0

Cascade Sang Royal, In Oregon they Call Sours a Royale With Cheese, They Have the Metric System.

|

When I first started drinking sours, I would go fuck around and try those $20 normal Cascade sours, and they would beat my ass mercilessly. I landed this beer to show it I’m not afraid of it. It’s like Pennywise the Clown, except I’m getting drunk in California instead of Maine. Holy mixed metaphors.

Another gem from Oregon's artisan beer scene. WHERE THEY BE GETTING ALL THE CHERRIES FROM THO.

Cascade Sang Royal, 9.35% abv, Wild Ale

I can’t hype this beer anymore than saying it is a pretty rare sour and here’s what the bottle has to say about itself, unabashedly: “Sang Royal is a big NW Style Sour Red Ale that spends over six months of lactic fermentation and aging in oak wine barrels. Sang Royal is from select stock that is matured an additional six months in Port barrels and refermented on Bing Cherries.” Alright, let’s do this shit.

A: The appearance is a deep murky ruby that looks like a burnt brick color that barely gives up the ruby when you put some light on it. Give a guy some ruby, ya know? It’s got an eggwhite frothy head with microbubbles that dont go anywhere, they just post up in the chill zone and look all light maroon.

When I knew that there was a box with 4 of these gems coming to my house, I looked like this all week, watching for the Fedex man.

S: You get a sour fuji apple smell, tart candy, sour ropes, maraschino cherry, and sour warhead smells. This has a great smell to it and doesn’t introduce a wide bevy of funk to the olfactory aspects. The OLFACTORY IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS. If you agitate it, much like a Django Reinhardt concert, things get mildly funky.

T: This has a huge tart bite at the outset that reminds me of those skittles that used to be covered in sugar and road salt. It pans away to a wide shot of two cherries, both tart to the core acrimoniously discussing the ongoings of the plum factory. Starwipe to the headmaster grape who oversees the entire operation and roll the credits. This isn’t as sour as the lambic and crazy geuze painstrippers overseas but it is a great sour with tons of stone fruit and juiciness to it to compliment the initial sour shock that it presents. It’s like that movie KIDS, where you think it’s just gonna be overwhelming and shock footage but then they reel you in, except this beer doesn’t rape a teenage girl at the end. Oh, spoiler alert.

This beer is a hybrid of something badass and something dirty, but the result is a sick cherry massacre.

M: The mouthfeel is dry, as you can expect from something this juicy and tart, the old gumline deconstruction sets to work hard with those juicy juice notes drilling your soft enamel like pilsbury crescent rolls. AND YOU NEVER GET ENAMEL BACK.

D: This beer becomes more drinkable as it warms because the cherries finally get their shit together and stop letting sour just hit on their chicks and they mobilize an offensive. I could put away a bottle of this, but then the pesky lambic tum tum sets in and you get the bubbleguts due to the crazy acidity so I GUESS you should share this one. For the haters.

A couple bottles of this and I'd be communicating with a bell asking for more sour cherry potations.

Narrative: The broken Stairclimber took on a life of its own at this Winnipeg gym. Carl Delgado sat 10 meters away and just enjoyed the scene, shrewdly sipping his cherry smoothie, enjoying the deeply puckering acidity boosts that he added to it. “So obviously Kaitlyne is THREATENED BY ME-” a frail minx of 19 years prattled on into her iPhone while blindly ascending onto the 5 foot high platform. She was promptly served a platter of shit and swiftly caressed the sweet embrace of the collapsed stairs and recounted the potential for legal action to her equally vapid phone counterpart. Carl nodded and smiled, this was better than the entire CBS lineup. With this endless spring of dark, sour levity, how would he move on to other pursuits? He could watch college undergrads simply fall down all day long. A sip of sour cherry smoothie was all he needed to garner contentment in his soul.

2

Cantillon Blabaer. After An Entire Year of Searching, I Finally Land My White Whale

|

FINALLY. After an entire year of searching, countless internet posts, unsolicited mail sent to people all over the place, and Craigslist Casual Sour Encounters that went awry: I finally tried Cantillon Blabaer. This beer is rated #9 on the top 100 beers of all time and it is 2 scissoring bitches to land. This beer is made in cooperation with Jeppe from Olbuttikken in Copenhagen. Jeppe provides the blueberries for the beer,and it is brewed at Cantillon and then shipped back to Copenhagen and only sold at Olbutikken. There are only approximately 400 bottles sold each year, really fucking far away. That shit cray.

2009 vintage 750 ml with berries firing on all cylinders, tasting like escort gumline and Wild Grape Squeezits. THE WHITEST OF WALES.

Cantillon Blabaer, Fruit Lambic, 5% abv

This beer has a perfect 100 score on Beeradvocate and is one of the most sought after beers in the world. Raters gonna rate.

A: This has a murky deep ruby frothiness with a magenta head and deep plum hues. The lacing is minimal and the entire beer crackles with this acidic liveliness and it reminds me of that pit of acid that the Joker got pushed into in Batman, and it reminds me that I will probably never get to try this again. Just a bunch of Blabaerless nights listening to Jason Mraz and watching ABC Family.

With Cantillon you always think they pulled an adjunct jackmove, but no shooops here. All bugs, berries, and bitches.

S: The smell is largely acidic, acetyl, wet grass, morning rain, damp laundry, and really ripe boysenberries. I dont get the archetypical blueberry smell here but, not a single fuck could be located for comment.

T: The taste is fantastically tart and complex. At the outset there is a dry acrimonious funk that sets a nice straw and musky oeuvre that transitions into a boysenberry, tart blackberry, and really hard strawberry, the kind that pucker your face like a gushers commercial. I enjoy the smell more than the taste and it seems almost like Lou Pepe Geuze wearing a thin disguise, but the berries are a chill ass addition to what is already an incredible sour.

I tend to be overly critical with my beer reviews, but with a beer this flawless, reviews get all hard and shit.

M: This scorches and dries in that way that only Cantillon can. It would be tough to take down more than 12oz of this, but the depth of the taste is fulfilling and I enjoy how the fruits opened up as the beer warmed, LIKE YOUR MOM DOES WHEN SHE IS A LAMBIC. Sick burn.

D: How drinkable is this beer considering that it is impossible to land? Interesting question, you hateful interlocutor. But in all seriousness, I really liked this beer but I probably wont seek it out again. People want your entire cellar and a cup full of unmarked jizz for a bottle of this and my unmarked jizz simply is not for barter. I enjoy St. Lamvinus and Fou Foune more and they are (relatively?) easier to land. Again, this is all within the constraints of judging it as the best sour beer in the entire world, so take it with a GRAIN OF BLUEBERRY.

When you're expecting the best treat in the world, you're always setting yourself up for disappointment. Why you feelings.

Narrative: The bed and breakfast was a quaint cottage in rural Montana, which is essentially, redundant. The fields of lavender were verdant and moist with the tears of angels. It was the perfect place for Charles Montague to settle down and work on that UPN pilot he had been harshly instructed to complete. The premise of a family of produce canners that hit it big in the blueberry jam business seemed a bit thin, but Charles needed to air it out and hit the fields, see the shit firsthand. “Chalres, rook ova hai, broobaree brushes!” Ed Lu was the caretaker of the Bed and Breakfast and he spoke with a borderline offensive dialect that was entirely fabricated to make white people feel at home. “Yes Ed, thank you, stop, stop trying to put a blueberry in my mouth.” The pushed his hands into the bushes and communed with the tart fruit. He took a deep breath and simply couldn’t think of anything but Moesha re-runs. “DAMNIT CHARLES THIS IS THE BIGGEST THING YOU’VE EVER TACKLED, focus, or they will know if you phoned it in.” Suddenly Ed slid a yellow memo pad across the wet grass to Charles. “MY GOD, ED-” Ed Lu nodded with his offensive high ponytail and winked emphasizing “BROOBREEREES.” Charles knew that it was unorthodox to make an entire 13 episode arch based upon a reimagining of Blueberries for Sal but, THE NETWORK COULD FUCK ITSELF, this was his personal victory and it was his magnum opus.

0

Odell Myrcenary Double IPA, Some say hops aren’t for wintertime, well they can hop their asses on out of here.

|

This was one of those famed Double IPAs from Colorado that I always wanted to try but never wanted to set out to trade just for this beer. I waited and waited and it never appeared as an extra, UNTIL NOW. The stars aligned and a generous trader hooked me up with this old chestnut. THE RESULTS MAY HOP YOU.

I am not sure what this mycenary would accomplish aside from getting other soldiers really drunk. COVERT HOPS SHIT.

Odell Myrcenary Double IPA, 9.3% abv

A: The appearance is a bit strange for a double ipa and gives nice deep honey dark yellow glow. The brass and bronze let me know that this a regal affair and that tails are called for accordingly. The wispy head fogs up my monocle, but I ain’t even mad tho.

Good day Rocky Mountain residents, I do believe I may have shat myself near Breckingridge, have ye any hops?

S: The nose is amazing, sweet honey, lemongrass, biscuit malt, corn bread, and light pineapple. You get a slightly cinnamon finish which is relevant to my interests. I am adding this beer to my Friendster account.

T: The taste doesn’t blow me away like the nose but it is still very good. It is almost approaching that old American Barleywine standby in the respect that is had a huge malty base with a gentle sweetness like baked goods, but then hammers home some pine like a Bolivian housekeeper. THIS BEER DOESN’T DO WINDOWS.

The finish to this beer makes it seem like there was something missing, something amazing that could have been.

M: It is light enough to keep things interesting and doesn’t slow down for the credits, this short film just rocks your tastebud genitals all night long. The drying and herbal finish gives it a distinct lip smacking quality that is like Pina Colada chapstick that the officers will find on your person and that’s when the cuffs will feel too tight.

D: This is like a three strike combo that sets you up perfectly and then Urkels its so hard and messed up the finisher. You get the sweetness, nice hop bite and then, FUCKING GRASS TIME. Not like intercourse with grass, like tastes like gr- you know what, nevermind. I want this to be more drinkable but every swallow finishes with that bitterness, if you think I am going to pander with an oral sex joke here, you are only partly correct. The abv is masked quite well and I could see this beer making it outside, plays well with others, could get the uninformed pretty lit. It’s like the Bud light Platinum for the craft community I guess. WHICH ISN’T THAT BAD AT ALL.

This reminds me of other enjoyable things, but is good in its own right.

Narrative: Margaret and Ross Ignacio were concerned about their Nana’s new caretaker. Every time that they would visit her there would be a fragrant new citrus tree or hibiscus blossom in the front yard, it was beautiful, yet something was irksome. Nana was using technology and there were sure signs that Manuel was the one goading these pleasures. “Follow me on the twatter, I can retwat you” she would say obliviously. One day Manuel spied inspectingly through the stained glass window. “Nana, you never wanted to go on Adultfriendfinder.com before, what, how did you even hear about this?” Nana sipped her chamomile tea reflectively and began a tediously long story about war bonds. “Ok you know what, I dont want Manuel showing you the computer anymore” Nana sighed “oh well you should get on Myface, er put your space in my space.” Nana worked the computerbox assiduously and Manuel watched knowingly, the silent Hispanic mercenary that got old Nana into twisted internet porn.

0

Bell’s Hopslam, Someone Went and Slammed All My Hops and Dreams.

|

I have had this beer twice. Once I raped myself (beersturbation) bought one for $20 off ebay and it was 6 months old. That was hardly a fair tick, so I decided to trade for a new one, 2 weeks old and compare. The result is an ultra legit review.

I prefer my hops in a submission hold, but the hopslam is an excellent move as well.

Bells’ Hopslam DIPA, 10% abv

A: Mildly opaque golden hues, brighter and more apricot than most DIPAs and it doesn’t look exceptionally malty. Nice thick white cumulus head with huge thick lacing. It has a great look to it and you just want to bump some Ronettes and ask this beer why it wont be your little hop baby.

Everyone always talks about how the preivous year of Hopslam was better. It's a pretty solid beer but why they hatin?

S: Huge sweet hoppy character that comes off extremely saccharine and herbal. The hop cloud is like an olfactory bomb you can smell 18” away. It is vegetal in the end and a bit too herbal for my citrusy nose, but to each his own I guess.

T: There is an initial huge sweetness that isn’t exactly citrus, it tastes more funnel cake/cinnabon, then the herbal and lime flavors initiate into a great bouquet. The finish is a huge spinach and pine blast that just pangs of salad and fresh greens. It isn’t what I am seeking in a DIPA, but it is by no means offputting, again just different. I am not being a homer on this, my favorite IPAs are made in Vermont, it just isn’t for me.

Well well well, another ultra hopped beer you say? I'm listening...

M: For a beer this big it is incredibly drinkable. The mouthfeel isn’t overly coating or exceptionally filling, but the flavors are relentless. I want to drain my glass with increasing celerity ::pushes glasses up nose:: The coating is a sweet little mixed greens salad ninja. Staying on the greenest greens call this beer a vegetarian. All you smell is strange clouds.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and I would say that the ABV places it in leagues with several different classes of beers. This will warm you in the winter or cool you off with awesome refreshing sweet notes in the summer. Just fantastic all around; even with a bit of age it is still an impressor. It is much better fresh but again the lack of juicy childlike citrus puts it down a notch in my esteem but I can see why people who dont have access to fresh Pliny all the time would be all jazzed up about this.

Bells beer feels more inherently partiotic or american to me, something about the craftsmanship or the fact that it gets you excessively wasted. God bless the midwest.

Narrative: Sure, it wasn’t the WWE, but the triple title, welter weight tristate professional wrestling competition was nothing to sneeze at. The competitions behind the Tastee Freeze lacked the ambiance of a pure demonstrative environment for the masses, but the hum of the generator provided a mild lull for the public lacking dental insurance. A dim spotlight, spotlight loosely being referred to as a Belkin floodlight, shined furiously on the center of the canvas ring. A 9 year old girl swayed gently on the ropes awaiting the entrances. The smell of cut grass and grapefruit began to fill the baleful air, the mist of sticky herbal sweetness lingering within each patrons’ nose: Hopundertakehopper had arrived. He burst through the back bus room door and performed his classic flying maneuver, whose name needs no recitation at this juncture.

1

Block 15 Imagine, I can’t IMAGINE a better stou-

|

Toot toot, here comes the hype train. This beer was matured 9 & 21 months in bourbon barrels, there were 40 cases produced, released at the pub every other year, most recently November 2011. You can TASTE THE RARE. Tastes like Fedex bills.

This beer originally came in a fancy box, wrapped in fancy paper, in a..blank bottle? It's like a girl who wears Marciano but has no work done. Mislabeled.

Block 15 Imagine, Russian Imperial Stout, 15% abv

A: This doesn’t have a heavy oppressive look to it, a nice shiny wateriness similar to czar jack and where that 15% abv is hiding, I have no clue. There’s mild bubbles with a bit of 1/2″ lacing. The appearance is pretty tame and could be mistaken for a single stout, if you want to write on your friend’s face later. This beer has purpose. UNLESS IT IS JUST MY IMAGINATION.

At first, no one in Oregon would trade me this beer and I was all like-

S: This smells like the inside of a See’s candy factory, or what I imagine the inside of an Econoline van if I were 9 and blindfolded. There’s a huge fudge, brownie batter, just Charleston Chew, sticky gooey taffy, and a mild hint of bourbon. I IMAGINED that there would be a huge heat on this but, IT WAS JUST MY IMAGINATION.

T: There is a great chocolate initial taste that presents a sticky bake sale presence and you know it was the ultra hot soccer mom with no responsibilities that made it. The skillset is distinctively domestic. There’s a nutty almond middle to this and a light warming bourbon sensation at the end. I THOUGHT IT WOULD TASTE LIKE BOURBON BARREL PLEAD THE 5th BUT-, ok you get the bit? Alright. Moving on. IMAGINE PUNS.

Sometimes you get a bourbon barrel stout that is all sassy and silly, this is not the case, turn the above picture into an angry Samoan man who runs the yard with a substantial shank.

M: The mouthfeel is just light enough and doesn’t boss my palate around. It sticks just a bit, washes away with a bit more tenacity than Czar Jack and Stone IRS, but it doesn’t set up a homestead like Abyss or Black Tuesday, it handles it business like Juvenile and gets the fuck out of the game. You get your chocolate and bourbon, like that foul temptress barista, and then you’re on to drive a City Bus for a living, man shit.

D: This is scary drinkable and looks down its nose at Dark Lord and wags a knowing finger at my other favorite heavy hitter, Martes Negro. But then again, how drinkable is a beer that they made like 550 bottles of? OH I AM SORRY CAPTAIN MONEYBAGS. Enjoy your Block 15 hoard.

You think 15% is just a number, and then the colony drop happens after you kill 12 oz.

Narrative: Walter Percoletti crafted his homestead lovingly and dug his irrigation trenches deep. Some onlookers told him that the Salinas Valley was no place for cocoa beans and a whiskey distillery. “Kate! Turn that Usher CD down and get over here to the primary ditch!” The bitter beans stained the soil and soul a deep chocolate brown. The hardpan arose only 3 feet down and below that, God knows it could have been meteorite, the entire Salinas valley held a bed of carbon and sea sediment. The grain for the whiskey in the deep harsh central California summers were not faring any better. “Papa! Come quick! One of them stills done boiled over, Cotton Eye boiled a deep chocolate solution in the sour mash and done ruined the entire whiskey batch. The entire plume smelled of fudge and child rapists, drawing all of the children and local towns people to gaze at the billowing whiskey clouds. Cannery Row never felt the same with a malaise of deep bourbon and espresso raining down upon their GEORGE LENNY BLACK PEARL DUSTBOWL META TAG OVERLOAD.

0

Cigar City Hunahpu’s Imperial Stout, The Sweetest Chocolate Comes from Florida

|

Well with the Huna release approaching fast, I thought it would be good to look back on the O.G. 2011 classic. There’s a ton of barrel variants of this but many people opine that this is still the most legit. WE SHALL SEE.

Dark and sweet like a 2 Live Crew video. Lots of hea-

Cigar City Hunahpus, Imperial Stout, 11.5% abv

A: This is the darkest beer that I have ever seen, dethroning the noble Abyss and Black Tuesday’s of the world. It is jet black like spent motor oil and you can see its weight when it hits the glass and coats like chocolate Robitussin. The carbonation is amazing and produces microscopic tan bubbles that are a deep mahogany color. Mama put on the finest wares for the funeral, because this beer slays other stouts WITHOUT A BARREL.

This beer keeps it gangster. But in an amiable way.

S: This is an incredibly multifaceted stout on the nose profile and well worth the hype. It has a cinnamon finish with huge coffee dryness that is mellowed out by great cocoa nibs. There’s a vanilla and toffee that start getting their grope, olfactory overload finish.

T: The front of the beer is a nice sweetness like melted chocolate, the coffee sets up the entire middle of this beer with a boozy dryness. The finish has a cinnamon and nutmeg sort of taste to it. I didn’t think that the booziness was disturbing and can’t really imagine this beer improving over time, but we shall see. Wait no we wont because I will end up drinking every bottle that I get immediately. I love this beer.

This beer is the opposite of what this guy is doing. He is failing in inverse proportion to the win of this beer.

M: This has such incredible coating that hits the palate and just expands with coffee oiliness. I could imagine my teeth having a nice darkness to them not unlike a girl from Arizona State. It lingers with a nice complexity along the gumline that is like ringing a sticky chocolate bell that sets up shop and has no intention of leaving, not unlike a girl from Arizona State.

D: This is huge, complex, and angry; that being said, I would readily request a second bomber right away. It is not exactly refreshing, but it feels like a decadent treat. It almost feels too indulgent with all of the coffee, bourbon, and chocolate going on. If someone walked in on me drinking this to myself I would feel content but a little abashed at going on an Agustus Gloump rampage.

I need more of this stout, always. Because fuck you.

Narrative: “Your excellence, the cocoa provisions are running alarmingly low.” The counsel elder prostrated pleadingly. “At this rate, the tribe will have no sweet treats for the forthcoming Pukami Blessing festival.” Lord Hunahpu lowered his head shamefully, his mouth smeared with chocolate nibs. “THEN THE PUKAMI BLESSING MUST WAIT.” He pushed his thick fingers into the clay pot and pushed another mouthful of the coffee and cocoa bean blend into his gullet. “Myem, and if, the villagers protest, myem, tell them there was a, gulp, crop failure.” His decadence was too much for the rations of the small tribe. Suddenly a black murky puddle seeped out of the tiles within the floor of the palace. “PUKAMI COMETH!” the counsel elder shouted with reticence. The deep oily murkiness fired a milk chocolate beam at Lord Hunahpu for his gluttony and cast him in a solid chocolate shell. The counsel elder ran and was instructed by Pukami not to look back. He turned his head and saw Lord Hunahpu frozen in delicious stasis. He was turned into a pillar of salted chocolate. “PUKAMI CARES NOT FOR YOUR LOT!” echoes through the palace and he melted back into the floor.

0

Alpine Brewing Company, Pure Hoppiness, For When Hoppy Birthday isn’t enough, but Exponential Hoppiness is Too Much

|

More plugs for Alpine brewing this week and another amazing DIPA that is frustratingly hard to find these days. Used to be you could walk into a Whole Foods, give Fabio a high five and pick up a couple bottles of this. Now people on the east coast have a thirst for unbalanced hops and OUR HOP ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES.

Double that IPA, get that PUR h0p1n3$$ shyt g0i1n

Alpine Brewing, Pure Hoppiness, 8% abv, double IPA

A: Nice deep gold tones, great cabonation, spider webbing from the lacing with no middle carbonation. Looks like discontent apple juice. Apples that be all pissed and frothy.

The purity of the hops will reincarnate your soul.

S: Huge bouquet from a mile away, great citrus but pine and forest predominates. I love that Alpine is almost always, well Alpine. The smell is a fantastic balance between the juiciness of most DIPAs and the herbal notes from malty Imperial IPAs. IF YOU’RE WONDERING WHEN TO START WANTING IT, NOW IS A GOOD TIME.

T: Awesome hybrid of initial notes, there’s a tinge of herbal mixed with citrus. The citrus ends up riding out the party and the drying forest finish is present in the swallow. All around a great melange of the two styles. It feels like if Pliny and Maharaja had a love child. This would be the result and unsurprisingly, it is delicious. But that would never happen, most historical pundits believe Pliny the Elders homose- alas I digress.

Get all carried away with that hop blast and you forget about the 8% abv and you be all lookin like dis.

M: The mouthfeel is light with creamy coating. Great carbonation boosts the hops into the nostrils creating a create hop profile. Great maltiness that is not overdone. It’s a hot tub of hop oils all up in my bubbling mouthhole and THE BOTTOMS ARE COMING OFF.

D: This beer is really high on this note. The expansive character spread hop stickiness like a virus and your mouth is the better for it. The abv is hidden well and you could drink this in plenty of circumstances from grooming your dog, spot welding, watching past episodes of Burn Notice. The choices are endless.

You know it is the middle child, but you respect it nonetheless, interesting and good at science or whatever middle children are good at, not the baby, not the one who gets pregnant first. I am ok with that.

Narrative: The year was 2145, but that seems like just yesterday, well since they harnessed the photon retractor, everything seems like the yesterday of tomorrow. Let me explain. Corporal William Herboreal had been working as the ships botanist on an experimental mission to Titan, one of the outer moons of, well that’s not important. Upon discovering a new strain of humulus lupus, an advanced strain of hops, the oil was potent enough to power the ship, too powerful even. We cascade through time and sheered the space barrier in a way that even Immanuel Kant couldn’t’ have predicted. THE HOPS WERE TOO INTEGRATED. He kept feeding hops to the engine, its juniper rancor filling the cabin. But now we have crossed the line, fallen through time, living in the land of the hops. Yes we are living in the land of the hops.

0

Alpine Nelson, India Pale Ale, Your neck, your back, your hop cones and your

|

Ah Alpine Brewing Company, the hop masters whose bottles are constantly in demand. I get trade requests for these elusive assholes all the time and I only live like 150 miles from where it is brewed.

Something delicious coming out of East San Diego that isn't crystal cut meth.

Alpine Nelson, IPA, 7% abv

A: Bright orange hues with mild cloudiness, Great foamy head that escapes pretty quickly leaving minimal lacing. This beer looks all radiant like radioactive orange juice.

Hoppy denial, not should occur.

S: There is a vibrant bouquet of oranges, grapefruits, apricots, and lemon zest. Very citrusy and smells like liquid sunshine all up in my dome piece.

This beer will turn your head, and keep your attention. But not in a weird way.

T: Sadly, it doesn’t retain all of the bright juicy notes that it promised. I don’t feel misled, just misinformed. There’s a bit of tartness and cirtusy dryness but overall it comes off like a slightly more acidic version of Alpine Ale. It is still good, but not as drinkable as Hoppy Birthday, and not quite as powerful as Pure Hoppiness, still a beautiful middle child with flaxen locks.

M: This has a great coating and breadiness to it that is very refreshing. The light citrus notes makes me almost want to go outside for a change, look at the sparrows and, no, there’s nothing for me out there. I will resign myself to staying inside and living vicariously through my IPAs. The mouthfeel is pretty legit though, nice biscuity coating with that lemon zest you just cant beat.

Smelled the hops and my face be all like-

D: This beer again shows Alpine’s poise and power in the drink ability field. You really cannot deny their ability to present beers that you can drink any place any time. In the lobby of a Planned Parenthood? Pop open some Nelson. Roll with it.

Narrative: Brayden pressed his face to the glass of his generic track home. He could see Final Fantasy XVII, just sitting there, imploring his input. His mind dizzied at the thought of his characters unleveled, cast in shoddy garb to remain in obscurity. Instead his mother put him outside in this hateful sun. The trees with their shade imparting goodness, natural pillars of breeze facilitation. “I HATE PLAYING OUTSIDEEEE!!!” he cried as he struck an aluminum baseball bat against the metal street sign. The elementary physics lesson was enough to put a pallor on the entire afternoon. Once the vibrating in Jayden’s hands stopped, he noticed something, a neighbor’s yard. But not just any yard, to be sure. His neighbor had a grapefruit tree in full yield with NO ONE TO ATTEND TO IT. “No. way.” he ruminated casuistically to himself. Of course, an 11 year-old boy has no interest in fresh citrus. He does however love destroying things, particularly fresh produce. The line of fruits across the thoroughfare was complete and impenetrable and the oncoming rush of a Nissan Maxima ensured results. Jayden wiped the acidic juice from his brow and nodded approvingly. +21 char, +3 Vitaility.

1

GEMS FROM THE 2012 DDB VAULT: Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock , The Doppel Block is Hot, wha wha, Block is hot, wha wha

|

I found this in “unfinished drafts” from 2012.  You can drink in this classic review from over six years ago, aint shit changed but my limp:

Oh wow. A top 100 beer that pretty much everyone and their step-grandmother has had. Nothing interesting to say about this old german hag right? FUCKING WRONG.

I say things all day long and use all the words until you cant see nothing left for the meaning has.

Celebrator, Ayinger, Doppelbock

A: It looks like a Dr. Pepper 10, not in the graces that it is somehow not for women, but in the manner in which it pours. German beers always have this hard water discountenance that exhibits a graceful clinging and their lacing is unparalelled. Do I need to remind you of the Andescher Dunkel review? No, let’s not go there. But regardless it has a nice pretty watery nature that just lends itself to expansive frothy bubbles that cling and lace the glass demonstratively.

img_1949

S: You get a bit of cinnamon, cardamon, brown sugar, and tree bark. Also, in a weird way it smells like pennies when the bubbles be all popping. It is not a bad thing, it just reminds me of the coinstar machine, but in a sexy way. It has a pretty legitimate stone quality to the water that lets you know that what it lacks in malty base, it will make up for in lip smacking water recipe. AND IT FUCKING DOES.

T: Ok so at the outset you are like, alright, cola, nice almond, ok what’s that? Oh a belgian sweetness- WAIT HOLY FUCK and a deep turbinado sugar shows up all Belgian and decadent, not giving a single fuck. He’s a nice enough guy, but he spends so much time lounging around your house and palate.

M: This is clean and reminds of a cross between a dunkel and barleywine, if anyone has ever done that? Who knows anything is possible.

O: This is a very solid beer and reminiscent of older times, when things were simpler, beers were cleaner and not as chaotic as the beer scene now. I just wish new breweries would embrace and revitalize this style instead of nonstop IPAs pounding my hoppy perineum.

1477074883716

Narrative:

[it appears the narrative was incomplete for this one and that’s why it was never posted, oh well.]

0

Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Just Straight Up Czar Jacking It

|

This beer is released once a year and only 80 growlers are filled. OH SHIT BRAGGING SESSION COMMENCES. Just kidding, this is another top 100 beer that took me a long time to land and it was well worth it.

People be all like “What you finna do with all that stout, all that stout up in that growl(er)”

DO WHAT I ALWAYS DO, TAKE THIS SHIT TO THE DANGER ZONE.

Nobody reads shit on Saturdays anyway.

If Czar Jack was stuck on a roof, would you help Czar Jack off?

Minnesota Town Hall, Czar Jack, Russian Imperial Stout, 9.3% abv

A: The carbonation just cascades in tiny clusters clinging to the center and edges of the glass like that Ewok village when it is night time, little constellations of potential drunk and disorderly charges, a mocha head of “these cuffs are too tight.”

S: Just wow, the smell is like fresh baked fudge, a light boozy aroma like an aunt who has a secret to tell, nice nutty almond dryness and of course a burnt coffee waft closes the deal. Your pants are off and the hotel bill will reflect the shame of your actions, namely drinking an entire growler.

You crack a 64oz growler of this and shit just goes bananas. B A N A N A N A N A N A N A S. That's how you spell bananas.

T: The coffee taste with mild acidity is the first thing that rolls up with an insouciant swagger oh and he brought two hoes with him, bourbon and dutch chocolate. The taste applies a single Sherman Williams coat and then just goes on its merry way, smashing in tastebuds and giving palate HJs on the way down.

M: The mouthfeel is amongst the lightest that I have ever encountered in the world class stout category. It is almost like an imperial porter in how clean and effortlessly this beer works your tongue over. It coats nicely but doesn’t overstay its welcome. This beer is down for a chocolate one night stand and then peaces out, but makes the bed first. I am ok with that.

There was so much hype surrounding this beer I was a skeptical hippo but, well here we are and I am still riding this brewery's jock so hard.

D: This is incredibly drinkable and dangerous for a beer at this ABV level. It doesn’t get all caught up with emotional coffee baggage, or talk about its daddy chocolate issues. This shit is just down to bang your palate and just be a super chill ryde or die stout. I want more of it, but I heard about their new procedure for landing Czar jack and it sounds fucking hellish lotteries, local rewards, club cards and shit. So this may be the final growler that I enjoy of this elusive potation. BUT THEN AGAIN MAYBE SHE WEEEIIILLLLL.

At first I was excited for 2 liters of this beer, then I was like-

Narrative: Chancellor Billingsley was a charitable man, but in a strange, offputting manner. He has a zest for philanthropy, but in what amounted to a purely hateful manner. “Regis, please assemble the equipage of the 14 stallion carriage, I would like to donate sums to the mealymouthed masses.” He strode sternly to the awaiting carriage and sat sumptuously upon the Gala Coupe` with a large sack of heavy Spanish doubloons. “Now bring the trot to an idle speed-” he said as he cocked his arm back towards the throngs of commoners descending upon his carriage. “AND HERE IS YOUR MONTH’S RENT!” he called as a cast a weighty solid gold coin cascading directly to the temple of an alms seeker with her threadbare hands outstretched. “You see Regis, without the loss of consciousness, they would never embrace the blessing I am bestowing upon them, it takes a complete debilitating blow to show them the honor and glory of my fugue.” One child was seen both simultaneously crying and cheering with a bruised imprint of Queen Isabella knocked deeply into his epidermis.