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Bell’s Two Hearted IPA, It Takes a Lot of Heart to Make a Beer Like This, TWO HEARTS

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I have been waiting and waiting for this beer for the longest time. I just anticipated it would show up some day as an extra or somehow land on my doorstep and a year later, nothing. There was something about this beer that apparently people want to drink it and not ship it across the country for free, weird I know. This is the final beer on the top 100 popular beers, so that’s also a milestone for me too. Anyway, randomly RatedZ just packed up two and shipped them to me, FOR NO REASON. The beer community’s generosity is getting out of hand.

Total eclipse of two heart

Bottled on 1/31/12, DRANKEN ON 2/23/12, the freshmaker.

Bell’s Two Hearted IPA 7% abv

A: This is a beautiful beer and is certainly worth the hype in the old looks department, this dame is a looker. Not sure about the trout on the bottle, but the carbonation is NOT FISHY AT ALL.

S: Hoppy citrus notes that feel like a westcoast throwback, super grapefruity, it hits the switches and lets the 5th wheel fall, mild pine scraper bikes are all up in the cut and supported by a mild honey but not balls out like Hopslam. The whole thing is a wonderful hop ghetto and I feel right at home.

T: The taste is very muted and gentle and imparts a slight orange rind and chinook or simcoe sort of vibe to it. It tastes bright and cheerful like an amiable old barber that happens to smell like delicious Pine Sol. The whole experience is very mild and has that balance and coercion I have come to expect from Bell’s. The hops are integrated incredibly well and doesn’t assault the palate but instead goes for a classy Oscar de la Renta tux and a modest cumberbun.

M: The wash of this beer is incredibly foamy and light, it begs for sessionability. The coating is very crisp like tongue kissing a cold pinecone covered in apricot juice. Don’t front, you’ve done it. Anyway, a very solid IPA and ranks among the best, no question. It isn’t the most offensive or gauche, but its strength is in its amiability and gentle repose. A nice hop hammock to fritter the days away.

D: If you didn’t catch the clear notes above, this is likely the most drinkable IPA out there, Hill Farmstead notwithstanding. But I ride the HF jock like a 2 Live Crew video so let’s set them aside for now. This beer is a muted lupulin ninja that strikes and disappears in an herbal cloud. It’s a classy IPA that you can take to a play, give a smooch and not try and go all the way with. Also, this beer is not of age.

Narrative:

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Duchesse De Bourgogne, The Mistress that Starts Every Man’s Sick Foray into Sours

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This is every man’s gateway drug into sours. Some people use La Folie, but this or Rodenbach is usually the potation that makes them start wiping vinegar on their gums and getting all acetic. Shit is a sad path.

Teach me how to Duchess, teach teach me how to Duchess

Duchesse De Bourgogne – flemish ale, flanders red – 6% abv

A: It looks like a maraschino cherry juice with a bit of amber added to it, a transparent stage blood color with steady cabonation, 11oz bottle pours a formidable 2.5 finger head, off pink in color. I’m not going to go for the predictable Spin Doctors joke here, so don’t ask.

This sour isn't exactly generic, but it's not exactly the best on the market. It just gets the job done like an asian Steve Jobs.

S: theres a tart bitterness to it, almost vinegar in the dryness on the nostrils, with hints of underlying sweetness. You get this juicy cherry note like skittles and a sweetness to the finish like a push pop, dont act like you didn’t mash on those so hard.

T: it starts out tart with a sour cherry note that reminds me of a wine-based jolly rancher, but rounds out to a nice sweet mellowness, no hops present on the finish, the drying effect comes up front but finishes with the sweet so it becomes for another taste. I have met people who have drank bottles of this from the 90’s back when I was in diapers still…my teenage years were…difficult.

This disguises itself as a serious sour but, eventually you will pat its head and look longingly to acetic face melters.

M: mouthfeel is as thin as the appearance connotes, its very light and watery on the palate but the dryness to it adds a bit of complexity to the chewiness, namely your own mouth lining degrading like the sands under tide.

D: It is a good beer, fun to split with someone, but not an all purpose beer. I cant see it being very civilized out of doors, not especially housebroken, but a refined anemic purebred that is for show and posterity only. However, the fleeting joy is like a puppies feet upon your shins, you just wouldn’t welcome 4 or 5 in your home, for obvious reasons.

You know she has a slight harshness to her but, you put up with it for lasting benefits.

Narrative: I didn’t think that this old metal detector would be any use, I mean, come on, what’s the likelihood that someone left GOLD TREASURE underneath the sands of Marina Del Rey? Right. The joke is on them because I found the treasure, and not in the Miramax “your friends are the true treasure” sort of way. I am talking about smoking hot redheaded seacreature treasure. It turns out, obsessively walking the beach day and night makes you pretty attractive to mythical seawomen. Yeah I said it, mermaids, big whoop yawannafightabout it? So I was walkin along minding my business and then suddenly this sweet merbroad comes out of the depths and foam, mumbling something about whozits and watzits galore. So I showed her the boot I found, the bent fork, the book of cliches, you know things you find in the ocean. She was totally stoked and took me to her underground cave lair, which I lamentably could only enjoy for a few moments before blacking out due to depth and lack of oxygen. I tell you this though, she had some PRETTY NICE THINGS. So sure, falling in love with a sweet, elusive redhead is great, but sometimes it takes a lil work ya know? Big whoop

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Southampton Imperial Russian Stout, Small Bottle Runs for Big Beer Ballers

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This brewery has a reputation, at least in my tiny sad existence, for tiny bottle runs, and massive whales. I have been trying to land their ridiculous Berliner Weiss since before it was cool to drink 2% beer, with no success. Here’s my consolation, lucky bottle #229 of all 650 of them. I like my stouts like I like my steaks, MEDIUM. If you thought I was gonna go with “rare” or “well done” that’s low hanging fruit my friends.

I didn't pour it like an asshole, this beer must have PTFD, post traumatic fedex disorder. That's a thing.

Southampton Imperial Russian Stout, 10.5% abv

A: This is about as deep and murky as it gets, T5 levels of blackness on par with Abyss and Hunaphu’s. As you can see above, the carbonation is outrageous in the classic sense of the word: causing outrage. There’s no reason for that much foam unless its the late 90’s and you have some glowsticks. The lacing is like a Baroque armoir, ornate and frilly. After about 5 minutes this excitable asshole settled down and stopped weaving tales about his Fedex journey.

There's something amazing about this beer, and it feels like I am bothering it, but that's fine because I know in its mimicry is a deep strength.

S: This is fairly muted on the palate but got better as it warmed up, like those shy recent divorcees that always order the salad. There’s some chalky chocolate, cocoa, sticky vanilla, and a subtle macaroon. Then, wearing a cape and goggles comes COFFEECOCK to dominate everything at the end. Javatastic COFFEECOCK all over the place.

T: Well if you weren’t on board with Coffeecock from the last section, you can stop now because it just goes deeper in the same vein. That was not a euphemism you sicko. There’s a bitter drying at the outset that fades into a delicious baker’s chocolate like brownie batter, and as expected, coffee, well you saw that coming. I think this is slight underrated and perhaps its the small bottle count that makes people say fuck it, like when I decided I could live without the entire Step by Step DVD box set, I can imagine what happens in Season 3. Cody gets a horse or some shit.

You can cellar this beer for 10 years and you will still be an asshole for not sharing.

M: This beer has a huge sticky coating that lingers well after the first drink. The coating just sticks and does operation grill maker over in short order. The coffee and deep chocolate makes you feel like you were just mashing on some serious bowl licking for hours on end. Don’t act like the foul spatula of indulgence has not soiled your lips.

D: This isn’t exceptionally drinkable unless you have insatiable salivary glands and a post-menopausal rapacity for chocolate. That hits a fairly small niche, maybe the coveted pre-pubescent market is what they were seeking but I am pretty sure 9 year olds dont have Fedex accounts. Or…do…they….

fucking around with a beer this big seems like an inherently bad idea.

Narrative: Baron Southampton was the regal son of Lord August FitzRoy, but the cut of his jib was not unremarkable. He knew that this title was entirely created by his hateful old father as a fading sign of regal power in the days of an expanding merchant class. Just across the channel the barbarous franco-massacre had run the cobblestone streets red with the blood of an oppressive regime, leaving the largely mercantile class staring with despondence at the titled land owners. Baron didn’t give a shit. He spent the majority of his days walking the regal gardens, burying items of value in a spiteful manner to hide them, throwing rocks at the champion hunting dogs, and berating the help for streaking the sterling silver. This dark tiny master hated the opulence that he was subjected to and lashed out accordingly. He wished to be one of the masses and apprentice in a trade, press the rough hands of the working classes and see the Carolinas. Sadly, the common man would never look upon a Southampton, and he knew it. The Southamptons were few but poised, out of reach of the commoners but held just close enough to remind them of their failings. His cousin from Austria Count Berliner Vyass was the most acerbic asshole from his lineage. He did not even allow the proletariate to look upon him at all. They were rare and untouchable, that’s basically the, that’s the jist here, it’s what the underlying narrative is trying to convey, in case you missed it, just tossing you a bone.

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Central Waters Kosmyk Charlie Y2K Catastrophe Ale, Willenium Jams Bumping so Hard Right Now

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What’s gonna happen, ain’t nobody know, two zero zero zero the new millenium, hold up, Willenium.

It's hard to write a review when you are listening to Will2k on repeat

CWKCY2kCA, 10% abv American Barleywine

A: The beer looks like a burnt penny that comes from an age that remembers the value of pennies as something more than things to flick at small children. There’s some mild lacing that peaces out pretty quickly, patting its pockets like it hasn’t a dime to spare, but we know better. It is a deep amber with no lacing and a strange wateriness to it. Not even mad tho.

I got this beer as an extra thinking it was an English Barleywine, not even mad tho.

S: There is a burnt toffee, basically burnt everything like they reduced the malt too deeply in the boil with a 240 minute harassment session. Mild hops for the style, sticky marshmellow, and a general sort of Payday smell to it. Relax, go nuts, that whole bit.

T: There is a huge smoky brown sugar like old mammy done burned the oatmeal, then there’s a piney bitterness that shows me where all those high alpha acid assholes retreated to in the boil. It has a mild raisin sort of finish that thankfully doesn’t make the final cut entirely hoppy. The entire finish is very pleasant.

I hate when people reject an amazing beer based on its color alone. So much derp. Derp everywhere.

M: It is very light and not as boozy as I had expected for a 10% abv beer. There’s some light malty residue but it comes off so fresh and so clean clean. However, your girlfriend and friends will not drink this shit. Let’s not delude ourselves craft nerd, come now. Shave that neckbeard and join the rest of the world in enjoying a shocktop if you have those delusions.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable in the way that a Bad Girls Club marathon is consumable. You will feel like shit after a few, but it secretly makes you stronger.

This beer is threatening, but familiar at the same time. I can get on board with it.

Call it a cop out, but I am too tuckered out for a narrative, enjoy this meme instead:

ULTIMATE MEME MASH UP

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Pannepot 2005 Grand Reserva, Because I Had So Many Amazing Memories of Nothing From 2005

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Oh well, another day and another top 100 beer, ho hum, just another day in the life of a gosh darn overseer.

This review is actually the ultra-baller 2005 Grand Reserve bottling of Pannepot, but oh well, you get the idea, ONLY MORE BALLER.

Pannepot 2005 Grand Reserva, Quad, 10% abv

A: deep chocolate brown with a slightly offwhite head that produces nice lacing. Not exceptional carbonation but it is the 2005 batch so complaints dont seem to be in order, henceforth, the beggars become the choosers.

I wasn't a huge fan of quads but, after you have some top tier shit, you want to catch em all.

S: This seems to be its weakest trait with the anticipated huge dark fruit bouquet being rather muted, more of just a general sweetness without pronounced notes, it’s like when I tried to learn Clarinet, you know the greatness was there, the notes were just a little fucked up.

T: The smell does not indicate the incredibly rich profile of this beer, deep roasted almond notes, burnt currant, s;ightly boozy character with minimal heat that is displaced by a nice finishing sweetness. The taste more than makes up for any other shortcomings, it’s a rich kiss from uncle quad and there’s serious boozy wincest.

I know I am experiencing something amazing but at the same time, I can't help but feel like a total piece of shit for not sharing.

M: the mouthfeel lingers for just enough time, but leaves you wanting more, like each song in the first 2 Ramones albums. The coating is just long enough to make an impression, but not long enough to be overwhelming. As far as quads go, this is pretty light on the maltiness and I think given the character of the fruit notes, it is better as a result

D: Most quads wear out their welcome either due to overpowering booziness or an expansive maltiness that takes over your palate and stomach like japanese kudzu. this is a great beer that you could substitute for any beer in its class and people would welcome the complex sweet notes and high abv. Give this to any Newcastle drinker and bankrupt your friends overnight.

Struise are in Europe but I pretty much imagine shit is popping off like this after hours

Narrative: This was easily the worst High School Reunion that Jacob mellors had ever been to, and he had seen his fair share. His obsession of crashing High School Reunions started simple enough, play the role of the muted Magic the Gathering player, the forgotten 4th chair trombone, lay low. It worked like clockwork, the open bar started flowing, old enemies regailing each other with carrer conquest exploits, soon Jacob, soon. His latent abilities went far beyond the scope of the pedestrian masses that he regailed. At the strike of each gala, 3 hours in, he would emerge as the forgotten socialite besting the former nerds in volairean wit, intimidating the portly former jocks with a panache and bravado that oozed confidence. It was this latent power that fed him at night, the knowledge that his unknown ability was his greatest asset. However, he could not drink so much that night as it was mid-november and class reunion season was in full swing.

1

Bruery Marron Acidifie, This Sour Will Give You Acidife Reflux, But in a Tight GI WAY

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Here’s another oversight from days past. This was an incredible sour that I just assumed would be everywhere, always, forever so I didn’t buy enough and here we are, I am ruminating on beer’s loves past and there’s a Who’s The Boss marathon on. It’s not rock bottom, but it is google mapped on the way.

Stupid sours getting in the way of my cutty Corona pics.

Marron Acidifie – Sour Brown Ale – The Bruery 8.5% abv

A: Deep brown with a ruby hint at the edges, mild carbonation with soft bubbles, just look up there, god damnit, how much can I hand hold you through this process?

This beer is dark, but inviting. But with the hidden alcohol, you know a dark surprise awaits.

S: There is a crisp vinegar/acetic note and the cherry notes start giving your olfactory senses the business, with tart sweetness lingering. You get an imperial grenadine aspect to this dangerous beer.

T: Supremely refreshing bite at the outset which sets into a tart bitterness and cherry tastes that mellow out after swallowing. Great cleanse and finish to the palate, like biting into a crisp sour red apple, if such a thing even exists. It tastes like the sweet blood of a sour patch child.

THIS BEER MAKES ME SO MANY FEELS

M: Thin but unpredictable, this beer doesn’t coat that well but it doesn’t need to, it is too busy avoiding your phone calls after it wrecked your hotel room. The light body with big bite makes this incredibly unbalanced but ridiculously delicious. Give this to someone who “isn’t a beer person” and watch as their conceptions fall to pieces after you forcefully drag them out of Plato’s cave and show them the sour side of life.

D: Absolutely fantastic. Give me this while I am chopping wood, making beef jerky, or snowmobiling and it will be right at home doing MAN STUFF. Alternatively, it is refined enough that you can serve it at the foreign delegate convention and there will not be a dry monocle in the house. All day, every day, I want more please.

It is not only delicious but it holds an endearing quality that you will not forget. No it is not "retarded" like this highhanded comedy above.

Narrative: OH GREAT JUST MY LUCK, THE ONLY JOB INTERVIEW I CAN LAND AND HE’S HERE. It wasn’t the first time that your life dreams had been stifled by Reuben “Ruby” Tartstein. From the spelling bee where he cooly not only spelled every word but gave the entymology as well, to the senior prom where he won both king and queen with his androgynous air. I CAN NEVER SEEM TO SHAKE THIS POISED BASTARD, AND WHO WEARS AN AMBER SUIT TO A JOB INTERVIEW. It seems like this guy can pull anything off, charities, lumberjack competitions, fencing; he does it all. No matter how badly he abuses you, you know he means well and it is just the mark of an eccentric genius. “And it became quite evident why they call it KEYnsian economics at THAT POINT!” The receptionst burst into laughter at his high handed jokes. You cannot compete with this man, but you love him just the same.

1

Upright Fantasia, Come Along and Ride on a Fantasia Tick Voyage. Coolio References 50% Off

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Here’s a familiar situation, a small run of rare Oregon beers come out, for two week you sit back and watch everyone ask for Blabaer, Vanilla Dark Lord, Black Note (read: things I have already reviewed on this site) and then after two weeks, the reality sets in and people become more reasonable. This is no exception. I have to thank a super generous trader for hooking me up with this peach gem. Absolute Peach O ring all up in my dome piece.

Plenty of peach sours rolling out these days, life is NOT THE PITS.

Upright Brewing, Fantasia, 5.75% abv

A: This has a golden hue to it, like the wild ale that the Argonauts were seeking out. There’s minimal wispy carbonation that just gets phoned in like 11:30 am orders to Dominos on a Sunday. But hey, this ain’t your first rodeo, you know how wild ales roll, all go and no show homie.

Me complaining about this rare peach beer not being sour enough is the pinnacle of first world problems.

S: There’s an acidic and musky nose to it that reminds me kinda of Stetson cologne but with a huge peach waft to it. It reminds me of puberty, smells like awkward kids who need deodorant and sticky peach o ring hands. I like it, not pubescent kids, peach O rings and drinks derived therefrom.

T: This has a fantastic (ba dum tish) crisp initial sweetness of basically anything made by Haribou, nice peachy tang to it that doesn’t overly dominate on the sour spectrum, but it reminds me that life ain’t all about cash money hoes, all a sour knows. There’s a tartness that resounds into a chardonnay sweet note without the oaky dryness. It almost reminds me of a classy ass energy drink, for those discerning truckers who need to jack off en route, but balance it out with a high brow beverage.

Unlike these generic asshats, I would actually seek this beer out again. This beer will actually make it.

M: The coating on this beer is super crisp like juice and doesn’t coat that well, but it would be weird if it had some malty ass base, syrupy peach goopiness. So not a whole lot to comment here, go sip some peach juice mixed with some grapefruit tartness and you’ll get the drying effect down dead on. I don’t need to pad out each section ok, it’s like this one guy I met from Portland said, oh out of space on to the next section-

D: This is incredibly, edibly drinkable. I could cold clock this bottle like a session sour and it has a strange resemblance to a shitty unblended lambic that I once made, albeit, this is the perfect version. My shit 2000 and late. Another crazy aspect to this is it’s relatively low alcohol content and delicious crisp finish makes me wish that I had a solid case of this to share with the bros at Havasu, me and the brahs just chilling at Coachella cracking sick brews and listening to Arcade Fire, a totally solid band.

This beer tears up my gumline, but I forgive it.

Narrative: In the early 16th century life was devoid of peaches for the most part, and all the canon of musical theory was rigid and predicated largely on ecclesiastic works. Then a tree of divine mystery sprang in a Prussian grove, shattering the rigid contemplative nature of formal music. It was really just rotting peaches, but, when moves into the country they inevitably will eat a lot of peaches. With enough fermenting and pitting, the sugars turned out some majestic works in C minor for the clavichord. Baroque composers were known to beat their mistresses savagely after imbibing the strange succor of peach alcohol. This carried stringent, diaphanous connotations. On one hand, the lithe tones of the Fantasia school created a refreshing lightness, it also meant 16th century wives got pounded on in more than a euphemistic fashion.

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Deschutes The Abyss Imperial Stout, Total Abyss of the Heart

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Every time this beer comes out, I shrug it off as a “widely available” top 100 stout and act like I dont want it. Then I can’t get it and the butt hurt ensues. Anyway, I landed this the old fashioned way from Sunset Beer in Echo Park and figured now is as good a time as ever to start giving sick props to this gem that most people have already had their way with.

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I opened this at my housewarming party when I bought a house and pretty much everyone wanted nothing to do with it. My house was all the warmer with this potation lighting up my chest like E.T.

Deschutes The Abyss, light pilsner, PSYCHE, Imperial Stout, 11% abv

A: This looks like an Exxon valdez rampage. Pure black with shimmering darkness like the gulf of mexico. Huge khaki carbonation with sticky lacing. If you spill this on your clothes, just throw them out. No middle carbonation, at least not much that I can see. It reminds me of those villains from Pirates of Dark Water, oh well, Google it I guess, my jokes aren’t for everyone, you gotta earn that shit.

Ever since I started drinking Abyss, I never win because these stouts make you fat as fuck

S: There is a huge chocolate profile, not similar to most stouts, it registers sweeter more of a syrupy bitterness like those bags of syrup you add to soda machines but with a ton of awesome coffee balance. As a side note, I feel like Deschutes sometimes ends up with too much sugar attenuation and they defy the status quo here with this chocolate syrupy note that remains balanced.

T: Very sweet on the first taste that coats the bitter zones with an overwhelming hop presence that subsides into a tarpit of gooey coffee notes. The heat is there but the alcohol is overridden by almost distracting sweet notes. It is reminiscent of if you subjected a normal stout to a 120 min boil. It just feels like stout concentrate in a good way.

I only got a single bottle of Abyss this year and I was all like this as a result.

M: I can’t overstate this enough, it coats harder than a single guy at 1:45 a.m. at a club. Chocolate robitussin with teeth staining presence. It will linger with you, whether you want it to or not.

D: I don’t know what crazy cold conditions or type of Siberian misery that I would have to endure to put away several bottles of this away. Perhaps the people in Bend Oregon have a tough gulag life that I can’t comprehend from my Mediterranean climate throne but one 22 oz bottle of this is plenty, anyone who “wishes” for another bomber seems questionable, but understandable.

Making a beer this delicious and alcoholic just seems like a dangerous idea.

Narrative: “So this is how product liability lawsuits happen,” Warren Dolce thought as the maroon viscous liquid glugged out of the cocoa butter vat and all over the factory floor. “Of all the things to skimp on, I don’t think that the pressure control valve and the blow off valve were proper,” he reflected “at least not for the chocolate refining tank.” Thousands of wanting Cadburry eggs would remain wanting frosting yokes, in endosperm stasis. The chocolate crude gurgled up to his jaw line and Warren reflected, “perhaps the basement lock was not the way to cut costs either, here I am, 3 floors down, about to endure the prophetic Death By Chocolate, to be honest, I kinda always knew that it would end this way.” He exhaled into the mucilaginous depths watching the bubbles struggle to the surface. “A sweet death, to be sure, but who will finish my screen pl-”

3

Mikkeller 10 IPA, Oh wow, ten types of hops, hold on let me call the Prime Minister

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Oh wow, another one of those cute vintage reviews that you have to suffer through, back when I was all serious and hardline on beer content that no one gives a fuck about. Oh well, just suck it up, I am sure there will be some slams against community college students soon enough.

MIkkeller Ten, Ten Times as expensive as things you can just get from California.

Mikkeller 10, IPA, 6.9%

A: it appears traditional enough, orange hues with light amber hues, HUGE foamy head that is relentless and annoying like Jehovas witness followers. The head lingers like a watchtower pamphlet to your chagrin.

No amount of cute hedgehogs can make this beer worthwhile.

S: smell has a huge floral bouquet that raises itself like an avenging ghost for thousands of fallen hop friends, it reminds me of those angry flowers in Ursula’s cave in the Little Mermaid that are relentless and drag you back for more.

T: The taste is fairly predicatable, with some bittering notes and some herbal finish but nothing to really make it fall out of the rank and file of standard IPAs, with the exception of a nice maltiness that links up with a sort of herbal finish that makes it delicious, but inaccessible and cumbersome to enjoy at length due to cost prohibitions.

Would I like to pay for another overpriced Mikkeller beer? No. I always say no.

M: the mouthfeel is awesome with great balance for the single IPA style, very drinkable and a superbly balanced IPA for the new-comer, it is a college freshman dewey eyed and receptive to many tastes, with reciprocal affection in turn.

D: This beer is exceptionally drinkable, economically infeasible. There are cheaper alternatives that are better suited and better equipped. Go with those, leave this section alone unless you find a patch of it exceptionally cheap.

It's a mediocre IPA, get over it and drink something else. Space Gorilla has spoken.

Narrative: “wait wait, the MSRP on this car is only 20 grand, how did this final invoice total over FORTY THOUSAND?!” The auto dealer sighed and decided to err on the side of propriety “well, when you walked through the doors of Encino Hyundai, I knew that was a man who likes comfort and the finer things in life, so sure, I could have put you in a run of the mill Elantra and think nothing of it” “yes that is exactly what I was looking for” “BUT THEN i thought, no, you know what, what is a car without a suede roof, prada leather, 4 navis, and optional hydrogen cells” The car gleamed under 7 clear coats and was quite a sight to look at, but at the core of it, a mediocre compact sedan that has been polished to a strange refinement. The core experience is nothing to write home about, however, a certain panache has driven up the price inexplicably. “Listen I am not saying that the ostrich interior is too gaudy, it is, but I just cant afford this.” The car dealer looked remonstratively at the car and ruefully pointed to the fishtank in the truck. “Well….can I show you our new…Santa Fes?”

0

Three Floyd’s Behemoth Barleywine, She Works Hard at Eating Well, That’s Why I Love Her

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This is a fav. amongst the midwest kids who like their barleywines big, boozy, and slutty. Finally a barleywine more epickz than the Soulja Boy v. Ice T conflict.

Behemoth is one of my least favorite Final Fantasy monsters. Such an asshole.

Here, enjoy some Zozo Behemoth music while you read this:

Three Floyds Behemoth Barleywine, 10.5% abv

A: The appearance looks like a malty double ipa with a faint gold but notes of deep honey. There’s some wispy lacing and hydrophilic foaminess, and, like a Lewis Black set, it burns itself out pretty quickly and mellows.

Deer god this has a lot of hops for a barleywine, as true today as when it was written.

S: The smell is that of a malty east coast IPA, oh how they love those balanced profiles. This seems like a quintessential American Barleywine, which is basically to say that it smells like a “triple” IPA. I know that category is still in vogue but that is basically what is going on here. There’s a huge sweetness and honey backing to the nose with a really mild vanilla but seriously, it’s citrus hops through and through, C-word hops: Chinook, Cascade, Cetc.

T: The taste has a sweet malty beginning like an unglazed cinnamon roll that quickly turns bitter and rolls into conifer Christmas tree sale extravaganza. The label promised “caramel malt notes” which admittedly are accounted for, but that’s like saying that a car has a powerful v8 engine and fail to mention that it is connected to a motorhome. I am not saying this is a bad beer, but it just has too much emotional baggage to be worth dealing with its massive malty rack. You weigh your options.

Not sure if above image is relevant.

M: The mouthfeel is sticky and sweet that maintains that same clinginess analogy from the last section, but this time it imparts a lasting sticky pine sap taste along the gumline that reminds me of when I would taste my hands after climbing trees. Whatever, you had a childhood once too, stop looking at me like I’m some deviant tree taster.

D: I guess this could range from “yeah fucking right” to “wow, that’s 10.5% abv? I will have another.” I guess it all comes down to how little you care for your liver or seeing the sun rise. If you want to see those majestic ruby pillars caress the sky and coax a new day of illumination, then stick to lagers, this will drill you like a BP exec. Except this beer won’t apologize. Overall I would say it is unbalanced, hoppy, aggressive and might get better with age, just like BUCKY O’ HARE (first Bucky O’ Hare site reference.)

This beer is ambitious but just a bit off the mark.

Narrative: Behe Mot was just an archaic monster trying to adapt to a changing world of sin. He rented a modest condo in Ithaca to embrace his bulging grotesque frame, and draped himself in clothes from Charlotte Rousse so no one would think twice. The truth was that terrorizing the vices out of people was a whole different game since the Book of Job. It was the pulpit of irony that Behe Mot was originally created as a scourge for questioning God because, as he stood in line for the Cinnabon, he himself questioned the existence of a God. The extra dollar for nuts and frosting seems hateful and punitive in a way the Hebrews never envisioned. For the mountains bear food for him, and all the beasts of the field play there, but no one is down to fuck old Behe Mot. At least leviathan would land some of that sweet sea tang, poor Mr. Mot had a life of fatal obscurity, for only God could release him from the hell that was an upstate New York food court.