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Hill Farmstead Society and Solitude #4, If You Haven’t Seen Parts 1-3 You Might Not Be Able to Follow

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I know, I know. In my Fear and Trembling review I said I would ratchet back on the Hill Farmstead reviews, but a DIPA this good and the generosity that I have unexpectedly incurred warranted some sticky new hop beats for the club. Can’t leave hops alone the game needs me.

If you don’t like drinking REAL juice, and Wakefield Berliners are too nutritious for you, this will do JUST FINE.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: This has that classic Hill Farmstead milkiness to it with a creamy opaque orange glow that is turbid and frothy at the same time. There’s a ton of sticky lacing with generous carbonation that stacks and layers like US Weekly magazines in a hoarder’s home.

The number of amazing beers from this brewery is too damn high. Add some filler once in a while, brew a red ale or something.

S: The smell is incredible with notes of tangelo, grapefruit rind, tangerines, and blood orange. The pine aspect is muted but oversees and doesn’t micromanage, the sign of a true leader. The subordinate malts seem light and support the olfactory profile like a keystone in a Gothic cathedral.

T: This has a nice citrus aspect to it that is lighter than Abner in the fistfulls of pine needles, the citrus aspect is unmistakably well done and starts to infringe upon the classic Citra taste that I have become so indoctrinated to. The orange rind lingers as though there was pithy orange peels tossed into the boil, but I somehow know that they did with with no adjuncts, Vermont rolls au natural with a nice supple hop rack.

Unlike your horrible Comcast internet, this beer has always got you covered.

M: The mouthfeel has a dry oiliness from the hops that imparts an acidic bite and lingers, handing out fliers to the exiting taste buds. The entire affair is incredibly pleasant and the 750ml growler seems inexplicably too small as a result. The greatest problem in this review would be separating this amazing DIPA from their other incredible entries, Double Citra, Abner, Galaxy, the list goes on. I would say that this is better than Abner and Double Citra, but falls just short of Galaxy single hop. It is robust but presents a great diversity that keeps it memorable. At this point though, it is like selecting WHICH Lambo best expresses your personality.

D: This is exceptionally drinkab- oh hey the growler is gone. It is just that easy. 8% has never been so fleeting, the citrus kiss is a deep acidic wateriness that clips along like a Jetski with two naked Ford models on the juice ocean.

This brewery will keep rolling out awesome DIPAs, I have a pretty good idea that is what is going on.

Narrative: Blammo Corp. was in dire straights and the new toy line was simply not working. The citrus acid battery only served to get nerdy kids beat up at school and prevented home school kids from getting laid. Finally Bill Walmsly had hit rock bottom and pulled over to a roadside fruit stand after the pre-Chapter 11 meeting. He sighed and kicked a rotting strawberry and sat watching the lemon yellow sun sinking into the horizon. “Ahn sometimes…chu know you jas…see the son and es like…naranja.” Bill looked up and saw a sage old Bolivian man polishing a tangelo on his worn Tommy Hilfiger overalls. “Ahn sometimes…you jos say, I don’t need material theengs, es solo importante a ser feliz.” Mr. Walmsly nodded and listened to the broken English of this migrant labor Erasmus and rubbed his chin. “If we can convince kids that they don’t need toys…WE WILL MAKE A KILLING.” The following Friday, Sabino handed out a ripe pluot to each of the board members and continued a bilingual phillipic which seemed to last hours, “en see, chu give kids all the fruitas, and they say, well why can’t we ride the bus then, maybe you don’t need a car when estas dieciseis?” The members looked around confused, Sabino had failed to captivate their minds with his pro-citrus resignation from establish society. Mr. Walmsly injected “and on that note, we will now be selling mango flavored action figures coated in cayenne pepper and grapefruits with fireworks inside of them.” Old Bill had done it again and saved the company from certain ruin. He never forgot that stoic old Sophist, Sabino. A gorgeous marble bust was placed in the grand foyer of Blammo Corp.

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Oscar Blues Ten Fidy, I Gave That Loch Ness Monster About Ten Fidy

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This is the best stout that comes in a can, that is until Peg’s G.O.O.D. Rare D.O.S. gets its canning line up and running this fall [fn1 – citation not found.] But having the best canned beer is kinda like being the hottest camp counselor at D.A.R.E. camp, you really didn’t accomplish much. Let’s look beyond that cold metallic exterior at the heart of this dark beast in today’s review

God. Damn. Loch Ness MONSTAHHHHH

Ted Fidy, Imperial Stout
Oscar Blues, 10.5% ABV

A: This has a pretty viscous appearance to it with nice coating and sticky mahogany carbonation. However, contrary to what most people think, this is not the most viscous used motor oilesque beer that I have ever seen. Rare, Parabola, Abyss, and particularly Hunapuhs are all thicker and exhibit better coating. That is not to say this beer isn’t as black as Satan’s magic, it is. It has tiny bubbles and isolated dots of lacing.

Canned beer: changing the face of the United States, can by can.

S: There is a bit of coffee and some black licorice. You can smell the roasted malts and a sort of burnt turbinado sugar. The bouquet is a bit flat and unremarkable, pretty standard for the genre and style.

T: It has a huge bitter chocolate sweetness at the outset that subsides into deep chocolate malts and finishes with a drying effect. This is a very solid offering especially for the non-barrel aged crowd that can be seen as so pedestrian. Everyone just shaking their heads, “tisking” to their heart’s desire, knowing that a baller version exists out there.

An amazing stout from a can? Well then-

M: The mouth feel has a great stickiness that lingers for about 25 seconds after you swallow it. The mouthfeel is thick but not oppressively so. For the huge gravity and alcohol of this beer, it doesn’t come off as overly filling. I enjoy the interplay of sweet and very bitter elements.

D: Strangely, this is a very delicious and drinkable stout, despite its shortcomings in the aroma and taste aspects. This is not a session beer, but the cans make it very versatile and I can finally take a huge thick stout to the beach. All of my dreams finally come true, my tossing a Frisbee around care free, swishing in the tide with stained khaki teeth.

Beer in a can, works every time.

Narrative: “Don’t do it Sarah, don’t send that tweet,” the former Vice President nominee told herself with waning confidence. “Just stay out of it, people don’t need to know your opinion of Chick-Fil-A, just put the phone down.” Suddenly, the opulent den of her Alaskan parlor was filled with a deep gaseous spirit, murky and black, flowing like crushed linen. “Yesshhhh Miss Palinnn, tell themmm, let them knowww you schiinkkkk that CHICK FILLL EHHH isss a good businessss” this petulant black demon had been her ill advising counsel on more than one occasion. Five years ago she was trekking through the Alaskan tundra and found a small Inuit artifact with warning inscriptions on it, and the rest is pretty heavily implied. “Annnddd thennn once they know how you feeeelllll, you should thennn startttt talking about GUNNN CONNTROLLL and vvviiiiideeeoooo game VIOLLLEEENNNCEEE, tie it in to REECEENT EVENNNTSS.” She nodded with stern contemplation and sent a series of tweets the pundits could only call “completely par for the course.”

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Marin Brewing Bourbon Barrel-Aged Old Dipsea With Brett, Pop Mad Bottles and Start to Feel Dipsea

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Oh wait a second, two vintage rar barleywines in one week? Sounds about right for this site. Here’s a roaster from the Bay Area that has been tossed in a barrel and then lightly infected, to taste. Let’s see if Northern California brings anything to the table in today’s review

This was back when taking pics with, or even owning, a Blackberry was acceptable.

Marin Brewing Bourbon Barrel-Aged Old Dipsea With Brett
Marin Brewing Company
California, United States
American Barleywine | 9.00% ABV

A: The look is clearly murky brown ale or a hateful barley wine and the latter is the frontrunner by a longshot. It has a mild murkiness that doesn’t impart a ton of sediment or carbonation. It feels like this beer has had enough punishment and just wants to be consumed, like anyone on the cover of US! Weekly.

Whenever someone starts comparing barleywines to King Henry, I be all like-

S: This will not make your cranium explode: at the outset you get mild infection which creates cool funk and some hot peat notes; your boner is shortlived once the bumbling dark fruits roll into tow, feeling out of place at best.

T: There is a decent malty note that drops off precipitously into mediocre “deep fruits” but again, there are just so many other haters doing it much better. The years gave this some good mellowing time, but it still will not be winning any spelling bees. If I see this for less than $15, I will buy it absolutely. Let’s not cross streams, this is delicious, but it is. . .strange?

Brett in a barleywine seemed like a good idea, many things sound like a good idea at first.

M: The mouthfeel is a bit weird, it comes on with this cigar smoke/burnt oak which is cool for a bit and then goes ape shit and turns into a fig/plum mess for about .5 seconds, then it is a brown ale. You look out your cellar door and you say to yourself “ok, what happened?” 2009 just happened. Each drink is like this.

D: I can honestly say that 2009 mellowed it out. That being said, it did not tame it completely. I couldn’t drink an entire bomber of this, nor do I want to. Again, the caveat is that I don’t enjoy the idea of infecting barleywines but, I guess after having your dick slammed in a car door several times you are…less averse to having your…dick smashed?

I was told that barrel aging always improves beer, wait wat-

Narrative: God damnit, you are born with a huge gullet for feeding on bottom feeder fish and all of a sudden everyone assumes you are the symbol of fertility. Sure, they don’t know the difference between the old pelican and a stork but, it just strikes you to the core with hateful interpretations. You just attempt to be a mid California bird of prey and all of a sudden Napa house wives are casting their undergarments into the bay at the outset of your wake. How you wish you could tell them that it wasn’t that UC Berkeley PhD in gaelic studies that would enrich their lives. IT WAS WHISKEY. The pelican was not the paradigm of fertility, it was the bird of vice, SO DRINK MORE, he would opine.

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Ale Smith 2008 Barrel Aged Decadence, ONE OF 433 BOTTLES – .RAR status Achieved

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I was pretty Gucci Mane wasted when I merked this bottle, so no pics, but it looked like a barleywine, what do you want from me? You take the bus.

2008 Barrel Aged Decadence
AleSmith Brewing Company
California, United States
English Barleywine | 11.00% ABV

A: nice murkiness to it with some deep brown hues, the mocha foam subsides quickly and isn’t even gracious in its retreat. No lacing or after thoughts are provided. It’s like beating off to your old year books, it is over too quickly and you’re left with a lingering sadness.

Don’t tell me what the fuck to do, Martha.

S: No shocker here, you get the oaky deep wood notes, similar to Hellshire, but with more of a southern boozy bourbon twang to it. There’s some light fruit juice and nice tannins to the nose. There’s a mild tartness to it that kinda reminds me of pear, there’s a nice waft of .rar as you winzip it. My jimmies are well archived.

T: At the outset, huge tart front dominates strangely, but welcomely. It has lots of grape and bright fruits in the middle that is just confusing with all the booziness going on. The juiciness just remains steadfast with no dark fruits or caramel. I keep waiting for the barley wine aspects to kick and it just remains crisp with almost merlot notes. The middle finger extended graciously.

Look how tart this barleywine is, just look at it.

M: This has a nice crispness to it and continues to be iconoclastic in all barley wine form. It imparts this chardonnay dryness with lingering plums and stands back to watch for your reverence. It is almost just confusing all in all. I don’t know how to treat this wayward soul. It seems like an incredibly skilled magician that is also, homeless. You don’t trust it fully but you know that it has an impeccable degree of control. You wallet is gone but you love the prune taste imparted.

D: This is surprisingly drinkable, if not for the strange chimera that it presents. It straddles a ton of separate styles and executes them all well, somehow. It’s like an anti-version of Will Smith. The crispnes and light fruits make it awesome for hot weather with a nice abv booziness that blows my mind. I don’t understand it, but I like it. I GUESS.

This is my favorite beer brewed by Martin Luther King

Narrative: Professor Wallerstein was a physics professor. Well let me back this up, he is a physics professor, but he is also an avid cooper. What’s that you say, “Coopers are an antiquated trade that died in the post Victorian era?” Well then professor Wallerstein has a thing or two to say to you, captain nay sayer. “You see my dear students, the porous nature of the wood coupled with the imbibing properties make barrels the ideal surface for storing and enhacing EVERYTHING.” The student body watched in astonishment as Professor Wallerstein produced a soggy, dank, salami sandwich, clearly reeking of bourbon. “NOW YOU SEE STUDENTS;” he began “This sandwich used to be plain old delicious, now once you infused it completely with wood a bou-” Three officials burst into the corridor with menacing glances. “Put the Sammie down Professor Wallerstein” he crumpled indignantly upon the linoleum and cast his soggy bourbonwich to the awaiting masses.

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Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, The Non-Barrel Aged Version Bangs on 808 Drums

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Whenever someone brings up King Henry, I tell them just to drink Kuhnhenn Barleywine. They make delicious things and meads and sweet treats that people who dont live in a state shaped like an oven mitt seem to overlook. Today we look at the less celebrated, but still danky, regular old 4th Dementia.

I used the regular picture for BB4D and now I am using the Bourbon Barrel picture for the regular review, WHOA FREAKY FRIDAY.

Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, 13.5% abv

A: Nice raisin purplish color with deep amber and brown hues, very minimal carbonation and no lacing. This has always rustled my jimmies about Kuhnhenn beers. When Lost Abbey releases flat beer, everyone loses their shit and makes jpegs for days about it. Kuhnhenn just hangs up their mash paddle and calls it a day. In an Old Ale it really isn’t a big deal, but Road Rash, BB4D, 4D, BBBW, have all been as flat as Keanu Reeves dialogue. Leave Tomme Arthur alone, srsly guize.

When you see someone at a party sipping on a 13.5% abv beer, you know they embrace that tug life.

S: Smells of smoky tobacco and figs. It comes across like someone overboiled a batch of barley wine. There is a mild bourbon note but without the oakiness. The alcohol is well integrated and the charred caramel is good, it reminds me of the time I did a burnout on top of a box of Werthers Originals in my IROC Camaro.

T: There are initially no huge notes to speak of for a split second and then the smoky deep plums and dark fruits rise out of the watery murk and set up Hoovervilles. The taste resounds with a lightly bitter hop balance and just reverberates like church bells in an abbey. When this beer warms up, things become real in and around the field, stone fruits, bruised peaches, plums, figs; it is like Gamgam’s Apotehcary, which is what I will name my Old Ale if I ever brew one.

There’s so much going on in this beer, you may miss the subtle nuances. Give it time.

M: The mouthfeel is surprising light for a beer this huge, also, the booziness is kept to a minimum. It is very impressive that they were able to pull this off with such a strangely balanced imbalance. I mean that the notes are very aggressive and watery at the same time. It doesn’t fill you up and doesn’t have a huge maltiness but manages to coat very aggressively. Nicely done.

D: I never understood the different between aggressive barley wines and olde ales but this is an exceptional example of an “Imperial” Barleywine which is basically an Olde Ale as far as I can tell. Some people will get butthurt and point out differences in the malt bill and the grain profile, start mumbling something about residual sugars but, come on, we all know who you really banging on the side. It has all of the deep dark fruits reduced to a syrupy watery mouthfeel. The taste is very good and it is therefore a pleasure to drink regardless of circumstance, however, the abv is prohibitive and the lingering almost coppery agro deep fruit notes may be difficult over a long session.

You’re expecting one thing, you get something else that is equally awesome, and all the kids need tomato juice baths.

Narrative: “Just chopping and screwing beats all day man, if I aint in the lab, I aint worth nay thin.” DJ4D had an impressive work ethic and remained steadfast in his phillipic against the illusory “haters” that allegedly were constantly holding him back. “They said “yo 4D, you just layed the most savory stickiest flows we ever heard, then I pulled it clean on them and dropped sweet notes right on the treble, see haters hate when you pull of that saccharine shit, they just sit back, judging your sticky crispiness.” The reporter nodded pensively and scribbled furiously, hovering up these gems for his forthcoming article. “THAT’S WHY I PUT THE GRAPEVINE JAMS UP IN THE MIX BECAUSE YOU JUST ALWAYS GOTTA KEEP IT STICKY FOR THE HATERS.” His furrowed brown knitted his fitted cap back; the Expos logo bobbed in concurrence with every statement. None of this made any sense and people would question the death of print media with every word.

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Brooklyn Monster Barleywine Ale, The Monster Under Your Bed Is Your Uncle Drunk on Barleywine

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I went to Manhattan once. It was loud and humid and everything was needlessly expensive and people ran like Korean commuters everywhere. On that trip I tried some random gems that I picked up at some liquor stores in the village, with a staggering markup. The KBS bottle that I enjoyed was $9.59 for a single 12oz bottle. Ruminate on that one Michigan, the next time you think about complaining. Anyway, let’s get all into Monsters in today’s review:

I went all the way to Manhattan and drank this there, that’s how dedicated I am to, drinking things kinda in the eponymous settings.

Brooklyn Monster Ale
English Barleywine, 10.1% abv

A: Deep amber hues with transparency, no lack of clarity, nice middle bubbles, medium carbonation, bubbles that stand firm like an undergrad’s convictions, albeit lacking substance, not unlike an undergrad’s conviction.

Whenever I see a barleywine, my hopes are sky high, then I see that it is an American style barleywine and I be all like-

S: It has a thinner character than most American barley wine profiles but the understated notes are good, some cherries and currant on the nose, Oak, ginger and caramel in the waft. It comes across like a halfway home between American and English barleywines, really, master of jacking trades for none. It is interesting but nothing earth shattering. Earth remains unsheltered, albeit, not unimpressed.

T: The taste really lacks the fruit aspects and has some grape skin, plums, woody dryness, and an herbal hop finish to it. Maybe some barrel aging would have done this more justice, however, it seems lacking in a distinct note to it given the traditional aspects but, no one ever complains while driving a Honda Accord, they just wish for a Lambo.

After having so many amazing barrel aged barleywines, it makes it difficult to take the non-BA offerings seriously.

M: It is much thinner than I expected for the ABV and maybe the lack of maltiness is an attempt to embrace the English side, but, then again I hate when English people do things. They just end up more unreliable and expensive, by my experience. So, is the mouthfeel of this Aston Martin worth the entry price? Yes. Could you spend your time on a bolder more experienced barley wine? Sure. Again, this is a solid beer, a welcome extra, but not something I would seek out, living 3500 miles from its blast radius.

D: It is exceptionally drinkable as a result of the mild malts, thin mouthfeel, great hop character, and juicy dark fruit. It feels similar to a watered down quad more than a barley wine but, here I am just complaining about my struggle buggy while a SIDNEY BICHET SONG IS ON!

This beer, like 50 Cent, will make your whole block feel like summa.

Narrative: “Oh god, they know, they have to know.” Chet Warrington was breathing deeply in the presence of his inlaws. “Allo! Es quite a oice moyning eh soire!” His faux cockney accent resonated through the stone archway with an echoing falseness. His father in law sipped his Earl Grey tea knowingly and utter slowly, “My dear son, I fear not your intention, but cast upon this trepidation, it is ceremony redux outright.” Chet tried to casually laugh off the statement utter to him, which he had no idea how to interpret. These coy englishmen were so dapper, so poised, but so difficult to grasp. “Eres a lump of tea et ees!” He recreated his character from Pygmalion impeccably and smiled a goofy smile to the Earl whose crisp Burberry suit remained uncreased. The lesson he learned from this whole debacle was that it was a fool’s errand to emulate the English, for they were all knowing, and inimitable.

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Drie Fountenein Schaerksbaek Kriek, Just Try Pronouncing That Without Sounding Like a Beer DBag (BDB)

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You’ve been to the bottle shop. You’ve seen this Belgian treat for $39.99 and you’ve always wondered if you’re worth it. Let’s pop your Sch. cherry in today’s review. You are worth it to me.

Get ready for some face melting, and I don’t mean from cat dander.

Drie Fountenein Schaerksbaek Kriek
6% abv, kriek, no shit.

A: It glows a transparent crimson hue with magenta notes at the edges. The middle carbonation is unparalleled. It looks like a red champagne, but more refined and people actually buy this. No lacing, no stickiness, just cherry sticky shurikens cast pell mell.

Poured a radioactive cherry beer, my face was like-

S: There is an intense drying of cherry skins and cabernet tannins. It feels a bit vaporous but fulfilling. It smells really dirty, like a cherry locker room, where they engage in all their tawdry cherry muskiness. You know the type, the movies are under your bed as we speak.

T: It just infiltrates and the cherry is clearly the hostage in this drying, hostile currant raid. It is incredibly crisp and it empties the vault of your palate and smashes the glass case within your bitter zones and imparts a mild hopiness that is almost imperceptible to the incredible acidity left behind. It hurts my tum tum, but it tastes like burning in a good way.

Feel that acidity light up your chest, embrace the GI problems.

M: It feels like I am being worked over by the cherry mafia, It is crisp and amazing for a moment, then I feel my gum line recede when the incredible acidic flavors impart their magic. It is worth it. Each swallow is crisp like champagne and beckons for more.

D: This is incredibly drinkable if you have a fortitude for incredibly tart hectoring. I could merk bomber after bomber, but I am not of the everyman opinion. Most will give this an offputting vinegar rating and complain about the tartness while I am shooting it all over my chest like a victorious Nascar entrant. That’s how I roll in the kriek.

Feed lambics to 95 lbs girls, observe results.

Narrative: “I love this Farmer’s Market, but I LOVE YOUR CHERRIES MOST OF ALL FARMER JOB!” he smiled wryly and handed the customer her 2 lbs of organic cherries. “I would KILL for these cherries on the east coast!” She turned on her heel and Farmer Job exhaled “she doesn’t know old boy, take a breather, relax.” He pushed past the back curtain into his back lab. The truth was that his entire cherry empire was fueled on the blood of felled cherry trees. He looked at their mangled forms, bleeding out, their saccharine juices imparting life to his super cherries. “Soon, soon my grafts will impart tartness beyond belief.” “BUT HOW MANY TREES MUST GIVE THEIR LIVES FOR YOU GOALS!” an apparition called from his potted apothecary. Farmer Job fell to his knees not unlike the character whom his name is unabashedly derived. “OH GARDENING TENANTS! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME SO!” At that moment, the most succulent cherry blossom opened in his face. It was at those times that Farmer Job was the weakest, that there was one set of footprints in the cherry soil that the super cherries carried him.

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Tired Hands Brewing Trois Enfants Lazy Feet, Strawberry Andre Meets Fantome Ragers

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This brewery is another upstart that has hit the ground running by cranking out noteworthy hop bombs and funky saisons, not unlike another certain Vermont mixmaster. This beer is only available on draft, in a reasonable 2 liter growler so today’s review is going to be very thorough, something to drown your sorrows in since you learned the Jef won the Bachelorette. Sticky sweet berry banger, Keisha smokin on Keisha.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.30% ABV

A: This beer has a nice gemstone ruby red color that isn’t exactly my go-to Sherwin Williams color when I think of saisons. It reminds me of that shelf turd Fantome Noel that celebrates Christmas all year round. The spotty lacing looks promising and the growler served Fedex well by guarding this CO2 with its life. As usual, just look above, you know what this looks like. We run a pretty tight ship around here, it’s a game ship.

“Why you always gotta review rare beers I nevar has?” Pic related.

S: There a hint of ripe strawberry, some brett b funk, red Runts candy, a tart vinous profile, and yeasty wood, not the kind you need to get checked out at Planned Parenthood.

T: The taste has a light sweetness that is similar to a strawberry wine, dry oaky malty profile, a light yet heavy paradoxical malt profile that imparts some fleeting funk and wood notes and then peaces out with your Laserdisc player. This is not “on style” I guess and it could be some kind of crossover hybrid between saison, funky english mild, and a strawberry berliner, but then again I ate a shitload of Warheads as a kid, what do I know. I will leave this one up to the pre-diabetics in the audience.

This beer was quite the adventure.

M: This is exceptionally watery and punches home the strawberry and oak notes with no lingering standing in the doorway or effusive goodbyes. You get the fruit, then some oak, and this hobo saison packs up its bindle and rides the rails to another saison shantytown.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, Sean Thompson is wrong. There I said it. If you know him, tell him his opinion is bad and he should feel bad. I am coasting through this growler, mashing on the low (for this site) abv, and just enjoying my strawberry vitamins. The carbonation is good but doesn’t give a big crackly foaminess that fills me up, this allows some serious saison domestic abuse. This is the perfect beer to drink if you plan on throwing some Xbox controllers anyway, this gets it done a bit earlier. Downloading Marvel vs. Capcom doesn’t hurt either. This isn’t world class, but it shows a glimmer and foreshadowing of what this little upstart is capable of. If any of you hater PA readers have some Tired Hands to send my way, holler.

When you open a 2 Liter Growler, a truce is never an option. That is a battle to the death.

Narrative: “The raccoon came out of nowhere, Dad, I swear!” Jessica Harmssen pleaded with her fuming patriarch. He had loved and cherished his 1994 Neon Espresso since the day he drove it off the lot of the now defunct dealership. “Jess, I mean, I really don’t know what is worse, I can no longer make it to the farmers market, but, without my muscle car, I have lost my fruit sculpting passion.” Jessica lowered her head with a deep solemnity. She knew that her father had been studying to pass the Edible Arrangements proficiency exam and now he had next to zero chance of passing that daunting trial. “I am not mad at you sweetie,” Mr. Harmssen began, “but, I just don’t see how I can learn how to carve a strawberry lotus with…this. I will be the laughing stock of the communal farmers, a smashed in Espresso, the bumper is hugging my 14″ rims.” Jessica knew that she had disappointed her father, but, she was secretly glad that he would go back to his Daihatsu Charade, the weekend car, because that piece of automotive refinement was a real head turner.

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Lost Abbey Box Set Track 7 – The Devil Inside, Devil on the Inside, Clean on the Outside

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Ok, let’s give some context to this box set series since most people have more productive things to do with their time than monitor rare ass beer releases. Lost Abbey is releasing one of these beers each month, available for consumption onsite only, in limited numbers. You cannot take bottles away, don’t ask or you’ll get socked. You can enter a lottery to win a box set of all 12 tracks, to be sold at the end of the year. So, basically massive whale box is what we are looking at here. Here is July’s track: The Devil Inside.

If you have ever drank too many lambic/sours, you have felt the devil inside.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.12% ABV

Here’s what the brewery has to say:

“We went back to the well for this one. It is a remix of our classic Veritas 006 aka sangria. We have raspberry and cherry providing the bulk of the fruit texture over a sour yellow base beer. To this we also added some orange peel and freshly zested mandarin orange zest as well. The beer finishes with a nice tannic finish and is truly a refreshing riff on a Lost Abbey classic. ”

A: This is a deep crimson meets magenta look that is inviting like a Lisa Frank binder but menacing like the velvet curtains of that touchy camp counselor you remember too well. The lacing is minimal and the bubbles are light but crackly with acidic rancor. The whole thing looks and feels like a Prince concert, and the elegance is maintained.

When the server dropped off the bottle and radiant glass, I was all like-

S: This has a huge acidic and berry profile with notes of blackberry, raspberry, cherry, currant, tart plum, and a nice citrus finish. It is evident that you will need to switch to PPO dental insurance for drinks like this, because the acidity is nothing to fuck with.

T: This crackles with a juicy acrimonious burn along the gumline that brings some awesome fruits to the bouquet. There’s cherry tannins, that raspberry dryness that you remember from Framboise de Amarosa, then slinking in sheepishly is that fruit profile from V007 that we previously visited. This doesn’t feel devilish, necessarily, but it has a deeeeep burn like those cross-fit box jumps you are so sick of hearing about.

Take fruits and make amazing beer with them: FUCK YOU SCIENCE.

M: This is incredibly dry and tannic like a red wine that has been juicing and using n0x for a sick deep pump. There’s a juiciness at the outset that brings a nice sweetness to accompany the acidic profile. You might get some ulcers from this, but it’s a way cooler story than the old “oh I worked at a failing car dealership” song and dance that burns most people out.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable if you are one of those kinds of people that can play Lifeforce or Rock Band on Expert for hours on end. It is relentlessly punishing but incredibly satisfying. I recommend winning the box set and then taking this one to Jamba Juice and then just sip on this while looking at the other suckers getting fruits in their boring, traditional way.

When you have enough hardcore sours, you start to understand the nature of the universe.

Narrative: Mikayla “Raven” Collier was not adjusting well to 8th grade. Her parents had moved 4 times in the past 5 years and it had taken a toll on her frail psychological profile. As a result, she turned to the all too common practice of adolescent necromancy. The PDF Necronomicon file that she downloaded was substantial and she printed it onto parchment paper from Staples, to give it a genuine luster. She assembled her other awkward friends, the girl with the inexplicable orthopedic back brace, the large girl with a massive lisp to match, and the Samoan girl from her P.E. class. The children had no materials from which to summon the dark fugues of the past. It was almost impossible to find solid alchemy materials in a track home in Charlotte, North Carolina so they made do with what was around the house. Raven found a box of produce from the monthly fruit colelctive that her “lame ass” parents subscribed to and produced the most evil fruit of them all: the unholy durian. After crushing copious amounts of blood pulp from raspberries and cherries, Samoan girl lit the incense. She brandished a Cutco knife, uttered the scrawling script in papyrus font, and cut the foul blackness open, releasing the odious soul of the durian, crusher of mankind. The eyes of the pubescent girls watered and they nodded, this was still much less shitty than Sadie Hawkins.

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Darkhorse Brewing Plead the 5th, For Those Nights When You Are Going to Self-Incriminate

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It’s no secret that I absolutely love the Bourbon Barrel version of this beer, but what about the original source of all the majesty? Is this the magnificent seed from which the 14% abv monster was begotten? We shall see in today’s review. If things get heated, step down from this review and plead that fif.

I lost my picture of the beer, somehow after hundreds of reviews, got feided like Tyga. So if this is yours, enjoys its notoriety on my site.

Dark Horse, Plead the 5th
Imperial Stout, 12% abv

A: This is another deep, angry stout, and it delivers on the appearance in a huge way. The inky blackness spills out as from a pressed squid, delivering no splashiness, just dropped heavy and thick into the glass with little rebound. This is incredibly viscous and lets no light escape its dark pallor. Nice mocha chocolate foamy head that subsides at its own pace.

This is not as amazing as the barrel aged bretheren, but I regret nothing.

S: This has huge acidic coffee notes, bitter chocolate, burnt caramel, and smoked raisins present. Very nice smell, this beer has nice roast and a great cocoa finish. No jokes to be made here, pretty by the numbers, much like an episode of Home Improvement.

T: This tastes very similar to Event Horizon, but with more of a coffee bitterness to it in place of the sweet notes. This delivers a great sweet chocolate note for a moment then starts going to town on the haunches of your bitter zones almost taking your mouth to a tobacco no-no zone where daddy keeps his secret things. The most pleasant part of this beer is the swallow which is, trout cleaning, firewood gathering, man all the way though. It is a deep bitter smokiness with hints of cigar. Tough enough.

This is how it feels to sip pt5. For rls.

M: This isn’t a malt bomb, despite the huge flavor profile, it has a moderately fleeting taste that allows the taster to reel a bit but return wanting more and not carrying it around all day like a pengiun with a salmon in his backpack. It imparts huge charred notes and then gets on down to the liver where the matter of payment is directly at hand.

D: This isn’t exactly drinkable, but for the same reasons that make it great. A Dodge Viper would be a great car for Sunday drives where you take pictures of local children at parks with a high power lens, but not an everyday experience. It is just too imbalanced and aggressive to really invite over to dinner or have on a long car ride. Somehow, I get the impression that this beer doesn’t care what I have to say about it. If a beer had a dismissive brow, this is it, it stares down it scornfully waiting for me to complete my order uncaring of my tastes.

I dont know if pleading this fifth will protect you from anything, but the stories will be amazing.

Narrative: “But, if I don’t testify, the record will remain incomplete and all those people will think that I RAPED THAT GIRL!” William Colgate pleaded with his attorney entreatingly. His counsel, Bruce Levinson sighed audibly and rested both palms on the cool metal table in between them. “GOD DAMNIT WILL. If you DO TESTIFY, they will find out that you RAPED HER DOG.” There was a tense silence between them for a moment and William sipped his water pensively. “I ain’t no human raper. I don’t get off on that SICK SHIT” he noted emphatically. “Well quite the catch-22 we have here, your alibi make it seem as though you raped the dog sitter, but GUESS WHAT, you aren’t charged with raping her, you are on trial for animal abuse” Bruce ejaculated and slid a packet toward William. “You have to plead the Fifth, we can’t have you testify, human raper or no.” William sighed and shook his head in disbelief, “well, if that’s the way of it, I guess Scylla of sexual assault is no better than the Charybdis of dog sex.” Both parties looked at one another in cool reverence.