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Cantillon 50 Degrees North 40 Degrees East, Things Are Getting Geographic Real Quick

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Bust out your compasses, we are going wale hunting in today’s review. As if slaying normal loonz isn’t enough, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 2007. The deal behind this beer is Jean Van Roy took his inimitable gueuze and found an incredible Cognac distillery and aged it for 2 years in barrels from that distillery. You know how membranes of a mitochondria fold in upon themselves to generate more ATP? That is what is going on here, except this is churning out purified RAR. Let’s get loonzy in today’s review.

I hope your harpoon is sharp, or your Paypal fishing vessel is well stocked.

Cantillon 50n4e
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 7.00% ABV

A: The appearance of the beer is an almost tame affair. The golden hues of the normal gueuze are present albeit with a deeper golden aspect to it and minimal lacing. There’s very little carbonation but, at this point, I could give a fuck less about some carb issues. Go buy a Fantome or an Upland lambic and call it even after you clean the beer off your ceiling.

Cantillon one offs? You can only look like a total asshole asking for moar.

S: There’s a strange interplay of elements here, you get the classic musk and lemon zest from the Cantillon gueuze, but there’s a deep sweetness and caramel candy finish to the nose that wraps the two together like a candied granny smith apple with booze. The cognac seems to have faded a bit, but it feels like a more balanced product as a result.

T: The taste is an incredible Chimera of elements going on. At first the beer presents a tart acidity like a freshly cut grapefruit with some blood orange zest, then the e-brake is pulled and this shit flips faster than an Integra being driven by a 17 year old hmong kid. The beer magically turns into this sweet mellow golden aspect with tastes similar to caramel, toffee, macaroons, and a lingering boozy sweetness like brandy, or, more properly, cognac. This whole affair is strange, like making out with a beautiful asian girl and then finding out she is actually a beautiful Bolivian girl. You aren’t even mad, just confused as shit as to what is going on.

At a certain point, I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and lingers with this swirling interplay of acidity and sweet baked biscuits. While the gueuze is disassembling your gumline, the sweet notes are reapply a sumptuous new ceiling on the roof of your mouth. Ultimately, your mouth becomes a public works project for strange ends.

D: This is not the most drinkable beer, even setting rarity aside. I really enjoyed it, but it is only fair to judge this against those that it shoulders ranks with. I personally enjoy Fou Foune and St. Lam much more than this “interesting” gem. If this Cantillon were on Match.com, all the sections would talk about how it does roller derby and has “such a great personality.” Don’t put a ring on it.

So they took this one thing and added it…to this other….thing….

Narrative: “Why are mommy and daddy fighting?” Baby Cognac wondered as she watched her parents tear apart their small abode. “OH OH OK THIS IS RICH! NOW IT’S….CAN I FINISH? LET ME FINISH!” Papa Gueuze was in one of his booze filled rages after a family outing. It had been chaos since they stepped into that Macaroni Grill and the din of excitement had now reached its sweet fever pitch. “Oh…SURE SURE….revert back to that, let’s focus on THAT ONE TIME AGAIN!” Mama Applezest was brandishing a large cutco knife and threatening no one in particular. Baby Cognac attempted to reconcile this hectic environment with her chaotic upbringing. No one wanted to visit, no one wanted to stay, but little cognac baby still had high hopes for later aging. She would get a pink VW Bug for her birthday to make up for the abuse living in that barrel of a home.

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Alpine Brewing Company, McIlHenney’s Irish Red, Gettin Some Red, Get Getting Some Red

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I seldom go off the hoppy path with Alpine. Their hoppy offerings are beyond reproach and represent the cadre of the best that each style has to offer: Hoppy Bday, Bad Boy, Pure Hoppiness, Exponential Hoppiness- ALL AMAZING. Their less hoppy offerings can be a bit questionable. Today’s we turn to the red side to see what they have to offer in the way of hoppiness, everlasting hoppiness.

Alpine McIlHenney’s Irish Red
Alpine Beer Company
California, United States
Irish Red Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: Big shocker here, the appearance has a deep rub red note with a solid amber that resonates throughout. It is a little light on the lacing and carbonation, but it isn’t entirely a drawback. Again, I strongly dislike this style so it could be dead on and I would still be a shitwaffle complaining about the inherent qualities.

CARAMAWL MAWLTS AND HAWPS, now kith.

S: Huge caramel sweetness and dry hop bitterness. There’s some belgianesque turbinado dark sugar notes but it is more caramel than dark fruits. The resins from the hops are nice but ultimately wish I was drinking one of the other Alpine hop warheads.

T: The caramel has a mild sweetness on the front end that is very refreshing. The middle body has a pleasant hop profile that is a careful balance between the agro hops that alpine is famous for and a swift drink ability that is exceptional.

The perfect beer for a moment of calm reflection.

M: The mouthfeel is very light and gives less coating than even the standard pale ale. Given the purpose of this beer, it is fantastic as a result. If this beer were chewier, it would miss the mark. Again, the sweetness, hops, and thin crisp finish give it a solid lineup.

D: This is very drinkable and is strangely memorable for how subtlety it imparts its presence and then give you a calm high five and takes off. It comes off like a friend you haven’t seen in a while that doesn’t hang around all morning after a night of solid drinking. I don’t know if this is representative of most irish people, but it seems like a pretty solid homie.

You can come from a proud crew, but that doesn’t make you amazing by proxy.

Narrative: The family knew Uncle McHenney had a serious problem, but they addressed it with that sort of amiable sweetness that you could expect from relatives in denial. “I mean, who hasn’t brought a flask to a funeral and thrown up at the wake?” Aunt Marjorie questioned the group. The family all nodded and chuckled playfully at Uncle Mc in the bathtub, gurgling gaelic swears to himself. “I don’t want to start pointing fingers here and ‘oh you defecated in my boss’s fish tank’ there, I love old Uncle Mc, and that’s all there is to it.” Like a magical irish spell, Uncle McHenney rose to his feet and gave all the onlookers sticky high fives. “Ehh foyour te toif? Yeah, yeah, that’s when yafakking knoew the knackers to have the noids!” Uncle McHenney exclaimed as he bolted out of the room, leaving sticky boot prints across the new berber carpet. “OH UNCLE MC!” the youngest exclaimed, shrugging her shoulders.

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Cantillon Fou Foune, Loonz Beside Me, Swerving Through Traffic with my Founes Behind Me

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Enough killing off 2 liter growlers like Spaniards and Native Americans, time to get back to our Belgian roots. I don’t need to really say anything about this beer 1) it is Cantillon 2) it is their inimitable apricot fruited lambic, Fou Foune. People always get their stone fruits all juiced whenever this beer gets brought up, opened, or even discussed. I once took this to Cabo and drank it on the Tropic of Cancer, and it was an Italian bottle of Foune. So that means it went from Belgium, to Italy, to Ireland, to Florida, to California, to Cabo San Lucas. That beer is more well-traveled than most Americans from Alabama. Anyway, let’s get that juicy juice in today’s review:

Sipping Foune in Cabo, well this Friday now appears immeasurably shittier.

It’s like in Cold Mountain when Jude Law looks a pic of his long lost love and, wait what-

Fou Foune
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: This has that classic turbid Cantillon straw meets orange juice sort of pulpiness to it, but the frothy carbonation seems inviting like a water park that is just clean enough to seem legit. The lacing is minimal but, did you really expect some massive frothy nitrogen head? You unrealistic bitch.

Send her an apricot lambic, girls be loving apricot lambics.

S: I can’t begin to tell you how amazing this beer smells just short of taking you to a Kentucky apricot orchard and rubbing sweet straw in your face. Maybe pull a Jansport backpack over your head, squeeze a bit of peach and crabapples onto your face, get things real tawdry up in this mix. That’s essentially the experience, but is it ever inviting. Some people like aging this, other haters just open it fresh and let God sort it all out. I have had both, EVEN ON DRAFT, and it is amazing regardless of circumstance.

T: This takes the old lactic base and musky wet leaves from the OG gueuze and dials things up a notch to a nice apricot meets acidity level that is impressive through and through. There’s an intense apricot skin and dryness that hits your gumline with nana’s peach preserves in town and light sort of biscuit quality that just gets its head held underwater mercilessly by the delicious acidity.

Fou is like an old friend who comes back from the past to warn you about a Founeless future.

M: This is crisp and dry like biting into a granny smith apple that happens to be coated in chardonnay and peach jam. The balance is incredible despite the excoriating acidity, and the 750 never lasts as long as you expect. I would suggest seeking some out but most trades for this beer are one way streets. It is an anomalous situation where people trade for Fou, but no one ever gives up a Foune. FEEL ME.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and will give you gurgle guts on par with the State Fair. But like the deep fried Pepsi, it is entirely worth it. This is a world class fruited lambic and it is better than Blabaer. I said it. I defy you to find someone who believes differently.

Running out of Foune is strangely disturbing.

Narrative: Kelly Chancery seemed sweet enough. She gave her friends rides to school in her lemon yellow Mini Cooper, never asked for gas money, and even tutored the water polo athletes due to their abject inability to circumscribe triangles. Deep down, she hated each and every one of them. At age 12 her parents sent her to a strict Belgian exercise summer camp. She was served nothing but overly ripe pitted fruits and engaged in vinegar diets and extensive cleanses. Her taste buds were so badly burned in the enterprise that she returned a jaded, bitter shell of herself, figuratively and literally. “Hey Taeler! Hop on it! Are those Rock N REPUBLIC!? OMG you are such a hot BITCH!” she quipped and stared down her brow as she grinded her mandible. The tiny convertible held 50 lbs of explosive materials and ammonia nitrate in the trunk. She sucked deeply onto her Lemon Sucrets and waited for that sour day that she would burn them all. Kelly Chancery only seemed sweet enough, she was sour to the core.

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Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, Three Hour Tour, For People Who Like to Drink Milk Stouts While Shipwrecked

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Another 2 liter, draft only adventure? That’s how we do it on this site, always on the grizzy. Anyway, this little gem pops its head up once a month on the top 100 and has consistently solid ratings so what’s a ticker to do, for every thousand I rate, another relative sues. Someone told me that they only filled 50 growlers of this, so guess we have another draft only rarity on our hands. Just another day on this site, I know. A gracious CO local hooked up this MN growler and I gave it the business and was left with a sticky sweet milk stout mustache. Does my body good.

I would need more than just 2 liters of beer if I was going on a Three Hour Tour. Step up your oceanic mariner game, Minnesota.

Three Hour Tour
Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery
Minnesota, United States
Milk / Sweet Stout | 6.10% ABV

A: This is going to be a huge shocker, it is a lightly frothy baby stout with wispy carbonation and playful little baby duck carbonation that bobs in the quay. Just look at it, it is too adorable to finish an entire growler of. After taking down 20% beers, a 6% stout feels like something you drink in between racquetball sets or during a crossfit workout. It has dark hues at the center and light mocha at the edges, adorable all around.

This beer reminds you of sweet things from your childhood, only…different…

S: This is sweeeet. Maybe even more “e”‘s are warranted. There’s definitely the lactose element and it comes across as a achingly decadent milk chocolate like those janky chocolate rabbits you get at easter time. Shit gets Cadburry real quick with a mild coconut and vanilla batter aspect. This doesn’t scream stout, it calls out cocoa liqueur.

T: This is light and again, just a diabetic’s worst nightmare, sticky cavity inducing sugars through and through. The sweetness came off as a bit synthetic with this sort of oiliness in the finish that just seemed out of place for a milk stout at 6% abv. You get the chocolate and the Nestle Quik thing going on and the finish is like an Almond Joy that went through the wash, crumpled up in your JNCO jeans.

I find myself questioning the authenticity of the coconut in earnest.

M: This is incredibly light but at the same time spraypaints a line of glucose all the way down your throat so that you aren’t super stoked to take the next shockingly sweet sip. I can handle sweet stouts, I take 50/50 Eclipse to the face like a Brazzer’s video, but when you don’t have a solid malt base to level things out, it comes across like chocolate Kool-Aid with far too many residual sugars. I dislike char in general, but this needed something to level the 6-4 frame out to keep on rolling on those 808 drums.

D: This would be exceptionally drinkable in every aspect if not for the cloying sweetness. You know those was bottles with the juice in them? The juice is great, but you dont need all this pageantry when you just want juice. Similarly, if you stripped out this adjunct coconut aspect, you would have a solid porter, and I would be fine with that. This was just too much for my childish palate and reminded me of Darklord 64.

Tickers be so quick to upload beer complaints. I will upload my beer diploma never.

Narrative: “Dr. Ira? The Kensington boy is waiting for you in bay 4,” the dental technician called and pulled the x-rays for Dr. Ira to review. “God. Damnit,” Ira stated to himself as he looked upon the monochrome disaster. It was like this every 6 months, the tattered enamel looking more porous and similar to a drive by shooting in an MS13 neighborhood. “Well Brayden, I don’t need to tell you anything you don’t know. Have you been using ACT as we discussed?” Brayden folded his arms and wiped a streak of milk chocolate from his stained lips. He looked as though he ate a box of Milk Duds just prior to walking into the office. “Well Brayden, you see, your teeth, you have them for your entire life and that means-” as he continued Brayden pulled out a Fundip and began judiciously applying coats of powdered sugar to his teeth as the fluoride was washing away. “This child has no regard for his dental well being, he cares only for the sweet decadence of mandibular destruction!” Dr. Ira called out in a strangely effusive manner to the other Chatsworth Dental patients.