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East End Brewing Gratitude, This Barleywine is Gratuitously Good, Completely Excessive

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I was always stymied by the rare offering. At the outset you have releases to the tune of 700ish bottles and everyone trades hard for these but then I heard it was NOT BARREL AGED. I was a skeptic until I had an epic barleywine showdown and it drilled other BA contenders and made the horrible Lift Bridge Commander look like a bottle of Zima. This beer rips open malt anuses and delivers a sweet panache that can’t be imitated:

The person in the background seemed a bit GRATUITOUS.

East End Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Barleywine | 11.50% ABV

What you know about that blue wax 2009 vintage dog? Gripping two clips, sliding barleywine heaters in the 2 seater.

A: This has an amazing turbid aspect to it that is not unlike BA Old Backus barleywine. The sheeting is pretty modest and, for a 3 year old beer it maintained the carbonation in a legitimate manner. This is what Paul Wall would floss with in a CL mercedes, it is classy but not as overstated as 808 drums. Just look at that muddy baby, you want to pinch its cheeks and take a smooch.

Despite the lack of barrel aging, this beer is mature for its age.

S: This has an incredible waft to it, milk chocolate, chocolate milk, melted raisinettes, sweet brown sugar, and cream of wheat made with a sweet smooch. I love this beer and this might be the best non-BA Barleywine that I have ever had, srsly, it is that bomb, you don’t even need to cut the red or the yellow wire.

T: This has an incredible taste with a light caramel char, dark cherries, plums, some notes akin to a quad, but it still maintains that brown sugar profile that makes it unmistakably a fantastic barleywine. This may have started as an American barleywine but, after a few years the hops have really mellowed into just a light citrus that makes this beer incredible through and through.

Hey guys, tonight we are going to open a dank non-BA barleywine
Oh cool bro.

M: This is exceedingly thin for the style but, given the huge malt blasters firing on all 8 cylinders in the taste profile, the tires hit the pavement hard. The thin nature of this beer doesn’t mean that it isn’t a freak in the palate sheets and the abv is the sneaky camera man capturing the whole thing without your knowledge or consent.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, especially with some age on it. I don’t know if you could pass this off on novice beer drinkers but anyone at the Hop head level or above would love the robust sticky sweet character of this beer and merk it mercilessly. You ever seen ABC’s groundbreaking drama “Switched at Birth?” no? Ok, then you are qualified to drink this amazing beer.

wale whale whalez. What rare ass barleywine are we enjoying today?

Narrative: Dwayne was the best employee at the EZ Lube in Sante Fe. Fram filters, synthetics, high mileage he knew it all. Sure it seemed like a pedestrian task, that is until the average person tried to do it themselves, suddenly that old SL500 wasn’t so useful sitting like a hunk of overpriced german steel in the driveway. One fortuitous day, Dwayne was on his way to work and noticed a plume of smoke on the horizon. “OH MY GOD.” He pulled up to the scene of the tragedy and saw them all just stopped there, dead in their tracks, the death rattle of heroes that had seen better days. “WHAT’S THE SITUATION HERE?!” he called to the police officers as he ran over to them. “Well they just started making a little tick and-” Dwayne ripped open the hood of each stalled car and found that each had been negligently filled with 10W-30, INSTEAD OF 10W-40. “Oh for the love of gargbhhh-” the mere scene made him vomit on the side of the road. He swiftly went to work on a quick flush and replaced the oil in record time. “Thanks kid, you really saved the day today, now we can go shut down that Stem Cell Research protest, you’re a real hero, you know that? Not us today, you Dwayne.” The cars glamed as the exhaust resonated through the strip mall. Dwayne was the best damn 20 minute hero that $8.25 per hour could buy. His side job at the caramel factory seemed downright pedestrian by contrast; he was a brilliant genius that people overlooked far too often.

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Squatters’ Fifth Element, Bruce Willis is Wilding Out So Hard on this Saison

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At first I saw some stir in the trade boards for this elusive gem and thought nothing of it. THEN I LOOKED DEEPER. It wasn’t the low bottle counts, the sky high ratings, or the fact that it is my particular favorite style of beer; it was a love for Chris Tucker. Ok not really, but this is an amazing farmhouse, so let’s hit the barn hard in today’s review:

This approaches that amazing Fantome ghost level status saison, consumed by Latter Day Saints.

Squatters Pub Brewery
Utah, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.75% ABV

Fifth Element is a delightfully complex and rustic “Old World” style Belgian farmhouse ale. Aged in American oak barrels for a year and bottle conditioned, this artisan Belgian ale is sure to refresh.

A: This has an amazing look to it that is all saison, all funky turbid glowing radioactive hay with substantial foam and lacing. This is what I imagine a Vengaboys concert to look like, potentially Aqua. The hues remind me of glowsticks once your crack them open, straight up radiant.

Wait for the next Squatter’s release? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

S: This is all sharp citrus, lemon zest, l’orange, pomplemousse, nice grapefruit with funky Sunkist zest and a bready cornbread aspect to it. Whip up the Bisquik and start serving saison fiends in the trap.

T: This has an incredibly refreshing light citrus aspect to it with brett, lingering acidity, hay musk, there’s some light pepper and cloves but the citrus and dryness is really what impresses here, it just registered the domain Bomb.edu because it educates you in all things bomb. I really wish the bottle counts on this weren’t so ridiculous because I would hazard a trip to Utah to make this happen. I don’t ski and I drink caffeine so I might not fit in, but i could always buy a Costco membership and a trampoline and fake it. Mormons always get the nicest things.

I need my go go juice sweet saison booboo.

M: This is exceptionally dry but the acidity and light wheat profile makes this an exceptionally well rounded beer that reminds me quite a bit of Fantome Pissenlit and potentially a less dry version of Hill Farmstead E. This beer sits in nice ass company like how Two Chainz ruins every song but gets on tracks with Yay and Darke. Except that this beer is amazing, unlike Two Chainz.

D: I merked this bottle faster than Calvin Broadus, murder was the case this beer gave me. I want more but I feel it gauche to just demand it given the low bottle numbers and hand bottled status. If you open one, you will understand, this just gets drained relentlessly like lipo from Persian housewives in Bev Hills. I WANT TO GET DRAINED A SECOND TIME. Close the Brazzers tab, we spitting real Saison game on the musky tip.

I NED MOAR OF THES SASON. Srlsly guize. Srsly.

Narrative: “Damnit Devin, this Babylon 5 convention has no hot chicks here.” “Well what the hell did you expect?” The two were quite a pair, Devin and Pao. One was complex and foreign, the other was white, bland, and thick. “In the show, there are some sexual overtones but, I don’t think I have ever met a female fan of this series.” Pao ran his fingers through his shiny black hair, the halogen lights reflecting off of his tier 5 press pass. The two scanned the packed convention hall full of middle aged, mouth breathing fan boys. “The Centauri are kinda hot“ Pao offered consolingly. “Oh wait…tits…those are definitely tits.” The ceramic chest piece turned to reveal four prosthetic breasts on a woman whose gender was certainly already questionable absent any alien garb. “Ok, no, this is exotic and fun, but ultimately, a forgettable experience. I just can’t do this anymore.” Devin ran through the double doors. As he left Pao introduced himself to the shows executive producers, two stunning German girls of Conneticutian descent who later invited him back to the Marina Del Rey Sheritan.

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Brouwerij Het Alternatief The Bitter Truth Tripel IPA, You Can’t Handel The Truf

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I don’t remember ever having this beer, and I lost the picture that I took of it. This tells me that this 10% heater did its job. Anyway, let’s sip this esoteric gem in today’s review, THIS BEER BE THE TRUTH.

This isn’t my picture, but since we are telling the truth, truthfully you probably don’t give a shit.

Brouwerij Het Alternatief
Belgium
Belgian IPA | 10.00% ABV

The Bitter Truth, Tripel 10% 70 ibu

A: Faint chardonnay yellowish faint gold with very thin character similar to a thin lager. HUGE head with carbonation throughout. The carbonation might be my favorite part of this beer, which sounds strange but it is executed perfectly.

This beer is a little strange, BUT YOU SECRETLY LIKE IT.

S: Lots of pepper and spice, some clove, mild sugars and tart white grapes. This isn’t your standard Triple IPA offering, but I enjoy it.

T: A sweet white wine savignon blanc taste opens with a tart grape that fades into a peppery finish. Great mild hops round out the profile.

This beer, like Latonja, don’t give a fuck.

M: This has a great mouthfeel between the constant carbonation and thin mouthfeel it equates to a strangely balanced and original Tripel that almost leans toward the Gueuze. Very tasty and seems more west-coast than Belgian in character. Love the tart dryness that it imparts.

D: This is an exceptionally drinkable beer with great lasting appeal. The price is a bit too much to make it a session beer but the 10% abv makes it a contender for a great well-rounded beer. I would love to bring this along for a hot weather activity and other venues. The more that I drink it the smoother and milder it gets, I love the tart character that is akin to a sour cuvee.

Picture unrelated.

Narrative: Tipper Poppington was born a proletariat merchant assistant with a secret . He worked hard all his days, overseeing the notary, making sure the itemized bundles were packaged correctly, sealing all the correspondence with the hot wax seal. He wasn’t the best in the office, or the brightest, or even the most amiable. However, young Tipper was born under a conditional will from his great great grandfather which stated that if Tipper could become a fencing master by the age of 21, he would take his grandfather’s large estate, heretofore unbeknownst to him, and win the heart and mind of the winsome female interest in the clerking office. He was alerted on his 20th birthday with a knock on a rich mahogany door. The package contained a terse note wrapped around a perfectly balanced Epee, “train you will, take you shall,” with a copy of the holographic will attached. “God speed, Young Poppington” the clerk master whispered to himself as he watch Tipper practice fervishly in the courtyard, each parry a daunting swipe at greatness, and the heart of his beholden.

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Ballast Point Sea Monster Imperial Stout, Drowning you in Chocolate and Dark Malts

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Call me Ishmael, constantly seeking stoutwales but coming across langoliers.

Sea monster
Ballast Point Brewing Company
California, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 10.00% ABV

A: Sleek, ink black, with a little transparency. Not an exceptional amount of carbonation, just a menacing lacing sitting on top of the rim, warning the latent power lurking below. Nice lacing, sticky and antagonistic.

When a stout this big hits you, you feel it.

S: There is a toffee/sour finish with an incredible amount of coffee and wood notes. There is a whiskey and bourbon note that wafts above the thick head like an ice cube sitting upon a glass of gin. As a side note, the version of this aged on whiskey chips is amazing, seek it out immediately. Call Ballast Point and demand it.

T: There is a noteworthy chocolate and anise/licorice profile. This beer is as black as Satan’s magic, a thick chocolate milk head imparts its flavor, then oak jumps into the fray with its drying effects. Nice coffee notes resound and add drying effects. Its effect remains throughout the proceedings.

For the uninitiated, a stout this big might not fit their palate amiably. Get used to it.

M: The mouthfeel coats in a huge way. There is a oily thick particulate effect to the stout. The coffee and burnt raisins just coat and linger, making up a remarkable base camp with occasional visits from smokiness and chocolate. Strangely the body isn’t exceptionally thick but it has sticky coating. Which is unusual given the strange balance.

D: Despite the crazy nature of this beer, it remains exceptionally drinkable for the style. While it coats in a huge way and certainly wouldn’t feel at home in a 6 pack, it has a great disposition that makes you want to take another sip. Most people would shy away due to an unfamiliarity with style or an aversion to the menacing black character, however, for those tried and true, this is certainly worth the outing, maybe even 2 bombers.

This isn’t a milk stout, but it still delivers extreme satisfaction. Not a shelf wale, a shelf Monster.

Narrative: Skip was born jet black, without a white belly. His inky black eyes showed permeable anger, the other Emperor Penguins mocking him. His beak clenched watching the others feed upon cephalopods. “Look at them, their proud plumage, mocking me like sneetches without stars upon thars, I will show them.” Skip was advanced for his age and, despite his lack of opposable thumbs, has fashioned an ice shiv from the shearing of an errant glacier. “I will show them the true darkness of their ways.” No one would mate with Skip and rumored his jet black eggs that would result. He had a sweet core and a lighthearted personality, but no one would give him the benefit of the doubt. Skip burned with the rage of a Patagonia summer. We will see whose cold is imparted this winter, that of my black coat, or that of black death. He gripped his shiv knowingly, awaiting the grip of the winter.

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3 Floyd’s Dark Lord, Yes Regular Old Darklord, No Vanilla, No Bourbon, No Brandy Just The Lord Himself.

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Well I already did Vanilla Bourbon Dark Lord so we might as well backtrack and hunt down the more accessible offerings so that we know where these whales come from. Some people love this big monster. It sits on the top 100 with two variants of itself and smiles knowingly at the uninitiated. If you do not have extensive experience with 1) imperial stouts and 2) insulin administration, then you need not apply. Let’s burn a somber offering to the Darkest of Lords in today’s review.

I have had multiple vintages of this but I can’t find pics of them, so here’s a pic of the bottle I drew in MS paint for you. Enjoy.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. / Brewery & Pub
Indiana, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 15.00% ABV

A: thick but not black finish, more like a warm melted brown sugar deep brown, light passes through in a deep mahogany at the edges. This isn’t the most viscous beer that I have ever seen but you can tell it is up to something, the way it swallows the carbonation whole and envelops all signs of lacing.

The dark lord be peepin like a sweet sugar daddy.

S: There is a huge, high heat, sweet coffee and tart toffee notes, with wafty boozy notes. To say that it is sweet smelling would be akin to saying that Sasha Gray is mildly attractive. This has dark fruits, soy sauce aspects, and a strange maltball smell to it like melted whoppers. I got my epipens ready.

T: Wow, several layers to this beast. At the outset it feels like Chocolate Rain Jr. It has a huge malty sweetness, some dark fruits, molasses and sugar, brown nuts, melted cane sugar, 85% chocolate, light dryness, sticky brown sugar, and just incredibly sweet. Imagine if you took all the balance out of Chocolate Rain and then left all the residual sugars without any malts to support this track racer. This beer reminds me of my friend who once put dual engines in a MKII VW Golf, it was insane, loud, overpowered and completely unbalanced. You can’t take it anywhere, no one knows what to do with it, but some people like it like that.

This seems hardcore at first, then you realize it is just a misunderstood sweetheart.

M: there is nice coating that is not overly filling. Ultimately the sweetness is overriding and almost too much, but I enjoy the extremes. This seems like it would clearly be more enjoyable if aged, it is tough to knock it for my own lack of patience. I feel that it lives up to the hype for sheer ambition and amazing execution. However, my experience has been that this beer needs at least 3 years to relax, otherwise those residual sugars take you to the candy shop. It seriously reminds me of thin coffee with too much Sugar In The Raw added to it.

D: This suffers the most simply because I am a jumpy bastard and didn’t let it age. Well guess what, boo hoo, don’t put beer out that isn’t ready to be dranken. But seriously, I have to mark down the 2011 simply because it is, a 2011. The 2012 was even more insane. I bet something like the 2008 would be chocolate sex, but I don’t have the time or patience for that nonsense. It is awesome now, but sublime later, like those hateful smart girls you neglected so fully in geometry.

Everytime Darklord slays a soul, your hypoglycemic index goes up.

Narrative: Among the most challenging items on a daily basis that faced J.P. Cacoaworth was how to close the daily deal. Each day when he walked into his spacious corner office he took a hot snifter of bourbon and ruminated over the idea of closing the deal. Sometimes J.P. was as sweet as a candyman, providing settlement documents with a sticky panache. Sometimes he put the heat on and pressured the other party in by hectoring their better sense. He was a calm master of his trade, patient and full of sweet heat. Some would say that aluminum siding can sell itself, but they likely have not met the petulant master of faux wood coverings. “WELL IF THEY THINK THAT THEY CAN GET MOUNTING BRACKETS FROM ME FOR FREE, THEY HAVE NOT MET THE HATEFUL GOD OF WINDOW COVERINGS AND I WILL FLY DOWN ON MY BLACKENED CHARIOT OF RAGE AND IMPART FIREY SWEETNESS ONTO THEIR CUL DE SAC.” Today was a sweet day.

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Kona Longboard Island Lager, Hitting the Salty Curl and Getting so Pitted, No Barrels Brah.

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It is hot out, your mouth wants a lager. Admit it. I don’t mean Kuhnhenn Raspberry Eisbock or something crazy, I mean a regular old pale lager. Admit it. In today’s review, we see how it stays light out later in the summer. We learn how the other side drinks with an American Pale Lager. We learn to stand in someone else’s flipflops.

I had this in Maui, appropriately enough. This picture is probably from somewhere in Fresno.

Longboard island lager
Kona Brewing Co.
Hawaii, United States
American Pale Lager | 4.60% ABV

A very light pale gold color with a thin yellow pallor, open any mainstream lager, and well, there you go. What else do you want me to say? When was the last time you poured a pale lager into a glass and had to go retrieve your socks, having them knocked clean off? That’s what I though, Reality Czech, but that doesn’t count. Not a bad looking beer, but a solid type of girl who shops at Forever 21 and begins sentences with “not even gonna lie-” that sort of pedestrian shallowness is what we are dealing with here.

Whenever I hate on pale lagers, the mouthbreathers get all up in arms and defend session beers. Raters gonna rate.

S almost nothing a slight lemon and a hint of bread, water is the overriding note. What does water smell like? Like the salty pipe when you are carving so hard on the barrel getting so pitted. Water smells like a Point Break marathon. It also smells like Trumer Pils, Rolling Rock, Beck’s, those all smell like water+x.

T the taste is very fleeting and imparts a light honey and apple character overall it is water and thin croissant notes. I would make up something flambuoyant or clever but there simply is nothing here but a mild initial taste with a crisp finish. It’s like biting into a malty piece of celery. It is super refreshing and I can see models and size 0 women enjoying this beer judiciously, watching it turn warm in their palms since it serves as a perfect prop so as to say “look, I am slumming it and not drinking a cosmo because the setting dictates such.” It is refreshing and you can drink, well you really would HAVE to drink several, for the desired effects.

Not everything that happens on the beach is a good idea.

M there is almost nothing to comment on, it is exceptionally thin with no coating. The bubbles cascade the limited flavors up and about but, like most Drama club kids, it just doesn’t bring a lot to the table. I would say a Gose would remind me of a longboard, but the limited sweet notes would probably be pretty enjoyable on a hot day. You know what else reminds me of longboards? Long Beach, and no one wants to be reminded of that foul den of iniquity and Sublime fans.

D this is great for manual labor or pushing nerds into trashcans. I can see its refreshing character as having some utility, but the fact is that there are more delicious ways to attain refreshment. Witnessing a high school sophmore deliver a book report on Island of the Blue Dolphins is refreshing, but hardly rewarding. Such is the case with this beer.

SKERLER WE NEED MORE FLAVERS. WE ARE IN DANGER.

Narrative: Tatum’s parents got divorced at age 8, they said it wasn’t his fault. He never got those Streetsharks action figures that he always wanted, he knew it wasn’t his fault. He got placed as a second string nose guard when he was a Senior on the football team, he convinced himself it wasn’t his fault. Somehow, this lackluster individual carried on day by day. He worked diligently at Blockbuster Video, until Netflix arrived and, that really wasn’t his fault either. Ultimately, Ohio’s economy had too many Tatum’s, too many Skylers, too many Aidens, Braydens, Jaydens, Haydens, Maydens, Raidens; but I digress. His strength was his utter lack of individuality. These days, when you get your auto insurance claim handled just appropriately enough, that was the sweet work of Tatum. Update: his job will soon be outsourced.

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New Glarus R and D Gueuze, S you in your A’s, don’t wear a C, and J all over your B’s

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A gueuze? From Wisconsin? Let me hold your horses for you, because I know everyone is gonna get all up in arms about how this is only a “belgian style” imitation of a “real gueuze” and all the trappings that come with that madness. Take a deep breath. I know, this isn’t a blend of three different years of lambic, shhh, hush. People in the midwest need nice things too, so let’s just proceed under the impression that this awesome beer can be called a gueuze, everyone wins in today’s review.

Do you enjoy fine print on your beer bottles? Well sir, you are in luck.

New Glarus Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.20% ABV

1,900 bottles
Brewed March 24, 2009
Bottled August 6, 2010

Brewed in the tradition of the Lambics of Belgium but using a blend of Ale Yeast, Brettanomyces, Lactobacillus, Pediococcus, and Acetobacter. These microorganisms came from our culture collection as well as many collected by Dan around the wilds of Wisconsin! Fermented and aged in Oak. This beer spent the summer of 2009 aging outdoors in used oak barrels, then bottle fermented.

A: The glass has a strange murkiness to it with a clear yellow hue and fluffy white lacing. It is more carbed than I was expecting for the style but, no complaints resounded through the mahogany walls. You’d probably like a picture of the pour right? Well too damn bad, I took that pic with a Blackberry, you’re lucky those janky things even had a camera at all.

This is a blend of some familiar aspects of different styles, but the result is still equally bad ass.

S: There is a tart Ginger ale smell to it. It is not exactly acerbic, but it is certainly sour. Is it the most sour Belgian offering that I have come across? No. But it is not disappointing. There are small bubbles that break and cascade artfully like a Rubens painting. This is just one note granny smith apples, not exceptionally funky or complex, but as refreshing as puppy chow when those Social Security checks run out.

T: Again, this is not overly tart but it has a great grape skin quality to it. There is an element of mild drying some white grape on the finish, but redundancy is redundant. There’s not that big doghouse musk to it that I look for in funky gooezy oferings, but the tartness and acidic lemon zest aspects make this wild ale pretty enjoyable, just not altogether a “gueuze” per se.

My face when this beautiful wild ale hit my glass, straight cowabunga.

M: After the mellow “gueuze” taste, which was more pedio with a slight acidity (read: not gueuze) it mellowed out into this thin, wispy crackling Pan that enchanted the nostrils more than the palate. It doesn’t coat, it doesn’t dry, it just rolls in, hangs out for 4 seconds and then peaces out, leaving its card on your Ikea coffee table. That is all.

D: Given the fact that this beer is so non-commital, it is a great Bachelorette Contestant, but it is a substandard gueuze. I don’t feel that this imparts enough to be worth the effort to obtain it. This is a great beer but trades for much higher than it imparts. You could land a Tilquin or a 3F Oude Gueuze and be all set. Take it with a grain of salt but this is not my favorite representation of the style and there must be a BETTER WAY. But seriously, I don’t feel like paying Lexus premiums for a Prius. This is good, just not as good as the hype would declare.

It would take a hell of a lot of gueuze to get you to this level, usually you are doubled over in a different position.

Narrative: “I like the pink room next to the PURPLE ROOOO-” The new season of the Bad Girls Club would be taxing on Jeremiah’s nerves, for another 3 months. It wasn’t the girls, it wasn’t running the camera, it was just the incessant vapid statements that pulled him limb from limb. “I’m just saying like, not even gonna lie, if someone ever, ok let’s just say, no one can run this place-” He counted the subordinate phrases, not a single statement to be derived from entire sentence. The sweetness of the premise, the light tartness of the girls in passing conversation, and the smell of chardonnay throughout the house was welcoming. “OH NO SHE DI’NT! I AM FINNA SHOW HER WHAT TIME IT ISSSS!!!” but ultimately, this offering was not a show at all really, it was a conglomerate of other base emotions melded into a single unerring gaze through fake eyelashes and colored contact lenses.

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Olde Hickory Eiraphriotes Imperial Pilsner, Reality Czeck meets Temptation

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Every single time that I get one of these Olde Hickory bottles I know that it is going to be herculean effort to get them open. Even their normal beers like the imperial stout uses no fewer than 12 coats of wax to seal the bottles. Who are these fervent North Carolina collectors that require this level of sealing? In today’s outing we have foil, a gold seal, and a Pontiff certificate of Authenticity that I had to deal with before I could give this beer the business. Imperial Pilsners are srs bzness.

How did I celebrate IPA day? With a chardonnay barrel aged imperial pilsner, of course.

Olde Hickory Brewery
North Carolina, United States
American Double / Imperial Pilsner | 7.50% ABV

A: The appearance is dull tangerine orange with nice lacing and foamy carbonation. I had some cling but that was due to the fact that I used as dirty a tulip as possible. This is required by my Carolina contingency, so I can only abide. It looks more like a DIPA than a pilsner but, I don’t miss the yellow hues. I think we are better off without one another, like your iPhone and the Grinder app.

This beer is so extreme, even the chardonnay is imperial pilsner

S: Wait, this is a pils- oh ok, CHARDONNAY barrel aged imperial pilsner. Things are making sense now. This is a pilsner in the same way that a Mitsubishi Evo X is a 4 door compact car. Like people who drink chardonnay, this smell dominates the entire conversation and the muted honey and conbread aspects take a backseat while you listen to a dry narrative about how HARD it is to raise kids as a working parent. It isn’t off putting but, your mind wanders.

T: The dryness from the Chardonnay is like a Jehova’s Witness visit to the OBGYN. There’s a nice oakiness and a tart white grape aspect that is draped lovingly over the tableau of light hops, biscuit malt, Bisquik chalkiness, and a a sweet roll finish. It is a strange hybrid but, innovation comes at the stress upon the trapezius of experience.

White wine and powered up pilsners? My face be all like-

M: This is not as dry in the overall aspect as my earlier simile would connote. It is dry, but it is also hoppy and sweet at the same time. This tug of war match is like Wild N’ Krazy Kids, where the adults are seldom triumphant. The winner is the sweet notes as it warms and the consumer is edified as a result.

D: Despite the abv, and dryness, and crazy chimera that is presented, is exceptionally drinkable. I don’t know if the 750ml fancy schmancy bottle lends itself to drinakbility, but I ball hard so it is sessionable for me, the average poor ass consumer without alcohol problems might not agree but to them I say, how did you end up on this site? Did you Google Channing Tatum sex tape? Well here we are.

This beer is a big refreshing blast to the face.

Narrative: the premise is that Dionysus has an evil twin, that doesn’t drink. The two switch roles on a blind date, or something. My liver hurts too much to flesh this one out today, do your own work.

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Three Floyd’s Barrel Aged Owde Engwish Bahwey Whine, One of 261 Bottles, RARleywine.

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You know when Three Floyd’s puts something in a barrel you are in for either an amazing treat, or something you hype up to your friends to convince yourself that giving up a Chocolate Rain was worth it. Don’t worry FFF, you guys nailed it with this one and I loved this bourbon club banger. Some people might not be able to roll with this and they clutch their King Henry’s and enjoy all their stout notes in their barleywines but forget all that, let’s sip some Owde Engwish 800 in today’s review.

You know you are heading into the winzip territory when the brewery straight up didn’t even make a label for the bottle you are drinking.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. / Brewery & Pub
Indiana, United States
English Barleywine | 12.20% ABV

A: This has a nice turbid shine to it like a liquefied caramello with some Werther’s original gloss on the surface. The outside is candy and it smell sweet, AR-15 is on the passenger seat. The carbonation leaves something to be desired but, Megan Fox has weird toe thumbs, you gotta let some things slide.

This is an advanced beer, if your friends are still in the hophead stage, have them look this beer up on their Internet Explorer browser page computer seeing device.

S: The smell is amazing and presents itself like a surly toy class breed with charred brown sugar, fuji apple, vanilla, bourbon, hot hot heat, toasted marshmallow, and some sticky sweet caramel rounds out the experience. If you’ve ever kissed a 7th grader with braces, you’ll know what I am talking about. If you did that recently, maybe you are on the wrong website.

T: The taste brings the heater in the two seater and lights up the bitter and the sweet zones. The amps all go to 11. You get a hot bourbon aspect that I thoroughly enjoyed, you also get some bonus vanilla, creme brulee, oak, and candy apples. Girls debate how many bathing suits to bring to Vegas, guys debate how many bottles of BA Barleywine is enough. Neither question is ever answered adequately.

This is a big beer, but it is surprisingly gentle and caring.

M: The mouthfeel is incredibly dry and scorching in a fully entertaining way. It’s like going to an All That Remains show where it is over the top metal with scorching hot licks that you can’t get enough of. For those unacquainted with this style it is like when Sega Genesis came out it was like seeing fucking burst processing for the first time. I got my bursts processed so hard. This is hot and dry, like euphemism simile quip punchline.

D: This is a tough beast to wrangle but I, in the minority opinion, would really enjoy taking a bomber of this to myself. Most people will get barleywine toxic shock syndrome and complain that it is too big, too confrontational, but fuck all that, what were you expecting with a Three Floyd’s Barrel Aged Barleywine? This isn’t some Ryan Seacrest jaunt in the park, this is a malt balls to the wall massacre. You can either love it or leave it. I LOVE GETTING MY MALT CUBES STEPPED ON.

I am trying to drink several beers in a night and this rude ass barleywine just gets me all drunk. Inconsiderate ass beer.

Narrative: Sophia Jergens was a solid clutch shooter for the women’s water polo team. Some argued that it was her gangly appendages, her lanky fingers, or her outturned hips that allowed her to tread water; regardless, she came through when her team needed it. The locker room sessions were overly awkward. She had a slight hunch to her shoulders, and the rest of the team was markedly beautiful. “Ayn den I was shooitin de bawl aye was!” she drolled in her cockney accent that irritated coach and fan alike. She was a brash, uncouth, rough individual in a league of panache and finesse. “Oye me legs be gold panning the wayter like whales’ baleen it is! Ain’t trimmed the kudzu back in many a score!” she attempted to pun with her disgusting stubbly legs. Sure, she was a bit too offputting for her team, but she came through in the clutch, where it mattered.

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Russian River Brewing Framboise for a Cure, The Perfect Cure for Those Thursday Blues

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Alright before everyone starts bitching and pulling out their cellar penises: YES, this is batch 2. This is the old “Temptation” base not the “Beatification/Sonambic” base that all the fanboys rave about but guess what- IT IS STILL DELICIOUS AND PRETTY rartastic so let’s stomp smashing each other’s raspberries and get on with today’s review. For the cure.

The sales benefit breast cancer, the beer cures my lingering sobriety.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.50% ABV

A: Holy radioactive hell, call the mayor of Raspberry Town because his test subject from the lab has escaped. The hue is overwhelmingly beautiful and I am sure you could use this to light your way if you every got lost at a dark Filipino rave. It is straight up Mariana Trench bright luminescence with pinks and radiant Lisa Frank binder hues. One of the prettiest beers that I have ever seen.

I was already enjoying Temptation, and then Raspberry Dubstep happened.

S: This has a nice tart berry at the outset and a waft of lingering fruit dryness like a Farmer’s Market gone horribly right. The whole thing beckons like an acidic smoothie. There is a slight earthy note that isn’t funk but isn’t quite the berries themselves, let’s just assume it is ground up stems and seeds and sticks, put it in the air.

T: The taste is incredibly tart with a lactic aspect to it but the fresh berries balance things out and offer a good palate/bad palate routine that works well. I got a hint of Chardonnay but it’s like hearing the organ in a song by the Murder City Devils, you really have to look for it, the whole affair is dominated by fresh, tart raspberry preserves.

This beer is incredibly strong, but gentle at the same time.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and puckering not in the same acid range as those hot lambics or that asshole Sch. Kriek, but still holds its own with a light finish that leaves a lasting acrimonious memory and some signed raspberry headshots in your palate’s studio to remember them by.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you might even be able to do it without a Mylanta chaser. It is incredibly simple in execution and lacks some of the funk and musk that some of the Eastern gems bring, but the raspberries and fresh acidic finish are too good to pass up. For all the problems that I had with Temptation, both of them, are remedied in this format with an awesome Oops! all berries panache. I will donate plenty of money for cures if this is the recompense. NPR needs to start just kicking out lambics for their members and watch how short those pledge drives would be.

I can see this beer changing over time into something magnificent.

Narrative: Macualay Culkin gritted his frail mandible and threw the copy of US! Weekly into the fireplace of his spacious 1 bedroom Koreatown apartment. “ADDICTED TO HEROIN!?” he thought to himself and looked at his sunken, pale features. “Look at you man! You’re the picture of good health, Mac!” The crimson rifts in his eyes pumped all white aspects a pale pink. “Sure, I might look a little gaunt once in a while, but living in Los Angeles, am I supposed to be in the sun all the time?” A paparazzi flashbulb pierced his flimsy IKEA curtains and he pulled them closed. “I know what to do! I must appear as the paradigm of health to my loyal fans.” He collected a biographical work concerning the expulsion of the Huguenots from the Bourbon Empire and a big bottle of raspberry juice. He headed directly to the Grove and attempted to look non-chalant while grimacing at the taste of real fruits. He could not understand a single word about the Edict of Nantes and looked nauseous the entire time. Next week’s issue of US! Weekly read “Kevin McCallister FALL FROM GRACE! IN DETOX WITH RASPBERRY JUICE AND UNREADABLE LITERATURE!” He lithely held his hands to his cheeks and muttered a faint “erghhhhh-“