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@tiredhandsbeer Artisnale Oyster Stout brewed with Escargot shells, THIS IS MAKING MY SNAIL COME OUT OF ITS SHELL

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Alright stay with me here, I know this is a little crazy, oyster stout brewed with snail shells? I guess I should preface this entire review by saying 1) I don’t like oyster stouts in general and 2) I don’t eat snails, unless I am in a third world country and I am doing it for the lulz to show them I am just like thems. That being said, I will skull any beer and have zero regrets, well ok maybe SOME REGRETS.

But let’s bust these shells wide open and suck out the juices in today’s review.

snails poppin slugs at those haterzzz

snails poppin slugs at those haterzzz

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Stout | 7.80% ABV

A: The carbonation on this beer is legendary and even the slightest agitation takes it to pre-menstrual levels of anger. I know it looks like I poured this like an asshole, but srs, I was pediatrician gentle with it and it still was all rustled. The slick “light black” inkiness of the beer seems almost deep brown in a way, compared to most imperial stouts that are darker than Satan’s magic. The head is absurd and straight out of a Juicy J video, all dark and excessive.

if you drink this stout, chances are you aren't a complete piece of shit. Pic related.

if you drink this stout, chances are you aren’t a complete piece of shit. Pic related.

S: This has a really sweet tootsie roll sort of waft to the smell, light roast, baker’s chocolate, and a sort of milk chocolate aspect to it on the nose. The hops are really restrained an almost seem to be well integrated with the char of the malts. I will say at the very back end there is this sort of longshoreman brine meets salts sea captain sort of thing going on that almost reminds me of a jar of nickels. It is not all up in the spotlight but the imperial oyster aspects are in the background, spinning salty jams for everyone to rage to.

T: The foregoing is continued and sustained with a sweetness at the outset that is at first almost offputting like some “imperial” stouts from England where you just lul at them for trying, being all turbinado and sticky. But then out of nowhere off the high ropes fucking brine and this metallic aspect comes in and drops ‘bows and puts the roast in a figure four. You think the ref is gonna call it, but oh shit, the snail shell aspect just smashed him with a folding chair. Things get out of hand really quick, but strangely, I had a hard time putting it down because I was fascinated by it.

if you are drinking imperial oyster stouts, chances are you aren't a complete beta bitch in the permafriend zone. pic related.

if you are drinking imperial oyster stouts, chances are you aren’t a complete beta bitch in the permafriend zone. pic related.

M: This has one of the craziest mouthfeels from a stout that I have experienced in a long time. I am assuming that the inclusion of the escargot shells imparted a huge calcium and alkaline boost to the water profile because the water is super hard in this mix. After you swallow, the sugars dont even linger on your teeth and you get this sort of lip smacking aspect that is strange from a stout. This too reminds me of those UK stouts with a really gentle mouthfeel and dainty carbonation, this paired with the crazy sweet meets salty aspects leave me perplexed and straight draining the bottle.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable with the caveat that you must be able to tolerate some sweetness, hard water, and a light brackishness to your stouts. This might be a deal breaker for most people, but I was intrigued by it and finished this with celerity. For not liking the style itself, I would wager that this is about as awesome as this genre can get while still being on style. It’s like having the world’s fastest hybrid in a way, certain concessions will be inherently present within the confined of the category.

for an 8% beer, you hit this beer and this beer hits back.

for an 8% beer, you hit this beer and this beer hits back.

Narrative: Penelope Brigston slid lazily across the wet concrete and soaked in the misty Seattle morning. The dew from last night gave a nice moisture profile to Vicksburg street and her stomachfoot embraced the pavement with calculating execution. She slowly passed the smashed earthworms, those annelida too ambitious to restrain themselves from walking right into traffic. Penelope felt a small disconnect with the suburban street and thought about all of her taxonomic brethren, such diversity in her family and yet she was alienated from all of them. Hell, she hardly ever wrote to her sea mollusk family anymore and the better part of her days were consumed in either eating fescue or licking Tootsie Roll wrappers. Busy days all around. Her radula worked assiduously tearing apart a discarded piece of romaine lettuce and she savored the metallic taste of the sardines and salt in the dressing. It was a hazy morning but Penelope would face life with both antennae forward, living life out of her shell as much as possible.

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Ok, We Get It, You Love Hops, Now Shut The Fuck Up.

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I love when people get into craft beer and walk that magical journey down the path of exploration. It is like being in 8th grade and stroking it for the first time to an episode of Lazy Town and entering a brave new world of autoeroticism. The only problem with people who just enter the beer scene are all the johnny come latelies who are fucking obsessed with hops. It is a plant, we get it, you love hop puns, you love that resinous taste. Why do us other beer drinkers have to listen to all of your verbal jism casting thick heavy ropes on our ears?

There is a cadre of these assholes in any beer community, always comparing Heady to Pliny, Dreadnaught to Hopslam, Nugget Nectar to whateverthefuck. Most of the time they aren’t even the same style of IPA, much less style of beer in the first place. Just stop it. You don’t see people into Gose always talking about Leipzig and whose is the saltiest and OMG comparing gose vintages, no it’s always the same assholes: hopheads. The next time you see these guys, start obessessing about another minor aspect of beers like water profiles, get all rock hard over alkaline profiles and mouthswish, “OMG THE MICROCARBONATION COATING FROM THE BOTTLE CONDITIONING GUYSSSS” see how they like it. I just don’t get why people choose to focus on an aromatic plant and worship the shit out of it. No gueuzeheads are scribbling acid molecules in their binders or talking about musk profile in the same way that hop obsessors do.

Go to any shitty Cafe Press shirt site for beer and there are always a ton of these hop shirt like “HOPtimum Enjoyment” “HOP TO IT!” or “Registered Sexual HOPfender” or some shit. I get it, play on a single word, very clever.

Here let me help you out, if you are that fixated on hops, here is a shirt design for you all to dream about, wear this to the next Beer Release or Tasting:

AHHH MY HOP CONE IS BUSTING WITH STICK OILSSSS BROOOOOOOOOOOO

AHHH MY HOP CONE IS BUSTING WITH STICK OILSSSS BROOOOOOOOOOOO

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@tiredhandsbeer Handfarm, Barrel aged 500 bottle saison releases? This website was made for this kind of shit.

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I hope YOUR hands aren’t too tired from stroking it to all these Pennsylvania walez. In today’s review we look at the inimitable Handfarm, a remix portmanteau of farmhands, aged in barrels, waxed and waiting for your touch. If you are new to this site, you might want to read up on Hop Hands before you just go into this review with some dry labias: Here is the cagematch from Saison Marathon yes I know that is a totally different beer. I am putting people up on that Tired Hands tip.

The only thing that can make an awesome saison even more betterer is barrel aging, look what it did to Arthur, took an already good beer to ART beast mode levels. Anyway, so this was a super small release and my balloon knot has been so puckered waiting to put my mouth on this so lets get to it.

God damn this beer is incredible. In the unlikely event that you missed out on the 180 bottles of Ann, please seek this out.

God damn this beer is incredible. In the unlikely event that you missed out on the 180 bottles of Ann, please seek this out.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.20% ABV

A: No surprises out of the gate here, it looks very similar to Farmhands with a milky sort of pale straw disposition, folding its arms with microbubbles and some will of the wisp lacing regenerating for one black mana on the edges of the glass. MAGIC THE GATHERING JOKES: WE ARE DOING THEM NOW.

A beer this complex and refreshing that clocks in at 5%? They must have leveled their saison specs so hard. DPS for days.

A beer this complex and refreshing that clocks in at 5%? They must have leveled their saison specs so hard. DPS for days.

S: Wow, this reminds me a lot of Ann on the nose with just a huge dry white grape, musk, brett C, a light sweetness like those crescent rolls that people always fight over in commercials, lemon rind, and any candle that is yellow basically (lemon, birthday cake, sunlight, whatever.)

T: This carries more of a floral aspect than I was expecting and it presents a brett c muskiness at the outset that takes me to that vintage Fantome printemps land pretty quickly. There is a ton of complexity in the grain bill, you get sweetness, a light scratchiness as though rye was up in the mix, complicated yeasty profile on the backend that reminds me of banana runts. The yellow ones everyone always be throwing away. Again, this is just incredibly refreshing and the format size and inaccessibility of this beer is almost a complete “fuck you” to anyone without a legit cellar and a Fedex account. I DONT FEEL BAD FOR THEM THEY CAN DRINK HENNEPIN AND FUCK OFF.

This beer is so good, I wish they could just deliver it to my door.

This beer is so good, I wish they could just deliver it to my door.

M: This is dry at the outset because of the barrel and the brett c I would wager, think Seizoen bretta land, but the yeast and complex ass malt bill comes in kicking in doors without a warrant, tagging your mouthwalls up with sweetness, biscuit notes, stick floral potted plants on the gumline. When it leaves you don’t even know where to start, someone just farmfucked your mouth but you dont even fill out a police report because you secretly liked it.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and to say that 500ml is not enough is like dropping my monocle in a glass of 1995 Chateau Margoux and complaining about the dry cleaning bill. Most people will never have this, but this review site is not for most people. Chances are, if you are here you already lost most of your regular friends to the beer game. This site is for fucking lifers, guys with beer shivs tucked under their shitty ikea beds. If you want an incredibly refreshing saison, seek this out. It is both complex and restrained at the same time. It was gone before it even arrived.

Taking barrel aged saisons and comparing them is an art not a science

Taking barrel aged saisons and comparing them is an art not a science

Narrative: Chester Wakely was an average rabbit by any onlooker’s standards. Pronounced bicupsinds, whiskers, nimble, and soft to the touch. He spent his days in a gentle repose amongst the willows and sagebrush, basking in the floral decadence of the springtime sun. Deep down Chester knew that something was different about him. There was a longing complexity to his character that transcended the run of the mill “avoiding predators” and “mating.” Chester would often look across the hills to the Perkinson Vineyard and wonder about those pale yellow grapes lingering on the vine. Those chardonnay casks rolled in and out like the waxing and waning of moons. While he was only 5 lbs and a rabbit, he longed to be get deep into vinification. He lacked opposable thumbs or a developed cortex to execute complex processes, but God damnit, Chester could dream. He would later be hit by a Suzuki Samurai while trying to cross the interstate.

Godspeed, Chester.

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@tiredhandsbeer Entropic, Entropy is not a human issue, Entropy is matter of course

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I WOULD LIKE TO DECLARE THIS TO BE THE MOST DRINKABLE BEER THAT I HAVE EVER HAD. Live Oak Hef has officially been moved to second place. I drank this entire 32oz growler in ~40 minutes while playing Crysis 3. Srs bzness.

Before we even get started in today’s review, you should turn this shit up while you read this review:

So what do we have today from the Tiredest of Hands. My hands are usually super tired from fapping all the time, but I think discussing entropy warrants that we address something higher than just torquing it. This is a draft only offering from one of my favorite breweries who seems to be seeping from their saison roots and dominating other styles not unlike when Hill Farmstear dropped Damon and everyone lost their shit. So what do we have today? This is listed as an American Pale Ale, but I feel that this is a misnomer given the complexity and execution of this beer. But then again, In statistical mechanics, entropy is often related to the notions of order and disorder. THIS SHIT IS STRAIGHT DISORDERED AND MISCLASSIFIED.

20130309-100945.jpg From disorder comes something inherently ordered and simple in execution, call Zeno BECAUSE I FOUND A PARADOX

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Pale Ale (APA) | 5.50% ABV

A: Holy hell look at the radiance on this gentle beast. I did not even look this up before I just went balls deep pouring into globes, not even sparing a single fuck. The carbonation is amazing but not excessive like those crazy Fantome or Upland Lambics, just enough to drop a snap crackle and even some pop notes. Crazy pop notes. AH shit, purge “pop notes” from your memory, I dont need another fucking phrase yelled at me at beer releases.

I looked up and saw this was listed as an American Pale Ale and was all like huehuehuehuehue

I looked up and saw this was listed as an American Pale Ale and was all like huehuehuehuehue

S: This has an incredible lemon zest and coriander waft to it, there is a lemon meringue and brackish cleanliness to it that smells straight fresh out of the shower clean. If Polo Sport made a beer, it would be this, so fresh and so clean clean. There is a light hop presence but I am talking like sliding your hand up a thigh in the movies gentle, incredibly restrained. This straight up is not a pale ale, I will just say it, much less an ultra hopped AMERICAN pale ale. To be clear, this beer is amazing, but I feel it is misclassified. If you walk into this expecting some pine and grapefruit zombie dust bomb, FUCKING THINK AGAIN.

T: This carries itself with a graceful lemon and light wheat profile but again is so subtle in execution that picking out the notes from the malts themselves is like picking fly shit out of pepper. There is a lemon pledge meets tangelo finish in the taste and the finish has this amazingly refreshing brackish saltiness to it that almost reminds me of a gose. The faint tartness, lemon, and clean finish makes this beer lean harder on the “belgian table beer” meets gose taste to it. If you have ever had Stillwater Premiere or a grisette, it is like that. You get this sort of baby saison impression that is far removed from the APA world.

This gentle beer is a crazy sniper, before you realize it, growler is gone, and you are out rustling cattle in downtown Baltimore.

This gentle beer is a crazy sniper, before you realize it, growler is gone, and you are out rustling cattle in downtown Baltimore.

M: This is incredibly frothy and clean in the mouthfeel. It washes away completely without any residual lemon tastes, and only a faint hop presence. Seriously, if we are still talking 90’s colognes this is seriously like Davidoff Cool Water of the refreshing beer world.

D: I said it above and I will reiterate it here, this is the most drinkable beer that I have ever had. The abv is masked perfectly and that saltiness washes away begging for another huge swallow. Bird enthusiasts get all excited when I be talking about big swallows. Seriously though, in the same way the Live Oak hef has that amazing honey/lemon thing going on, this has a light saltiness and acidity that makes you able to burn through these growlers with a swiftness.

This may not be the strongest beer, or the most complex, but God damn if it doesn't get me dripping wet.

This may not be the strongest beer, or the most complex, but God damn if it doesn’t get me dripping wet.

Narrative: Paul Regis was the most uplifting person in Kraft’s marketing team. His off-yellow suits and dapper oiled hair made all of the receptionists swoon in the Pizza Pocket division. “And so you see, the losses in the Spongebob Mac and Cheese are actually offset by the Phineas and Ferb fruit snacks!” he declared with a refreshing confidence. The investors nodded and took deep pulls from their lemon water, compliments of Mr. Regis. In the breakroom, he would provide that reassuring nod and listen with quiet solemnity at the most trivial concern from the hispanic secretaries. “And so Celia never replaces the toner and I be like, ‘maybe you need to print adouble asided'” and Paul would make anyone feel that their stupid ass complaints were valid. Paul was not the most complicated individual, but he was just the person to talk to if you had a lighthearted concern that needed confiding.