DDB dropping those onion flows, brewers read the reviews and weep
Tickers be like “DDB how can brewers diss you, even you superficial shit is still super official”
Apricot lambic on the realist tip
A life of taking back Sundays, cute without the e cut from the brewing team
Blue Lobster a life of Sundays.
I hate this style but this is fantastic, not for the style, great all around. Almost an old ale really.
Blue lobster excess, DDB reviews jumpin from that free throw line like Jordan in 88
As long as their soda cans are red white and blue ones
Blue Lobster Ragged Neck Rye, Fedex Getting My Porter Straight Shaken Ragged
Alright we handled that Treehouse shit earlier, we hit up HF gems on the reg, but what about neglected ass New Hampshire? Don’t they get any love in the beer spectrum? Well this is kinda a hyrbid of sorts since one of the Blue Lobster brewers, David Salkolosowklsky, used to work at Hill Farmstead. The entire region is just whipping up game and pushing cream in the trap. Some people’s jimmies are still steel traps for regular, non-BA porters. WELL THEY NEED TO GET PUT UP ON GAME. Let’s see if this is some Funky Buddha porter steeze or a weak ass Shipyard offering in today’s review.
Cross-country journey and it was still excited to see me. Beer you my only fren.
Blue Lobster Brewing Company
New Hampshire, United States
American Porter | 7.40% ABV
A: This looks phenomenal and keeps the carbonation just flowing and billowing like chocolate mousse from the jump. The cling and lacing is nice, residual malts just streaking the glass like chocolate milk tatties in the shower room. You tip up for that splishy splashy light body that breaks out cola thin, shooting that bubble up from below like a darker Miley Cyrus, but far cleaner in execution.
This porter is a different kind of uplifting, but I like it.
S: This has a fantastic almond tannic presence that lends a distinct rye crackliness that almost reminds me of cracked black pepper mixed with a baker’s chocolate hand you can hold while skipping through the gentle single porter world full of robust choices. Very little if any smoke to this, more like scorched coffee grounds for those of you that weigh their water before brewing LIKE LITTLE BITCHES. The dark bready aspect is a crackly lil gem that reminds me quite a bit of a thinner, more angry version of Everett. Everyone’s porter recipe seems to be jacked from somewhere.
T: This extends the olfactory and again is a compeltely dry affair with a roasty first foot that steps in a puddle of 85% cocoa that balances shit out and boosts that drinkability hardcore like a Terran Stimpack. The Abv is laughable and lies in wait with the shiv under your liver’s bunk ready to put in work. This isn’t the most complex beer in its rye forward, dark bread, thin execution; but that’s ok. It could use a bit more chocolate malts to boost a sweetness to balance out the woody aspects of this beer but some people would tell me to suck on my own tits because that is how they like their porters. Agree to suck on one’s own tits, respectively.
Whenever I try a really good porter I WANT TO GIVE IT TO EVERYONE.
M: This is thin and the light dryness from the rye doesn’t make this a cloying affair like say, Smoking Wood from the Bruery. It reminds me of the bad seed twin brother of Everett. It is more menacing, drier, less sweet, and just doesn’t seem to give a fuck about you. This is the Everett twin that does sick burnouts, fingerbangs chicks in 9th grade, has slicked back hair, takes dixpix and is all around just a more pissed off porter. Some tickers like that kinda role model, who am I to intervene?
D: This is exceptionally drinkable and, even more so than Everett in some respects. The sweetness is absent and so you get roast and rye to push you along this khaki foamy log ride. If you don’t like that, then you will drink faster, if you do, you will swallow harder for those dry bready pumpernickel notes. Either way the growler is gonna be drained and you will have to drive your kids to school drunk. Good job, parent of the year.
Some porters are on a whole different level of badassness.
Narrative: Solvang was a Danish City known for its sunny fields. Well to be more accurate, Solvang was a central California city, founded by Danish people, currently populated by Mexicans. The little city of 5,000 was famed for its rye harvests year in and year out, travelers would come from miles around to sample the scratchy dry wheat and enjoy the dark loaves of bread sold by the street vendors. The teeming masses from San Luis Obispo would watch the migrant workers toil to reap the crop annually, never thinking to contribute to their efforts in a meaningful way, or contemplate their crippling wages. It was easier just to buy some Danish chocolate and some plastic Viking costume for the misbehaving children. One of the gems of Solvang that none of the tourist seemed to appreciate was Mission Santa Ynes, which sat right next to the fake Danish village. The stoic congregation would pray and eat rye Eucharist, looking solemnly on the obese masses enjoying funnel cakes. Many would overlook the real splendor of the town, its agrarian roots, deep rye beds, incredible chocolate; they would listen to 2 Chainz CDs and buy Danish wares made in China. Some people just don’t want to actually travel; don’t actually want nice things.
Blue Lobster? Blue him I just met him!
And other vintage levity.
Dave salkoloskowosky does some great work. As does Brewchewsandtunes.
Putting my lapseat in an upright position.
@revbrewchicago getting double fisted so hard
Double pale? Ok I guess weakest revbrewchicago to date but still chill
@eaglerockbrew Yearling, a solid Flanders red. Basically.
Sure it’s an AWA with notes of cherries and red wine vinegar, but it is essentially Oude Tart crossed with Duchess. But not as well done.
Not bad but not especially alerection inspiring since Oude Tart with cherries costs less.
@almanacbeer That brandy barrel pumpkin barleywine sesh, for the haters
Heirloom pumpkin barleywine, legit barleywine, not much gourd, the spice is refined and all around a solid fall pumpkin meets arctic devil execution.
1996 Rodenbach Alexander, Keeping Teenagers in the Cellar and Exploiting them Years Later
Let’s just get this out of the way: this is the best Flanders Red that I have ever had. There I said it. Rodenbach Caracterie Rouge was fucking amazing. And Teeeeechnically Oude Tart with Cherries isn’t a Reeealll flanders, right? Even with qualifiers, this is the fucking best flanders out there. Even with close to two decades on this bad bitch it still wilds out, hair in corn rows, shopping at Charlotte Russe not giving a fuck.
This used to be on the white whale list but SpeedwaleJim in his infinite wisdom decide that T25 was more sought than this fucking incredible blast from the past. Go figure.
This teenager is dope because he doesn’t listen to One Direction bullshit.
Brouwerij Rodenbach N.V. visit their website
Belgium
Flanders Red Ale | 5.00% ABV
A: This is class flanders, flandiddidly for sheeze. Popping those ::sigh”” robey tones are like that magical moment when the bills cascade above the laquered floor and the exotic dancer elects to clap those red bottoms. Tickers go hard for those red bottoms. With 17 years on this bitch, still foam, still cream, still cling, still putting commas in the bank. I don’t know what else you could really want when you see shit like this standing tall doing 15 to life still not getting shanked. Fucking beautiful beer, not muddy, not faded on that oxidation tip, but you could crush up that oxy and let Alexander work his 8oz magic.
This beer is a great listener.
S: God damn this is straight cherries on cherries, even my cherries got cherries. This is maraschino at first but then evolves into an acidic flame and screams like Bieber fans. There is oak, a light dryness, a tangy sweetness like Fruit by the Foot, some red 5 pimpin, earthy and a tad splash of vinegar notes but nothing off-putting. Shirley temple for days on that Littlest Rebel mix. Drop your glow sticks and tongue kiss that Honduran chick rolling hard on molly eating those cherry jolly ranchers, get on that Alexander game.
Dropping holy judgment.
T: This is phenomenal in the way it balances a legit cherry sweetness without being sucrets, and a tartness without being an overpowered acid bomb. This wouldn’t talk to the cops, take the charge and still take the years for you holding up hard with the cherries in tow. The oak is legit, it is a bit dry but also has that great tannic presence to round shit out with another level of complexity like a C plot in a Family Matters episode. Some 3J shit.
M: This is sticky but lightly dry at the same time, the cherry is RIP straight rest in pussy. For this many years, it is insane that it has held up this well and the carb is a lil Crystal Geyser crackle like sparkling water that keeps delivering after all this time. Rodenbach keeps that AK on the nightstand shooting out with modern day Flanders letting shells drop. There is a finishing creaminess that coats the back with gentle bubbles like jacuzzi’s at Coachella.
D: This is insuling. How drinkable was this fucking 25cl white wale? I can’t even begin to address this. My erection was visible throughout drinking this bottle, the dogs present were uncomfortable. This has cherries, oak, splishy splashy juciness and keeps you wanting more. I can’t think of an analog to it, which should make sense given its age and pedigree. Again, seek it out but do us all a favor and put your Cherry Rye shit away, the real men are talking.
Better ask someone.
Narrative: She sat there day after day, painting landscapes in the Garden at Giverny. Her flowing red gown seemed ill at east in the summer breeze, yet inviting. Each day you would feign the pretence to visit the shores of the recending lakeline, prod about in the muck while wondering what the glowing red countenance had to offer. The air was redolent with bluebell that fateful day you crushed the poppy flowers and closed the distance. So sweet in demeanour you introduced yourself, and were treated to a laundry list of compound curse words that would make a Press Gang blush. So sweet in appearances and introduction, you could take your new baroness anywhere, to the Salons, to the racetrack, to Tinpenny alley to bet on cockfights. She was your patient, yet offensive muse. She likened your grandmother’s face to pachyderm ankles, but you dont care, you love the sweet and the sour that she presents. Your calm demeanor is not enough to introduce yourself: YOU NEED A BALLER ASS MATERIA. You need materia hidden in snow for years, aged to perfection. That smug french asshole, we will see how she feels after you summor the raw power of ALEXANDER.
25 hour tutorial? fuck you.
dontdrinkbeer 