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Cantillon Fou Foune, Loonz Beside Me, Swerving Through Traffic with my Founes Behind Me

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Enough killing off 2 liter growlers like Spaniards and Native Americans, time to get back to our Belgian roots. I don’t need to really say anything about this beer 1) it is Cantillon 2) it is their inimitable apricot fruited lambic, Fou Foune. People always get their stone fruits all juiced whenever this beer gets brought up, opened, or even discussed. I once took this to Cabo and drank it on the Tropic of Cancer, and it was an Italian bottle of Foune. So that means it went from Belgium, to Italy, to Ireland, to Florida, to California, to Cabo San Lucas. That beer is more well-traveled than most Americans from Alabama. Anyway, let’s get that juicy juice in today’s review:

Sipping Foune in Cabo, well this Friday now appears immeasurably shittier.

It’s like in Cold Mountain when Jude Law looks a pic of his long lost love and, wait what-

Fou Foune
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: This has that classic turbid Cantillon straw meets orange juice sort of pulpiness to it, but the frothy carbonation seems inviting like a water park that is just clean enough to seem legit. The lacing is minimal but, did you really expect some massive frothy nitrogen head? You unrealistic bitch.

Send her an apricot lambic, girls be loving apricot lambics.

S: I can’t begin to tell you how amazing this beer smells just short of taking you to a Kentucky apricot orchard and rubbing sweet straw in your face. Maybe pull a Jansport backpack over your head, squeeze a bit of peach and crabapples onto your face, get things real tawdry up in this mix. That’s essentially the experience, but is it ever inviting. Some people like aging this, other haters just open it fresh and let God sort it all out. I have had both, EVEN ON DRAFT, and it is amazing regardless of circumstance.

T: This takes the old lactic base and musky wet leaves from the OG gueuze and dials things up a notch to a nice apricot meets acidity level that is impressive through and through. There’s an intense apricot skin and dryness that hits your gumline with nana’s peach preserves in town and light sort of biscuit quality that just gets its head held underwater mercilessly by the delicious acidity.

Fou is like an old friend who comes back from the past to warn you about a Founeless future.

M: This is crisp and dry like biting into a granny smith apple that happens to be coated in chardonnay and peach jam. The balance is incredible despite the excoriating acidity, and the 750 never lasts as long as you expect. I would suggest seeking some out but most trades for this beer are one way streets. It is an anomalous situation where people trade for Fou, but no one ever gives up a Foune. FEEL ME.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and will give you gurgle guts on par with the State Fair. But like the deep fried Pepsi, it is entirely worth it. This is a world class fruited lambic and it is better than Blabaer. I said it. I defy you to find someone who believes differently.

Running out of Foune is strangely disturbing.

Narrative: Kelly Chancery seemed sweet enough. She gave her friends rides to school in her lemon yellow Mini Cooper, never asked for gas money, and even tutored the water polo athletes due to their abject inability to circumscribe triangles. Deep down, she hated each and every one of them. At age 12 her parents sent her to a strict Belgian exercise summer camp. She was served nothing but overly ripe pitted fruits and engaged in vinegar diets and extensive cleanses. Her taste buds were so badly burned in the enterprise that she returned a jaded, bitter shell of herself, figuratively and literally. “Hey Taeler! Hop on it! Are those Rock N REPUBLIC!? OMG you are such a hot BITCH!” she quipped and stared down her brow as she grinded her mandible. The tiny convertible held 50 lbs of explosive materials and ammonia nitrate in the trunk. She sucked deeply onto her Lemon Sucrets and waited for that sour day that she would burn them all. Kelly Chancery only seemed sweet enough, she was sour to the core.

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Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, Three Hour Tour, For People Who Like to Drink Milk Stouts While Shipwrecked

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Another 2 liter, draft only adventure? That’s how we do it on this site, always on the grizzy. Anyway, this little gem pops its head up once a month on the top 100 and has consistently solid ratings so what’s a ticker to do, for every thousand I rate, another relative sues. Someone told me that they only filled 50 growlers of this, so guess we have another draft only rarity on our hands. Just another day on this site, I know. A gracious CO local hooked up this MN growler and I gave it the business and was left with a sticky sweet milk stout mustache. Does my body good.

I would need more than just 2 liters of beer if I was going on a Three Hour Tour. Step up your oceanic mariner game, Minnesota.

Three Hour Tour
Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery
Minnesota, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.10% ABV

A: This is going to be a huge shocker, it is a lightly frothy baby stout with wispy carbonation and playful little baby duck carbonation that bobs in the quay. Just look at it, it is too adorable to finish an entire growler of. After taking down 20% beers, a 6% stout feels like something you drink in between racquetball sets or during a crossfit workout. It has dark hues at the center and light mocha at the edges, adorable all around.

This beer reminds you of sweet things from your childhood, only…different…

S: This is sweeeet. Maybe even more “e”‘s are warranted. There’s definitely the lactose element and it comes across as a achingly decadent milk chocolate like those janky chocolate rabbits you get at easter time. Shit gets Cadburry real quick with a mild coconut and vanilla batter aspect. This doesn’t scream stout, it calls out cocoa liqueur.

T: This is light and again, just a diabetic’s worst nightmare, sticky cavity inducing sugars through and through. The sweetness came off as a bit synthetic with this sort of oiliness in the finish that just seemed out of place for a milk stout at 6% abv. You get the chocolate and the Nestle Quik thing going on and the finish is like an Almond Joy that went through the wash, crumpled up in your JNCO jeans.

I find myself questioning the authenticity of the coconut in earnest.

M: This is incredibly light but at the same time spraypaints a line of glucose all the way down your throat so that you aren’t super stoked to take the next shockingly sweet sip. I can handle sweet stouts, I take 50/50 Eclipse to the face like a Brazzer’s video, but when you don’t have a solid malt base to level things out, it comes across like chocolate Kool-Aid with far too many residual sugars. I dislike char in general, but this needed something to level the 6-4 frame out to keep on rolling on those 808 drums.

D: This would be exceptionally drinkable in every aspect if not for the cloying sweetness. You know those was bottles with the juice in them? The juice is great, but you dont need all this pageantry when you just want juice. Similarly, if you stripped out this adjunct coconut aspect, you would have a solid porter, and I would be fine with that. This was just too much for my childish palate and reminded me of Darklord 64.

Tickers be so quick to upload beer complaints. I will upload my beer diploma never.

Narrative: “Dr. Ira? The Kensington boy is waiting for you in bay 4,” the dental technician called and pulled the x-rays for Dr. Ira to review. “God. Damnit,” Ira stated to himself as he looked upon the monochrome disaster. It was like this every 6 months, the tattered enamel looking more porous and similar to a drive by shooting in an MS13 neighborhood. “Well Brayden, I don’t need to tell you anything you don’t know. Have you been using ACT as we discussed?” Brayden folded his arms and wiped a streak of milk chocolate from his stained lips. He looked as though he ate a box of Milk Duds just prior to walking into the office. “Well Brayden, you see, your teeth, you have them for your entire life and that means-” as he continued Brayden pulled out a Fundip and began judiciously applying coats of powdered sugar to his teeth as the fluoride was washing away. “This child has no regard for his dental well being, he cares only for the sweet decadence of mandibular destruction!” Dr. Ira called out in a strangely effusive manner to the other Chatsworth Dental patients.

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Dark Horse Monster29, Two Liters of 20% Abv Double Barleywine to the Dome Piece

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I know what you are thinking, “a DOUBLE barleywine? What manner of chicanery is this?” Fear not, I have this one under control. This beer is a brewery only, growler only release from Dark Horse. Why this brewery chose to growler a 20% abv beer in two liter format is beyond me but, here we are. I am told something to the tune of 30 growlers of this were filled and it was $50 a fill, so this was quite an undertaking. This is not an iced beer, just straight up doubled down barleywine, so let’s get to it.

No need to worry, this is just another monster.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States
American Barleywine | 20% (?) 17.50% ABV (?) There are conflicting reports and I am unaware if this was lab tested. Either way, God damn.

A: Just look at that tepid inky blackness. The growler leaked en route from Michigan and getting even a drop of this mahogany darkness on your skin is like tattoo ink or that black stuff from Pirates of Dark Water. There is little carbonation to speak of but just look at that sheeting. The clear alcohol on the glass takes everything like 16th century prelates. There is no lacing, no embroidery, no quilting to tell old Gam Gam about. This beer has zero fucks to spare.

Spread that sticky double barleywine all over the place.

S: The bouquet is outrageously sweet, with notes of caramel, oak, bourbon, vanilla, toffee, and Heath bars. I must reiterate: this beer is NOT ice distilled. Furthermore, it is not even barrel aged, but I am told that Dark Horse has sinister plans of actually barrel aging this beast and unleashing it upon the Michigan public to determine the extent that their livers can withstand. Detroit is basically the nation’s haunted house, so I am confident that this beer will not shake things up in that region.

T: This has an initial huge sweetness that is similar to charred brown sugar, maple syrup, mocha caramel, and some sticky light pine at the backend. This is a complete monster through and through. I shared this at the Bruery with the staff that had just finished the 19.x% batch of Black Tuesday from this year and everyone in attendance was mystified at this beer. This drinks in a manner leaning towards liqueur in the intense booziness and sticky residual sugar profile. I spread this around the attendants of the tasting room like a DUI Fairy, blessing each participant with court sanctions classes and bus rides.

Take this to a club. Share with size 00 women. Post results.

M: This is incredibly sticky and lingers for a long time after the finish. I drank about 12oz of this and that was an incredible feat given the complexity, sweetness, and downright booziness. This is not exceptionally difficult to drink, but it will put you directly to bed. You don’t get the alcoholic burn that you would be expecting from a Manticore of this proportion, but it will still light up your chest like E.T.

D: This is a highly nuanced beer that can be enjoyed completely flat and at room temperature, that being said, this is not exceptionally drinkable. I can only imagine the marketing meeting at Dark Horse where they decided that 64oz growlers were the appropriate serving size for this Chimera. I am glad to have tried it but it was on the upper end of what I can tolerate. I have to remind you, this is reviewing it in light of TNP, Five Squared, Double Black, and the other “ultra-beers” that I have tried. This warrants an entirely new style classification. In sum, a great beer that should be shared without hesitation.

If you open up a 2 liter growler of this, the time for fucking around has long since elapsed.

Narrative: Clarence Cimmerian was born in Madison County, Illinois to humble beginnings. The water birth was a success and he shed the successive husks of his nascent shell in accordance with the waning of the lunar cycles, as was tradition with the broodlings in his bloodline. His foster parents weren’t sure exactly how to treat him, what with his 7 clicking sticky mandibles and front hooves oozing acrimonious gel. Sure, he was a “monster” in the loosest sense, but what is a monster but that which has not been classified? The Cimmerians patted his smooth carapace and handed the sack lunch to one of his writhing metatarsus and motioned for him to board the bus. His compound lenses scanned his classmates and excreted a putrid larvae onto the classroom floor, for first grade was even more taxing for the dark grub harvester, Prince of a thousand reliquaries.

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King Cobra Premium Malt Liquor, Things Get Real When You Put the Python on Them

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Ah, we have come full circle from a world class geuze to a world class American Malt Liquor beverage. This is what Freshman year of college tastes like for most of my readers, or 7th grade for my more degenerate participants. If you drink a 40 of this you are 52% more likely to engage in fingerbanging, fall asleep behind a Whole Foods, or both. I know that using glassware is a malt liquor fail but, we tryna eat on these streets.

The underground is mine, I treat it like home. I am the reason brewers saying my name like Mike Jones.

Anheuser-Busch, Inc.
Missouri, United States
American Malt Liquor | 6.00% ABV

A: You know that feeling you got when you were at rock bottom and pawned all of Nana’s brass figurines? This is what they look like after they have been melted down. The lacing is minimal and you tear up when you pour it out of the regal clear glass 40 oz bottle. The stemware is totally ancillary to the experience. There’s a clear brassiness to this with a glowing orange aspect to the center, like a radioactive pail of rainwater: YOU MIGHT GET SUPER POWERS. I get the super power to buy multiple 7-11 Tuna Sandwiches and pass out in the entryway. WILL I USE IT FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

People that lift don’t drink this. Carleton Yoder can’t hang with the Cobra.

S: This smells like a blend of a light lager and a yeasty saison, like a yeast infection. This goes cream corn to the Monistat level real quickly. I actually enjoy the mild spice and vegetal aspect because if I imagine that this is a bretty beer and not just made with discarded canned produce, it is moderately pleasant. Considering the competitors in this field, this is one of the better offerings. I know, it’s like the old watch a marathon of MASH or Touched By an Angel dilemma where no one ends up a winner.

T: This continues the sweetness of the nose, kicks in some boiled carrot aspect, there’s a light wheat aspect and rounds everything out as though you filtered the beer through a Coinstar machine. I should pad out this section with more imagery but, I seriously don’t have much else to say about a movie that is 12 minutes long. Bane climbs out of the pit. There you go.

Oh sorry, I was calling for Cobra.

M: This is incredibly thin but do you really want a more substantial cling to this vegetal roll of nickels? If this was in a small format and left some more residual sugars, girls would drink this on the lake. Understand the analog to that is boys, who will drink this while contemplating which cold air intake will fit best on their Mitsubishi Eclipse. Then you jump a huge gap, and there’s shitwaffles like myself who open it to flame it and we all high five at how far we have come. I can’t go that route though because this hits the market segment dead on, provides a refreshing wildlife funkiness to it, provides a level of meta-irony that invites conversation, and ultimately won’t really get you that hammered. There are plenty of offerings from “craft” breweries like, let’s say White Birch, Mikkeller, and Cigar City. Go drop $15.99 on a Vuja De and tell me it is superior to this beer. I fucking dare you.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I can put away a solid 40 of this before my parole hearing and not even feel bad about it. The serving size is perfect, the taste is flawed, the history is immaculate, and the image is indefatigable. Revisit this gem with an open mind and an empty wallet.

I will drink malt liquor in stemware and drainpour M: rustling jimmies is my bizness.

Narrative: The tri-state paper conference started out all wrong. Jace Rawlings knew he should have printed his handouts on eggshell, or at least opted for some embossed text. Now who looked like a fool in the company of triple bond champions. “Hey…JACE…Jace was it? Lemmie see that business card again!” Jace meekly handed his main competitor, Chaz Merkel, his freshly minted card. “I see you uh, you went big here on the single poly blend low acidity, did you happen to print this off of a HP Smarttech 2200?!” The crowd burst into laughter. References to the notorious HP Smarttech 2200 were particularly in vogue after a notorious feed error warranted a wholesale return to the factory. The other paper executives laughed and laughed at his expense. Jace lowered his head and accepted defeat. As he exited, he left a single origami crane folded out of visualizing paper, three hole punched, a rare 2003 vintage.

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Armand’4 Geuze Herfst (Fall), Dropping 32 euros on a bottle of beer Herfst so good.

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How negligent can this website get? I reviewed Spring, Summer, and Winter of the Armand’4 series and straight up neglected to provide you with this banger: HERFST. Just so this is clear, here is how I would rank these Armand seasons: Zomer, Lente, Herfst, Winter. IN THAT ORDER. Well taking the bronze in such amazing company is nothing to be a sad panda about. Let’s get puckered in today’s review, for the geuze haters.

Love HERFST. Gueuze scars.

HERFST
Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen
Belgium
Gueuze | 6.00% ABV

A This has a huge generous billowing cloud of carbonation that is cummulus to the fullest. It is light orange at its center with light yellow and gold edges. It boasts a slightly unfiltered appearance. It’s like a 6 year old at CVS, you don’t want to touch him but you know he is a little sticky and filthy. The lacing is substantial as well, it leaves little party streamers on the edges of the glass with gracious aplomb.

With every season you expect a normal geuze, BUT THEN YOU GET AN AMAZING SUPER SOUR SOAKER. Dnt be fukn stpid Gooby.

S: Not surprisingly, it is stick and filthy. There are sour and sweet tart notes are blended with hints of granny smith apples underneath. I don’t want to go out on a limb but I am going to say a Skittle reduction is at play here. Compared to the other seasons, this has a funk and earthiness to it like the landscaping section of Home Depot. There is a great wet dog meets soggy alfalfa aspect that integrates with the acidity in a fantastic way.

T There is a pleasant sweetness for a split second with a latent backroundhouse to the bitter zones immediately thereafter. Its a sucker punch which leaves your mouth a bit dry but welcoming more if only for the strange assault. It’s like getting socked in the armpit, you aren’t mad youre just a little perplexed and glad it wasn’t worse. It provides a mild hop bite and this toes the line closer to an extremely funky saison but this provides an incredible acrimonious punch to the tart zones.

This is a huge beer, but small and restrained at the same time. It is a paradigm of delicate imbalance.

M: This is very light and dries in a refreshing fashion hitting that gumline deep and hard. It reminds you of an advanced cousin, the one who learned compound cussing earlier and gave you Too Short cassette tapes. Its like the tiny asian fighter who you underestimate who delivers fast swift blows that disorient and surprise your mouth. It is clean, crisp and damaging to your bitter zones. It is concurrently musty, funky, and also coats with a nice wheaty aspect to it.

D: This style is in my opinion fantastic for hot weather and, if you have some water on hand, a great companion outdoors on the beach or a boat. If you like very mild lagers then you will disagree but then you are also a raging pacifist and it is unclear how you ended up reading this review in the first place. The juiciness and earthiness of this perfectly captures the spirit of fall: straddling the heat and acidity of Zomer with the somber earthy tones of Winter.

32 euros PLUS shipping from Belgium? This is why we can’t have nice things.

Narrative: 47 years of service. Francine Manzana gave that caramel apple pop company the best years of her life and she was terminated “for cause” for reading a Patricia Cornwell novel when she wasn’t clocked out. Francine wasn’t going to take this lying down. She knew the secret behind the tartness in those pops, and she had full intention on taking this issue public. With her box of belongings from her desk she strode over to the quality control center only to find that Loretta was out. “I will make them feel the tart bitterness of abandonment, just like they showed me.” With a few calibrations she reset the dials and the mixture began running an entirely new batch of Caramel Apple pops through the line. Her acidic personality boiled inside with a deep complexity. She stared at her spiteful reflection in the bubbling pool of acidic green glucose. The wafts of the additional citric acid stung her eyes and nostrils. Francine smiled and tossed her mystery novel into the simmering goo, for she had an unemployment officer to speak to.

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Troegs Nugget Nectar, Would an IIPA By Any Other Name Taste This Dank?

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Whenever I am confronted with an exceptional red ale, I always scratch my head and wonder who this hybrid style is aimed at. If you like hops, why not just brew a dank IPA? This top 100 red ale just crushes any other beers that approach the throne in this style. I guess variety is the spice of life and there are even degenerates who enjoy hoppy porters, so anything can happen if 50 fucked Vivica. Let’s grind some nuggets up and sip this sweet nectar.

If you have been fiending for hops, this will cure your blue nuggets.

Tröegs Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Amber / Red Ale | 7.50% ABV

A: Guess what, this has ruby notes at the edges and a medium mocha center to it. I bet you didn’t see the red notes nestled in there did you? A good looking beer with no lacing and solid carbonation.

This beer throws so many pinecones.

S: great big hop profile pine grapefruit, orange rind, the red is hidden in the malt in what would otherwise be an exceptional ipa, but if they say it is a red, shoot, who am I to object? Would a red by any other name, etc.

T: I have a hard time accepting this as a red given its hop profile. They should just call this an exceptional IPA and stop with the pageantry. Sure, you have the malts and all this yeast run around but I feel it is like when they put glasses and a ponytail on a really hot girl to set her out as a nerd. Problem is, beer drinkers, and adolescent youth (sometimes aligned) can see through these tactics. I want an unadulterated IPA, not this Red with her paint splattered overalls and beguiling Freddy Prinze Jr. crush. Call an IPA for what it is and she will love you more.

“Red ales are a fun style to enjo-” I don’t remember asking you a God damn thing. Red ales are for people who eat at B.J.’s not real binge drinkers.

M: Again, guess what, it has the mouthfeel of an IPA. This review feels like what Car and Driver must go through in reviewing the Firebird and the Camaro concurrently. It tastes like an IPA, it is an IPA, it’s here, it’s clear, get over it.

D: Picture a solid IPA, then add some mellowing malts to it and call it a red. There you go. It is exceptionally drinkable but its identity crisis warrants mentioning, over and over. I don’t know that this compels me to squeeze any nuggets, specifically, but its does make me wonder why this beer is not shipped to the California and we are left to sift through…oh wait…I see why this is not shipped to California.

“I like red ales because they are from Ireland, and so am I!!!” My face when-

Narrative: Jacob Walters could have showed up at Bull Run. He could have showed up at Appamaddox. As a union solider he basically could have enlisted wherever he was needed but, no, he held to his pride. You see, Jacob Walters preemptively joined the United State Air Force, a squadron that would not form until almost 100 years after he signed up for a union military. As a result, Jacob refused to fight in Antetam without aircraft, would not serve on Sherman’s march, absent air support, and was disinterested in any carpet bagging reconstruction unless he were flying a zepplin or a plane. He was a staunch air pilot and no civil unrest would wrench that from his grasp. If someone on the streets of Burmingham saluted him as an officer he would waft his hand and lightly reply “Red…I am a red…ale? Just call me RED ALE!” He was batshit crazy, but the military let him fly his ornithopter just the same.

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New Glarus Raspberry Tart, Get your Epipens, This is Going to Be a Sweet One

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People love this beer. Girls have 100% enjoyed this beer, every single time. Let’s clarify, not in a sexist generalization treating women as a homogenous group, I mean every girl that I have ever poured this for has really enjoyed it. I do not like this beer. When I am drinking beer, it is to forget about the puppy that urinates on everything in my life. When I am eating fruit, it is due to the guilt of drinking too much. Put simply, I don’t need these two worlds to collide in equal parity. New Glarus is the shit, but this beer is anything but. Anyway, step on these berries, let’s get it:

I lost my old pic of this beer, I took it with a Blackberry anyway, so you know that shit would have been in monochrome or something.

New Glarus Raspberry Tart 4.0% fruit beer

A: There is a deep ruby he that almost appears like a muted amber, huge deep red foamy carbonation that leaves very little lacing. There is miminal sheeting and this seriously just looks like a glass of juice or something you give to your toddler in a sippy cup. Hell, in Wisconsin, anything is possible. This beer is on some top 100 lists so apparently someone loves this beer. Some people liked the ending of Vanilla Sky too, fucked if I know.

I don’t know what needs more refinement, my palate or the gallons of fruit sugars in this beer. It’s perfect for the Wisconsin clubs, bottles in the basket pills in the plastic.

S: The bouquet smells overwhelmingly like raspberries, fruit preserves, sweet flowers, and a slight wine/cabernet finish. This is just already far too sweet, I can go buy a bag of Skittles, this just takes things to excessive levels.

T: The sweetness from the raspberries is present and accounted for, almost overwhelmingly. The sweetness has a cider character to it and subsides into an intense dryness with an incredible crisp finish like biting into a granny smith apple, only, raspberry.

I feel like I am too old for this beer or maybe it is reserved for people who read Marie Claire. The correlation is astounding.

M: The mouthfeel has zero coating, zero stickiness, and washes away crisp and clean. There isn’t a whole lot to comment on here since this beer barely toes inside the beer framework. I know there is a cadre of dedicated NG kids who love this beer, I am an adult, I don’t need to drink a cup of Torani syrup to enjoy a beer. Grow up, get high octane, or go the lambic route. This beer just wasn’t my jam, but I will preserve the record for others to PRODUCE.

D: If not for the sugary-juice overload, this would be a incredibly drinkable beer. It presents great utility to those “black sheep” or the XX chromosomal order who “don’t like beer” or “beer makes them feel bloated.” This is an undercover beer that emotes like a crisp cider and presents the ambrosial delight of a champagne. Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t buy this again or seek it out, but that’s largely due to the style. If I was on a boat with some dour faced sad girls, I would provide it like a benevolent Spuds Mckenzie.

This beer ganks your sweet zones with a robble robbel swag.

Narrative: ::TOOOOOT!!!:: the olde timey steam whistled hissed signaling the end of another shift. The stern overseer, Rose Juiceworthington, kept a watchful eye over the employees of the Smuckers’ canning line and made sure that her will was enacted to the T. “Williams! My office, NOW!” the loudspeaker boomed. Williams, soaked in mashed raspberries had a sweet winsome disposition, but a sordid past. “I have seen you down there, slowing on the mashing. . .what’s so funny?” Williams raised raised her glanced slowly, then swiftly smashed a can of raspberry preserves over Ms. Juiceworthington’s head, sending her cascading backwards into a molten pit of bubbling preserves. The gasps for breath made sweet gurgles and Williams nodded a sticky sweet approving nod, not to be confronted again.

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Maui Brewing Onion Mild, A BEER THAT WILL MAKE YOU CRY

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Today I am phoning it in with an old ass review. No one reads this site on the weekends anyway and frankly, you aren’t worth it. This beer is from Maui Brewing Company and, as far as I know, it doesn’t make it off the islands. I went to Maui and tried this strange anomaly while I was there. This is brewed with white Maui onions and, you can imagine what this tear jerker tastes like:

I lost the picture of the beer, enjoy a picture of some onions.

Maui onion mild 4.8% abv

A: Deep brown like an Altbier, but much thinner in character. The lacing is moderate with huge carbonation. If you didn’t know what was going on, you might think this was an amber ale, BUT YOU WOULD BE FUCKING WRONG.

I went to Maui and drank crazy ass beers, u mad bro.

S: This has caramel onions throughout, steak and toasted maltiness, it feels like a Mortons Steakhouse like an epic malted Gose with huge stickiness. If you were a 7th grader, your parents would smell this on you a mile away. One of a kind finish and smell. I ordered a Growler for myself just to relive the experience on the mainland. Epic scent.

T: It starts simply enough with a mild sweetness similar to a brown al- OH MY GOD YOU HAVE JUST ENTERED ONION PURGATORY. There is no escape, everything you touch and taste will be onion until your cells die off. The taste of this beer is similar to a Bloomin Onion from Outback Steakhouse, yes that outback, and pureed into liquid form. You get the roasted herbal dryness from the onions, with an odd burnt sweetness. Again, this is just relentless in scope and form.

Maui is all about sun, beer, and falling face down. Smelling like onions while doing that is just pushing things too far.

M: The mouthfeel is slim and watery until the evil genie of onion hatred is uncorked and unveils its evil designs on your social life. You could drink this all day long with its light coating and ABV, but the onion is a stern overlord requiring you to, specifically, spawn more overlords.

D: This is a tough call because I want to say that its delicious taste and light character belongs on a boat etc. but I have a legitimately hard time recommending this to someone in a huge quantity. I had 3 pints of it and I still sweat onion enzymes. I feel like a walking pool of magnesium. If your life can tolerate the smell and vices associated with onion addiction, I.e. you work at El Pollo Loco or Rubios, then by all means, endulge.

I smuggled this back into the mainland in my suitcase. Fuck da TSA.

Narrative: Warren only cried at weddings. And airplane movies. And swapmeets. In theory Warren cried a lot. In practice, this was involuntary. You see, poor Warren was born with defective tear glands. His negligent mother consumed onions day in and out with little Warren, as a fledgling seed in the womb. As a result, Warren would cry at the most commonplace occurrences. Some would see it is a defect, but you should see the look on his supervisor’s face when Warren would ebullient express tears of joy at the sight of fresh bagels in the break room. “Here I was just….looking at these OSHA posters and then, Alan goes and does all THIS!” He sobs gesturing towards the meager spread of picked over pastries. “This is all JUST TOO MUCH!”

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Cascade Strawberry, Just Kiss Me Through the Phone Strawberry Style

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Oh Cascade, you can be so helpful, or such a difficult minx. Sure, you offer most of your amazing sours online for purchase and that is as awesome as it comes. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER RELEASES? Then I have to actually go and FIND a PERSON to go get them for me. This is one such beer. What will I do when Figaro drops? What will I do then? Anyway, this brewery has a pretty stellar record for knocking out incredible sours like oh I don’t know:

Remember this club banger? Me either.

Anyway, so we have done cherries, we have done apricots, now let’s taste that sweet sticky strawberry. Things are getting sexy up on this page.

Don’t eat the green part of this beer, it makes you pregnant.

Cascade Brewing / Raccoon Lodge & Brewpub
Oregon, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV 7.39%

A: This has a nice radiant glow of deep amber and orange with a slight pinkish hue like rose`, Trey Songs be pouring up cups in the club. There’s minimal lacing and the carbonation is there but doesn’t show off. It posts in the corner just whittling a little wispy white profile.

Age probably won’t change this beer. It will still be strawberries and acidity 15 years from now.

S: This has an incredible berry profile with fresh skins, nice strawberry juiciness, kinda has a stripper scent to it, you know that pink dust that you can never get off of your clothes, I mean, not me, but I have heard. Smells like Bath and Body works meets a Farmer’s Market. The whole endeavor feels exceedingly gentle like a tableshower. You just Googled that shit.

T: This follows the traditional lactic Cascade formula and, while it usually works, this mutes the fruits and makes this come off as a kind of a generic tartness that could be really anything. I love the finish and the dryness but the whole strawberry aspect of this takes a backseat to the abusive acidic boyfriend that tells her what to wear and who she can have in her phone. This isn’t the best Cascade that I have had, but it is still a pretty dank offering. This tastes strangely similar to Sans Pagaie, so you Bruery lovers, just pop that and use your imagination. Feel me.

This is sour.

M: This has a nice prickly acidity that stings and delivers along the gumline but doesn’t take things to the Weyerbacher Riserva levels. It is balanced and pleasant to enjoy. I could see myself reading Parade magazine and drinking this, in about 50 years when my life has become meaningless. There’s a nice chardonnay quality and I am sure you could get a Delta Gamma pretty drilled off of this, but that’s not a feat to record in the annals. No typo.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and doesn’t give me the lambic guts. I enjoy just sitting back, listening to Diplo, mashing on some berries and wasting the night away. Your mileage may vary, you could show this to your friends and they think your dick is small, bent, and dark. Who knows. Final verdict: other Cascades are more accessible, and probably better, but this is still a BERRY GOOD BEER.

Sometimes I think my readers aren’t even strawberrying.

Narrative: Most exotic dancers don’t plan things as far in advance as Jezebel. Well, for starters, her legal name was “Jezebel” and that should show her parents’ limited knowledge of the Old Testament. She was All State in Hurdles and got 5’s on 6 different Advanced Placement tests, this was all a part of her grand design. “But why for you are to be in dancing and not in the college making?” her scarcely bilingual Ukranian co-worker once importuned. “Well you see, the State is broke, the Federal Government wants to offer me high interest loans, and desperate Cuban men pay hard cash immediately that is untaxed and does not need to be amortized,” Jezebel explained. “Oh, I am to like dancing but also would like to be making bakery,” Svetlana insightfully added. Some would look with an ill repute and disdain upon Jezebel’s Keynesian economic theory, but she studied during the day while her clientele were nursing their hangovers and danced at night for cold hard currency that she put in a Roth IRA to drive down her capital gains. Smelling like strawberry lip gloss all the time was not easy, but she was a refined exotic, yet entirely approachable in sum and substance.

2

Free State Old Backus Barleywine, Rolling With an MC Hammer Sized Entourage

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Alright, taking it back to the Free State on this one to show the midwest some love. On that subject, Midwest people always get toxic shock syndrome when I call Colorado “the midwest” apparently Oklahoma is not either, and Kansas must be DQ’ed by association? Can someone clear this ambiguous swath up for me? Is Montana the mid-west? Iowa? Anyway, fuck it, we are mashing out on barrel aged barleywines in today’s review, GROWLER ONLY NO BOTTLES (GONB) so you know this is colder than the fridge and the freezer, snatching up your bottles at my leisure

Look at that milky messy malty bomb. I got all the syrup.

Free State Brewing Co.
Kansas, United States
American Barleywine | 10.50% ABV

You read that right, I merked an entire 2 liter growler of this while playing Black Ops. That shit was Blackout Ops after 6 glasses.

Anyway, here’s the deal with this amazing barleywine:

Bronze Medal Winner, 1997 World Beer Championships – Barleywines.

Old Backus contains just over 2,000 pounds of malt and 55 pounds of hops. The original gravity is 25.6 P/1092 which contributes to an alcohol content of 10.5% by volume. This is a tremendously complex beer that should be savoured slowly and in moderation. It will continue to change with age as it is served unfiltered.

This barleywine is named after Richard Backus, an old friend to the Brewery.

This beer is older than your janky ass girlfriend, peep game.

A: Look. at. that. mess. God damn I have never seen such a murky, turbid barleywine. It seriously looks like the dregs from a homebrew fermentation tank BUT IN AN AMAZING WAY. There’s a nice amount of flotsam and jetsam that looks strangely decadent and alluring, like when Augustus Gloomp falls into the chocolate river. You know it is dirty, but you like it like that.

Hey so we are going to make a huge 10.5% abv barleywine oh yeah, and you can only drink it in 2 Liter format. Wait wat-

S: This smells flat out amazing. This runs with King Henry in terms of olfactory profile and just tosses hot shurikens of toffee, candied apples, brown sugar, butterscotch, Werther’s Originals, and sweet kisses from Nana. You judged me earlier for killing 2 liters of a 10.5% beer but YOU DONT KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH. This beer is official as hell, when you bite this beer, it bites back.

T: The hot 90 minute beats just keep rolling out with an amazing sticky caramel meets graham cracker soaked in chocolate milk aspect. That sounds pretty core, but trust me, when it is in liquid form, IT IS A READING FROM THE BOOK OF DANKERONOMY. The dankest book of the Old Testament.

When the Fedex guy came, I was all ears for the doorbell, knowing that my weekend was about to be destroyed by 2 liters of sticky heaven. Also, a growler came. Ba dum tish.

M: This is chewy and has a nice coating that breaks up malty buds and watches Groundhog Day with you. You get a huge candy presence and a decadent It is thick and roughs up your palate just enough so you know you need to come up with that money. I still think about this beer, is it Winter yet? I hope I still have hookups in Kansas. I crushed this growler like Bruce Banner.

D: See my previous statement and complete lack of restraint. We are talking about a fucking huge barleywine and I drilled the equivalent of 3 bombers while getting lit up by 12 year olds on Xbox live. While they have to rub one out to Mila Kunis, I get to mash on huge amazing barleywines. The world order is restored. I want to tell you not to get this beer so that there is more for me the next time it is on draft, but many of you are mouthbreathers without Fedex accounts so I will say this: this sits in my top 5 top barleywines. Think about that shit.

Killing a growler of this will erase all signs of bother.

Narrative: Old Jim Backus listened to Iron Maiden and operated a C&C Corrugated Iron Punchpress for a living. For 12 hours a day he would drill steel and eat Hungryman dinners for lunch. We are talking about over a pound of food, as indicated on the packaging. James Backus once had a supervisor who disapproved of him dipping and smoking at the same time on the worksite, 3 days later, that supervisor joined the Coast Guard. No one could figure out why. Jim never said much but he always ate a huge Abba Zabba with his lunch and far be it for his co-workers to question Jim’s actions. He was a hardass but somehow, people knew that he was sweet to the core. One of his hobbies was going to scrapyards and finding items to spot weld into playground equipment for disadvantaged children. Sure they often cut themselves on the jagged aluminum edges, but Jim wouldn’t have any pussy children horsing around on his iron sculptures of punitive diversion. Old Backus was a bad ass, just dont ask for a piece of his Abba Zabba.