Loonz and toomez
Honoring the Beer Goddess In You. In Six Words.
This website is accepting submissions from women in the craft industry
http://innerninkasiproject.com/
More specifically, they are accepting 6 words from women, 6 whole words to express “your own emotions of what it means to be a woman in the craft beer community.”
Here is my submission:
“violated flower
pounded malt
yeast concubinage”
Go get your Gloria Steinem on and drop some Gertrude Steeezy on that tip.
On a totally unrelated note, here is a picture of the 2013 graduates from Acadia University who majored in Nutrition:
Peg’s Nooner BATCH 2: RareR DOS with Vanilla Beans, NOT SOME JANKY BLENDED BERLINER
So it has been what, four months since these hateful little growlers were filled and people are still slanging them like yellowtop vials up on the boards. Some people swear by these 16oz swingtops and, I guess for a beer like this, it really doesn’t matter: people will seek them out irregardlessly. So if I recall correctly, something like 120 of these were filled, 1 per person, but of course in the wild west Florida trading scene, people get scooping up multiples like a Craigslist Casual Encounter. Enough pageantry, let’s see if you wanna flick your vanilla bean after today’s review.
I have the fattest nooner right now
Peg’s Cantina & Brewpub
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV ?
A: This is somehow more lackluster and just looks dingier than the RareR variant and far less excited than the Regular ass Rare DOS. It has some minimal lacing, a tiny head, some gentle sheeting, but nothing too apeshit. There is a certain sloppiness to it that screams artisinal that a 50 barrel system just couldn’t pull off. Not sure if thats just QC lipstick on the base of a maltcock, but shit is sloppy in a fun way.
hot sticky synthetic vanilla on stout action
S: This, like the RareR is also all over the place and not exactly what you would expect. If you are thinking “Alright, Vanilla Dark Lord right?” fucking wrong. You remember how the RareR DOS had none of that super traditional rum aspect to the nose, well this iteration of vanilla is kinda more like Hostess saccharine sweet frosting. There’s obviously the whole entourage of coconut, vanilla, caramel coated mallowfoam, but they are really muted relative to this big powerful “vanilla” aspect that comes across more like fondant, or some kind of confectioner’s delight. I like this beer less than both of the previous iterations, I feel like they set the boost too high and the turbos are just spooling up and whipping cake batter.
T: This presents that same wonderful brownie batter, a sort of 4 Roses bourbon werther’s original sweetness to the treatment, but again the real star is this Coldstone Creamery asshole just dominating the flavor profile with all this vanilla goodness. This wouldn’t be offputting if the vanilla was amazing, or at least balanced. This just takes this NY Yankees “more is better” approach and ends up alienating people and getting hated on. Let me clarify, this is still an amazing beer, don’t think I am saying this is some Clown Shoes level shit. I am merely stating that what should be a modifier largely detracts from the whole experience. Some guys want a girl who can squirt, but if she starts gushing vanilla extract all over, you would probably be like “ok, that’s it, no more for me, I am gonna need that $300 back.”
Some people fall in love with this beer and go through crazy lengths to be with it
M: This is the same as the other ones, toeing that amazing line between thin ass offerings from Eclipse/Foothill/Central Waters, but straying away from the Hunas and Menacing ass Dark Lords of the world. Think along the lines of Parabola or a beefier Czar Jack. No I am not going to condescend and bring in the fucking casuals with some Ten Fidy or Old Rasputin references. This is for tickers flexing that iron, go to your offshelf pilates class this website isn’t for you.
D: Overall this is exceedingly drinkable, if you can get past the beetus nose and vanilla hammering away at your jawline. Like oh so many rare ass offerings, it’s really tough to recommend this 20% improvement if you are giving up BA Kopi or Birth of Tragedy type of stuff to land it. If it is a reasonable trade, absolutely seek this out. Otherwise wait until Doug has a family member pass away and he opens up his massive 7 barrel system*.
I am not saying they should have cancelled this batch, but maybe it was a bit rushed.
Narrative: The University of Connecticut had never seen a season like this, and a turnout of over 30% of the seats sold at a women’s basketball game was staggering to say the least. “You girls are really doing something here, I mean forget Title IX, you girls are almost running only 49% in the red this season…A UNIVERSITY RECORD!” their Coach Ms. Hammerstein boomed in the opulent, nearly unused locker room. The mannish young women nodded plaintively and Coach Hammerstein caught power forward Takesha Williams blush. “You got something to say Takesha?” the coach importuned aggressively. “Nah coach it’s just, I wasn’t supposted to say nothin’ it’s just…” the rest of the team shook their heads as Takesha winsomely revealed the huge secret of their success. “Ain’t nobody tryna watch no women’s basketball, I mean, sitting through all that to see 41 points scored, it’s painful,” the coach sat on a bench and tapped her foot nervously. “Coach, we been Beaning, beaning all semester, since preseason even-” Takesha, a hulking amazon of an athlete pulled out a small vial of raw sticky wet vanilla beans. Coach Hammerstein dropped her gaze to the hexagonal tiles. “You…you told me it was air freshener, they are gonna cancel our grant. Dozens of the UCONN fans will be DEVASTATED!” Coach Hammerstein boomed as each young woman revealed their sticky sacks of beans. It was unnatural, and a conceitless way to ensure victory, but women’s basketball was hardly watchable without them all straight poppin their beans.
* I do not wish harm on any of the Peg’s or Cycle Brewing Staff and I am sure the Will and Intestate laws of Florida would treat his heirs amiably.
New Vedeo Review Hunapuss, Hanapiss, Honapuhs!!!11!!
get up in that pus
New video review Bell’s Black Note!1!!1! wathc me bled this rabbit out
black note, bells, midwest and then girlscouts arent holding their liquor
Imperial ba Abraxas huna. Fuck your couch.
So imperial
Chocolate bunny cask aged Balls Black Nut
Don’t even ask. Video forthcoming
Time for some ‘Tomes and Tums
I ain’t afraid of no ghosts
2004 Pissenlit because Shogokawada is a hater
On Instagram straight flexing.
Vintage tomes exorcise my bones.
Birrificio Le Baladin Xyauyù Fumé (Islay Whisky) – Xyuken, Shoryuken, BALADASKINPEROOKIN
Well what ornate kinds of shit do we have going on in today’s review? Just another imported $50 500ml bottle NOTHING TO FUCKING SEE HERE. This is the legendary Xyauyu barleywine but one of the even more .RAR variants, aged in Islay Whisky barrels, so you know things are gonna get pretty peaty up in this bitch real quick. It came in a circle box, in a waxed bottle, you remove the wax and uh oh the princess is in another castle. A fucking cork. Not just a regular one either, a long deep cork that pounds way inside. When you finally open up this genie bottle, shit goes off the chain and you can see what those lazy ass italians are up to when they aren’t groping foreign women and pissing away the value of the Euro.
A barleywine, that is flat, that is corked, that is capped, that is waxed, that is in a circle box: Xyauyuception
Birrificio Le Baladin
Italy
English Barleywine | 14.00% ABV
A: The cork finally eases out and this 2008 beast is ready to go full throttle. Well not exactly, this beer is famous for being flatter than 10 year old Kate Upton, and having absolutely no gas to it. For some people, they just write this beer off as a “poor man’s” Utopias, but haters gonna Baladin I guess. I could give a fuck less about the lack of lacing or carb because look at that beast. It sheets harder than southern Reconstructionists, and is just as furious. If Kuhnhenn can release massive flat barleywines and everyone’s foreskin is all pulled back, why not the italians, renowned for their foreskin?
ONLY A TRUE BEER NERD CAN APPRECIATE THE COMPLEXITY OF THIS SITUATION
S: This is seriously 1) the most peat forward beer I have ever had and 2) easily one of the most complex. I am gonna pull apart this strata like a horny geologist so you can get all up in these layers. First the peat and barrel sets its feet firmly in the paint and starts screening out every other aspect. This is like Home Depot garden aisle with a bit of Costco tire aisle mixed in. There is a huge smoke and earthiness not unlike sulphuric oak and deep char rounding out the profile. When the wreckage is cleared, there is a terrified citizen in the bombed out peat building, smelling all like caramel, mallowfoam, toffee, butterscotch and peanut brittle. Shattered to the core.
T: This is incredibly smoke and peat forward and the entire first taste is akin to just straight up sipping straight up peaty Scotch. The dude from Islay dug peat samples from six locations across Scotland – three of which were peat bogs on Islay. A practice steeped in tradition, lends “a sense of place” to the whiskies of Islay, playing an important part in the mysterious chemistry of malt whisky. This shit is no exception and just unloads both barrels in your face with deep oak, smoke, peat, and intense whiskey profile. The peat aspect is incredibly earthy and totally unlike the rauch aspects that some people may be thinking of, the shit is like hardcore gardening, planting GLADIOLAS MOTHERFUCKER. The backend is this fantastic sweet caramel, Rolo and Sixlet candy, a sticky sweet caramel apple, with some dank ass Heath bar finishing the experience. Very strange and inviting, like that volunteer gym coach who wasn’t on the school payroll and would just show up at games.
If you buy a $50 beer before you lose your virginity, congratulations, you just reach beer nerd god tier. Enjoy being a eunuch.
M: This is hot, drying, and incredibly sticky at the same time. The entire experience is a clusterfuck of different elements going on. The oak and smoke take front seat and contribute this cloying cigarsmoke finish that leaves you feeling like you have drysocket, but then the sugars replace that feeling with deep cavities, shit is straight up occlusal real quick. Go ahead and Bing that word, I will wait.
D: This is an incredibly difficult aspect to address because it really isn’t drinkable in the classic sense. I mean, it is tough to want to hang out with a 14% abv asshole all the time without getting in mischief and soaking the entryway down, smashing goldfish crackers on the carpet and shit. But in a certain way, this brash overpowering jerk has a certain charm. It took me 90 minutes to finish this 16oz bottle, and I don’t have no pussy palate. I am not going to address that inherent euphemism. But on a long enough scale, this is enjoyable as something that could be savored as a rare treat, tugging it along gently, massaging your palate’s lower colon to push for deeper results. The experience is worth it. $50 worth it. Stop being a sweet dick and embrace the peat.
Maybe you think you are bad ass for drinking this, maybe you are just a raging pussy who cant even handle this power? Who knows.
Narrative: The baggage line at Moline/Quad Cities airport was really nothing to write home about, in the classic sense. It was a single carousel of lacluster luggage, largely from lamenting languishers, awaiting trips to Iowa or the 312. One bag had a special secret. Reggie Darwinson pulled the Samsonite equipage from the line and examined it at length. “Sir, you are gonna wanna see this-” Reggie radioed to his supervisor and massaged the cool wet exterior of the canvas bag. “What is it Reggie? Oh god what is that smell?” his superfisor fumed and examined the soggy sack, sticky and rancid, like a box of soaked cigars. They opened the bag and found a perfectly measured sack of fertilizer with Italian customers paperwork soaked in the muck and the mire. “Who would pay $50 just to send this? There is no baggage tag, just country of origin…Italy,” Reggie noted and pushed around the wet bog, discovering a series of obscure Italian chocolates in the muck. “I have never seen anything like this, sir…I am going to hang on to this,” Reegie stammered and wheeled the smoky mess home. He started at the luggage and wondered what would possess someone to do this, but it gave him a strange comfort to have it sitting there, in his shitty midwest apartment.
dontdrinkbeer 