait AND THEN IN ITALIAN MARSALA that is the side of barleywine mountain, pls pull up we are GOING TO CRAS- Breathe a sigh of relief because this beer, somehow, against all odds…is strangely delicious. I don’t know how they did it. First and foremost, this is a barleywine through and through, the base is malty and thiccc and ribbons caramel through merlot, toffee and black cherries, an oud bruin and lightly acetic waft that finishes like burnt toast and strawberry preserves. This shit makes no sense. Let it open up to 60+ degrees and the clipping is turned off. It is a merger of two things I never knew I wanted, but it somehow works. It’s not a classic barleywine, more akin to the likes of Be Still from Ale Apothecary or Nightmare on Brett/Sentience. Hell, even a touch of OG Cuvee du Tomme is in there right down to the almost completely languid carb and ineffectual mouthfeel. The sum is better than these components that work together to create something fascinating that on paper looks like a total fucking BRUERY FIRE SALE type of conceptual Terrieux merger of odd casks. It’s very well done and I continue to follow this weird brewery if only to see where they are going because they are very much ahead of the audience’s palates, but hopefully not their wallets in these cascading punchlines of sublime wild ales.

Also there’s 3 days left to buy this ddb floccboi shirt:



Funk Factory BlackBerry Foeder Saison is a tannic bucking berry bronco

Funk Factory has a catalogue of beers that are narrow in scope, but harrowing in depth, like the confines of a congressional investigation. You won’t see banana porters, or even gentle english milds; what you will see is every swatch of acidic wild ales possible. Now if you sat in the Home Depot paint aisle for an appreciable amount of time, you would be able to distinguish the nuances between “apple core” and “arctic linen” whereas some bluntsighted interlocutor would just call them all WHITE or ipso facto SOUR. What happens when them swatches are painted and repainted in a second use? Here we have a “second runnings” beer of sorts, not in the petite sense, but in the provincial produce sense. Funk Factory made Framzwart and then racked this beer to those insane 4lbs of blackberries per gallon TRASH BARRELS. One man’s spent trashberries are another man’s smoothie. I was expecting a pale rose glow like Grim Harvest from Jester King, but boy was I fucking wrong. That is an insane amount of fruit and I beat up on Black Project for using that much fruit in the past. It’s sheer excess from a Jamba Juice perspective. As a result, you would expect the handmedown version to be tamer but think again, this is a bucking acidic bronco and you gotta grip those tannins for a full 8 seconds. It is intensely drying like a full bodied Lirac/Gigondas, long deep syrah meets vaporized smuckers. The juice is long gone and all that remains is the violet husks of these etheral fruit skins to walk the staves seeking solace. It is puckering but has an immense farmhouse complexity underneath to counter balance the nearly punishing gum defacement within the musky comte cheese swallow. The swallow lingers like your mother in law on a Holiday weekend. The flavor to abv ratio on this is dizzying but I don’t know if someone could tank this entire beer solo. I will say that the acidity is far more manageable north of 55 degrees and it transmutes into a kind of arid berry mars rover mission for your tastebuds. I enjoyed it, but couldn’t finish it. That “Tree of Life” seal of approval.

Also Malt Couture batch 4 is live now on iTunes, stitcher, Spotify, Google play: everywhere basically stop complaining


Getting Real Sick of Funk Factory’s Unbridled Nonsense

It’s pretty fukn disrespectful that @funkfactorygeuzeria keeps improving and making the rest of the American wild cf. MT cum de pLam scene worse by contrast. Furthermore, they send me these bottles to review full well knowing that they aren’t shitty. No one wants to read a glowing review, this brewery is just making me less interesting by default. That’s a well I don’t need to pump any further, I been pumped so hard. They could at least put scantily clad ladies on the labels or name them after some Wedding Crashers shit, this is too god damn refined and it’s destabilizing things for everyone else. It’s not okay.