0

3 Floyd’s Arctic Panzer Wolf, Imperial IPA, 9% abv

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Arctic Panzer, OH OLD LABEL STATUS.

Arctic Panzer Wolf, Three Floyds, imperial IPA 9% abv

A: Very transparent thin yellow almost lager color, good carbonation and lots of sticky lacing. Middle carbonation throughout. There’s no cool way to say this, but, it is a very…pretty…beer…like it looks hella tight with the golden hue and sick bubbles, yeah.

S: holy citrus bomb, you get a huge bouquet of pineapple, apricot, and a bit of a melon smell from the hops. Remiscient of a brighter pliny with more citrus and no herbal aspects

T: Strangely the huge citrus notes arent as present on the palate but that doesn’t mean that this is a flawed beer, just got the old hopes up a bit too high with the amazing smell. It has a fast clean finish with no linger hop dryness, just a sweet juicy hop profile that is incredibly smoothe. If this is an imperial IPA, you would never know it. No alcoholic heat and it drinks like a single IPA.

M: Great frothiness, nice middle ground of coating and bubbly crispness. It has this “just out of the shower IPA” sort of feel to it that is hard to find in beers this big. It is a good thing that this isn’t readily available on the west coast because I could see beach disasters with a beer this refreshing maintaining its stealthy abv.

D: This is gonna get a solid 5/5 on this aspect. The drinakbility is scary, a bomber of this evaporates incredibly quickly. I would be interested to try this on tap to see if it is consistently this drinkable. Notwithstanding, one bomber will not be enough, 2 may be too few as well. Go to Indiana and stock up I guess because you will burn through quantities of this beer incredibly quickly.

Narrative: The hop strain was too powerful and OPEC knew it. Their days of limitless control were over once the hop oil shieks took control. “And the rancid odor SHALL FILL THE STREETS OF THE PACIFIC NORTH WEST!” the new dictators boomed emphatically from their Oregon and Canadian mounts. After the hop profiles were discovered, nothing else was left aside from destitute desert life. At least, no one had to live in Indiana any more. The masses sigh a huge breath of relief and brows were wiped universally. “AND TODAY, THIS CAR MAY RUN ON HOP OIL, BUT NOT A SINGLE DROP OF BLOOD WAS SPILLED LIVING IN THE TURBULENT MIDWEST.” The crowd cheered triumphantly, knowing what a huge obstacle they had overcome.

1

Westvleteren 12, Quad, The Best Beer Ev, hey guys look out a snip-

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The #1 Beer in the World, Ever. Apparently.

The #1 Beer in the World. Now FDA Approved for Children, if they're super chill.

Oh wait, a little midweek bonus? The best beer
in the world? I guess I will close cuteoverload.com to check this out.

Westvleteren 12, Quad, 10.2% abv

A: Deep dark mahogany, one of the darkest quads that I have ever seen with incredibly tiny bubbles and very minimal lacing. When held to the light it has a type of a deep ruby glow to it. Like the blushing of that polynesian girl you used to flatter with such coquetry. Her deep wheezing indicating laughter for their kind.

S: Caramel, plums, candied walnuts, and raisins are on the nose of this beer with a bit of a waft of booziness. The fruits have a bit of dry waft to them, like a dark chardonnay. It smells like a KB Home after a serious bender/Nurse Jackie marathon with some 30 somethings. Merlot and dates are def present up in the mix.

T: The taste imparts itself quickly and doesn’t linger for long, it is similar to the nose and has a swift fig, date, raisin taste to it that washes with a mild hop swallow to it. There is almost zero alcohol presence to this beer and the sweet brown sugar lingering notes are fantastic. It is amazing, it makes me feel like I had a peg leg, but I was deft and capable with it, collecting coins in my Expos hat.

M: This has an incredibly light and almost strikingly simple mouthfeel to it. It didn’t have a big breadiness or huge malty backbone but, given all the flavor present, it is not lacking as a result. It’s like one of those really pleasant old friends you see in the grocery store, enjoy the interaction for a bit, and then go on your way. Except you probably wont see them again for a long time. it is deceptively simple, and you end up leaving the test knowing that “testicles” was not the correct answer on the multiple question test. Just relax, the answer is always testicles.

D: This is the most drinkable quad I had ever tasted and it is almost a travesty to only have a single 33cl bottle because you finish it and are prepared for another. This beer is a paradox because it is very complex on the flavor profile but swift and simple at the same time. Like those old Craiglists grifters who impart a deep fruit taste but empty my bank account.

Narrative: The Latvian police fired a single 22mm shot from a pathetic ruger at the fleeing Econoline van. “Wesley! They’re gonna open fire on us! What are we supposed to do now!” Sverdyakov shouted while tensely staring in his rear view mirror. Wesley Westvleteren the 12th took a drag from his hand rolled Belgian cigarillo and exhaled coolly, making the outline of a Portugese Man-o-war effortlessly. “I shall tell you what shall be done” he noted while spying the pricelessly rare Pez cargo “we shall make a swift right on the upcoming Ave 12×4 on the gps, then make a hard right for the abandoned canal, on Tuesdays the water gates are left bereft of any moisture for cleaning. “ The slack jawed Russian thugs nodded astonished and proceeded to follow his instructions to the letter. A Latvian police office smashed into a water pump and the tiny Peugeot exploded in a cloud of cheap eastern European diesel fuel. “A concordant of worms indeed” he quipped as he pulled a raisin fig pez candy from one of the clear sacks and popped it into his mouth, “the rarest deepest fruits, certainly worth the struggle.” The van made a sharp turn across the border and two police cars smashed into one another in a comically archetypical fashion. Westy the 12th was a man of many things, but “fucking around” was not on his resume.

3

Maple Bacon Coffee Porter, Funky Buddha, Florida Shows Its True Joie De Vivre

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The Funkiest Buddha Maple Bacon Coffee Porter

Three Adjectives. One Noun. And a Whole lot of Truckstop Lovin.

I got some complaints that I
was reviewing too many Porters (three.)
Therefore, HERE YOU GO MATT GIBBS, ANOTHER TOP 100 PORTER!

Funky Buddha, Maple Bacon Coffee Porter, 6.3% “Brown Carbonated Liquid”

A: This beer has medium carbonation with tiny bubbles the file upwards like disobedient 3rd graders, to and fro all sticky. It has a deep burnt mahogany shine and gives a lot of reflection off. It feels trashy, yet refined, like a Monte Carlo with candy paint and a dope Hawaiian Punch mural on it. You know it took a lot of Fudruckers checks to make it happen.

S: You cannot fault this beer for false advertising, the aromas are complex and intense, I have to pull it apart like strata. The first smell is a deep maple syrup sweetness like getting a sweet smooch from your aunt from Vermont, who happens to smoke black and milds. The smoke comes through but it’s more of a caramel smoke, not like bacon, but it is there and it smells inviting and fattening. The coffee notes are there, but it seems more like a weak stout coffee than that great acidic or sweet coffee I was hoping for. But I was also hoping for a 4th season of Arrested Development, one can dream.

T: The coffee hits front and center in both the sweet and bitter zones and the smoke follows haphazardly, buttoning his shirt running out the door. There is a huge interplay of the two flavors and ultimately I don’t know who to root for until, OH SHIT, maple comes up from behind with a trashcan and cleans up the ring with both of the two Jabronis. Bacon is nowhere to be found in this melee but I suppose that’s for the best, this is hectic enough. Trailer park deliciousness.

M: The mouthfeel is slick and thin and it’s impressive how much flavor is packed into such a simple base beer. The abv is almost non-existent and the drying from the coffee is offset but the maple sweetness. All in all, this beer is crazy and memorable, like a trip to the coffee plantation…and then finding out that it is also is a “bacon factory.”

D: This beer is crisp and light but carries an insane complexity. This isn’t meant for sessions and it has nothing to do with the ABV or the disapproving looks from your wife. It is just too complicated, no one watches a marathon of David Lynch movies, it just doesn’t work like that. You enjoy your decadent maple bacon madness in moderation, which I guess isn’t hard since this “brewery” makes these bottles in 50 bottle batches so, good luck getting hooked on this sticky ham juice.

Narrative: “Hey Edith, if you don’t mind, Claire has to bail her piece of shit husband out of jail so, you’re working a double.” It was funny how a question can turn into an insult and then into a statement in a single breath. “Come on Jesse!“ Edith clicked her Capri Slim on the rim of the ashtry and let the 2” ashes fall insouciantly. “Yeah, sure I guess, not like I have anything beyond this diner to look forward to.” She looked around the room of the makeshift break room and sighed, another 16 hours of slinging eggs, coffee and bacon to unappreciative truckers. Edith tied her apron on and swished the pork and tobacco taste around in her mouth while she prepared her notepa- “what in the?” Edith glanced over near the OSHA poster and saw, what appeared to be a manilla folder of rare vintage comic books. “Well, hey now, that’s what I call a tip!” One of them even had a certificate of authenticity. “OH MY GOD! THIS CANT BE REAL!” Edith scream and jumped up and down, her thick diabetic frame rattling her white coffee mug on the table. “Action Comics #1, the first appearance of Superman! That comic is valued at $250,000 in mint cond-” “SURPRISE!” yelled the TV crew and the dapper host upon entering abruptly. “Wait what?” “You’re on UPN’s HOTTEST NEW SHOW! ‘LET DOWNS FOR THE WORKING CLASS!’” Edith’s head was spinning, was this a real show? “Yeah, we let people who have basically nothing feeling amazing for a few fleeting seconds, AND THEN BRING ON THE LET DOWNS!” Edith’s hands dropped to her sides in disbelief. Jesse noted, “hey but seriously, get out there, you are still working a double, and, uh, leave the fake comic books for the other guys to read huh?”

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Stone Kona Coffee Macadamia Coconut Porter venti triple whip half calf backside fakie.

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And the winner of the adjective stacking contest goes to...Stone Kona Coffee Macadamia Coconut Porter

Stone Kona Coffee Macadamia Coconut Porter, 8.5% Abv

A: It looks like a fantastic deep porter with a light slickness to it and a radiant shine like the coat of a well groomed pug. The head is huge, also not unlike a pug, and the foam and sticky lacing leaves the glass looking like a marshmellow snuff film, it is everywhere.

S: The coffee is there in a huge way, not flat, old coffee notes, I mean like fresh pot that was iced right in front of you. There is a vanilla and coconut note to it that nestles in the back just nodding its head in 2/4 time all gangster. There is a strange booziness to it the comes across almost like a sweet heat, like fresh macaroons, BUT BAD ASS MACAROONS, like macaroons that smoke black and milds and whittle into desks during detention.

T: The taste is very unlike the nose and imparts an initial sweet maltiness that has a toffee vanilla slickness that subsides into an acidic coffee tartness. The lingering taste is a greasy nutiness that I can only assume is the macadamia nut, but it almost comes across as diacetyl, I don’t want to throw the D word around like Limited Too underwear though, so I will be more judicious.

M: The mouthfeel is slick but has that macaroon sweet waft at the end that lingers. The ABV is more present than I was expecting, all things considered, but it isn’t annoying, it just makes it come off more like a baked good than a deep coffee pensive rod of judgment. You know, the black, rod of…never mind.

D: I am not exactly putting this away like porn when I hear the garage door. It remains there, angry, complex, deep, in short completely divorced from reality like the hipster population of Los Feliz. But this beer probably has some adjunct that a stage 9 vegan can’t have anyway. I bet the coffee isn’t even east facing, low precipitation, fair trade, union, waxing moon beans. It is delicious and I enjoy sipping on it, but it doesn’t completely blow me away. I remain unblown throughout the proceedings, away or otherwise.

Narrative: The waters of the Polynesian straits were nothing to be trifled with. Ku’tuantala was a brave seafaring man, solitary in nature. The other villagers questioned his diet, they derided his mesomorphic appearance, and entirely chastised his plans for colonizing a new island. Sure, populating an island empire alone had reproductive difficulties on paper, but he was willing to overcome these goals. His shallow vessel was packed to the gills with fresh unroasted coffee beans for late night walks, macadamia nuts, for currency of course, and vanilla beans, for long term investments. It remained unclear if his local currency would carry over in his new solitary expediti- “FOR GODS SAKE WALTER WILL YOU GET BACK IN THE BOAT!” The loudspeaker of the Eliminator jet boat boomed at the mid-40’s Ku’Tuantala. “Walter no return to couples retreat, no more talk about feelings!” the brave warrior roared back, sucking on a vanilla bean. “Act your age Walter, this is insane, you have to return the resort’s kayak’s otherwise we lose our deposit, OH SO NOW THIS IS MY FAULT? WALTER!” Yes the new island would be a great land replete with confections looted from a hotel room and completely devoid of pestering wives.

1

Three Floyd’s Gumball Head, Belgian Pale Ale, The Midwest Starts Big Leaguing

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Getting some GumballHead, get get getting some-

3 floyds Gumball head Belgian Pale Ale, Indiana Starts Socking Fools.

A: super thin lager clarity, bright yellow gold, nice foamy carbonation, no lacing. It isn’t anything to write home about, but neither was that ornate horse that toppled the walls so lovingly crafted by Poseidon. Both involve epic things.

S: It smells of pine and orange, some lemon zest, but not in a huge hoppy DIPA/IPA way, more understated. It feels like someone who knows a good deal about hops but references then so expertly that the underlying experience is presented clearly.

T: very mellow citrus notes, quick hop finish, super refreshing, very well done. There is a light hoppy presence that is almost a garnish to the sweet refreshing notes at the outside of the taste. The final amazing closer is the cucumber crispness finish, this beer just screams summertime. Which is strange because I usually imagine summertime in Indiana as being muggy, boring, and not delicious. Paradoxes abound.

M: Just fantastic, especially for a cross-over style. They seemed to take a big risk by compromising the smallest elements, resulting in a huge payoff. In reality, they need to only sell these in growlers because that is the reasonably demanded service size of this refreshing beer.

D: This makes me hate the Midwest even further. It is strictly unfair that a place without a beach, without any coastal weather would make something with this level of refreshment. I don’t sit around reading Sherpa books, I don’t go rotating city crops in urban los angeles, because I KNOW MY PLACE. It just is not fair that Indiana makes a beer like this and then withholds it from the west coast. It is akin to the aesthetics of Mormons. Patent base denial.

Narrative: Parents were a little skeptical of Gumbalicitus, a shiny new fangled prescription drug for unruly Midwestern children. Settlers used to call it wind sickness, but they soon learned that it was an irascible desire to leave locations of concentrated boredom. That is, until this new drug arrived, served in 12oz doses, the highly enjoyable cocktail drug apparently makes even the flattest, most agricultural areas completely tolerable. Iowa parents noted that their students even volunteered to stay in-state upon being prescribed this barbituate calming drug. Side-effects include narcolepsy, contentment, desires to attend comicons, Xbox live subscriptions, and consumption of Hot Pockets. Gumbalicitus is only to be provided to those in need. Anyone living within 90 miles of the Pacific Ocean should not take this drug as it may result in an endorphine overload, burning out the neural cortex. SHIPPING IS STRICTLY DISALLOWED TO CALIFORNIA.

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Hill Farmstead CAGEMATCH: Regular Everett vs. Barrel Aged Everett Porter, feefeeefeeeenfeeeeennnnnn

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Hillfarmstead all dark up in this mix

Hill Farmstead Everett Cagematc- OH SHIT STOPLOSS IS ON? This night just got amazing.

Two 7% abv Porters duke it out for their father’s affection. Also, hey, Stop Loss is on.

Each one will plead their case in turn with a verdict at the end.

Appearance

BA

A: There is a deep watery mahogany to the color, not black but a rich chocolate brown. The carbonation is excellent and billows up with tiny bubbles. It’s like Ryan Phillipe’s lack luster presentation, you respect it but you know it could be a bit better.

Regular

A: The same as the BA version but with khaki bubbles instead of off-white. So like if Ryan did a summer at Catholic camp up in the high desert.

Winner goes to the regular version.

Smell

Barrel Aged

S: Warm boozy toffee and caramel notes, vanilla, nice cocoa waft, and a deep roasted honey note. There is a dryness of oak and a warm bourbon waft. It’s like dad came home looking all like a Tennessee Williams play but he brought you some Werther’s Originals.

Regular

S: The nose is less boozy but with more of a deeper chocolate waft. There is more of an almond and walnut, it is simpler in execution but not as much heat and simpler. It’s more like dad is a Eugene O’ Neill play and he has no candy.

Winner goes to the BA

Taste

Barrel Aged

T: There is fantastic prickly heat to the outset that gives a great boozy taste and a warming sweetness. The oakiness has a dryness to the swallow that gives your chest a nice warmth with a sweet cocoa finish. Imagine if you were 12 years old and ate a whole box of alcohol chocolates, not taken from autobiography, you’d be bloated but smelling all sultry like a community college student from Alabama.

Regular

T: There is far less heat and it’s a much more direct approach. The body is the same but without the intense prickliness and hot vanilla, the wood and almond notes stand out more and give a nice creamy finish like chocolate milk. It’s like the BA version goes for a high note and the regular supports a more standard chocolatey simplicity. You’d be more stoked if the Econoline van had windows in addition to chocolate, but hey sometimes thems the cards you’re dealt when your parents send a proxy to pick you up.

Winner goes to the BA

Mouthfeel

Barrel Aged

M: The mouthfeel is swift and hot, it is intense along the bittering zones but confuses the sweet palate with a strangely warm vanilla aspect that pulls this experience all over the place. The carbonation is a little bit less impressive in the BA version and feels less effervescent. Give old Nana a sloppy wild Turkey Kiss.

Regular

M: The mouthfeel is creamy with a fantastic chocolatey finish. The carbonation has tiny bubbles that crackle like woody alka seltzer. It is incredibly smoothe and washes away with a sweet toffee flavor.

Winner goes to the regular version

Drinkability

Barrel Aged

D: This beer is more fantastic to savor and ruminate on. The intense heat and pleasant warmth are more delicious, but ultimately hinder the drink ability of the beer. I was able to drink the regular version much more easily, but it was less memorable.

Regular

D: These are easily two vastly different beers and ultimately the regular version is easier to drink and much simpler to enjoy at first blush. It is like how an Accord is easier to drive than a Lambo, but ultimately the difficulty has its own pay offs.

Winner goes to the regular version.

What we learned

Ultimately, the regular version was amazing, more refreshing, and ultimately, disappeared faster. However, it simply wasn’t as memorable and it didn‘t shock me like a Step By Step Halloween special. Overall, was the regular version better? Sure I guess, but I preferred the barrel aged version because it was so much more vibrant and interesting. Short Circuit 1 was good and easy to enjoy but Gold Baller Version of Johnny 5 in Short Circuit Two was cooler, despite the fact that there was no Steve Gutenberg.

VERDICT: Regular Version Is The More Desirable, Popular Sister With Clearly Less Inherent Merit, Nerdy Interesting Sister
Who Lived in A Barrel Will Ultimately Develop a Sick Rack.

Remanded and Affirmed.

0

Two Brothers, Askew, Sour/American Wild Ale

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Those Brothers, A bit Askew

Askew, Two Brothers Sour, As Bitter as Jaleel White when Family Matters was cancelled.

A: hazy orange with murky carbonation bright yellowing at the edges ample lacing. I could use some more victorian lacing to sip on with Mrs. Dalloway but, to each his own.

S: lots of wine acidity and funk with tart white grape and sour apple some melted sour patch kids cherry smell, its like a 28 year old mom, drunk, seeing CARS 2, with her 10 year old kid. Happens far too often.

T: huge dry tartness that overrides all fruit notes with a bitter souring probably one of the sourest wilds that I have had some cherry and grapefruit notes emerge but the huge acidity and Pickering profile dominates. Imagine a highbrow Bolivian who was a viticulturist in the old country and now, works at Arby’s.

M very thin with minimal coating or lacing huge drying effect but a solid middle body it gets better when it warms up the tartness is more mellow it feels like it needs to be aged for a year or two to mellow out the acerbic aggression. You want to believe all those 2am emails that it will change, but you know the truth.

D: very drinkable surprisingly given it’s hostile initial stance I wish that this were more accessible it’s a great take on the sour and pushes the tart fruits to the limits. My sour hole is all expanded.

Narrative: Mr. Billingsly watched the teenagers file into his classroom lazily, each swinging their Geometry books without regard. “Look at them, each one of them no respect for Euclidian postulates, just going through the damn motions.” He stared down his brow and tapped his fingers disapprovingly and waited for them to take their seats. Things weren’t the same for Old Mr. Billingsley since his brother died. It was his roommate, his best friend, and his basic grasp on common courtesy. “Come on now, this is 3rd period, not the entire afternoon, let’s have a SEAT!” The adolescents shifted nervously in their seats and watched him draw a circle on the board. His sour disposition eyed them with scorn “THIS, is circle, but it is not a PERFECT CIRCLE, that doesn’t EXIST!” One student coughed, “OH what’s that? You have an objection to my statement?” “No Mr. Billingsly, I just…you…I mean” Mr. B’s face developed into a tart scowl, his teeth slightly ground upon one another, “THERE IS NO PERFECT CIRCLE” This would be a long sour year of Geometry.

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Cigar City, Marshal Zhukov, Ferris Zhukov’s Day Off

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A Story of the Marshal as a Young Zhukov

This post is a happy birthday to Daniel Behi, who listens to Spin Doctors and sips stouts judiciously.

Cigar City, Marshal Zhukov, 11% abv, imperial stout

Appearance: This is the darkest stout that I have ever seen. This has officially dethroned both Abyss and Hunaphus. The oily inky nature almost tumbles out in an incredibly viscous heavy solution. The coating is massive and lends huge brown webs of cotton candy to the rim of the glass. The carbonation is huge and produces a deep mahogany head, which makes me question if a brew this baleful is meant to be consumed. It’s that 2am text that generates so much hatred, but such amazing results.

Smell: Deep dark chocolate, burnt brownies, candied bacon, cinnamon, and melted toffee. It’s like if a Heath Bar got its ass beat in a slaughterhouse. You know, the old Upton Sinclair scenario.

Taste: The first thing is a spicy alcoholic heat that dances and imparts a whisky peat hot character that melts into a nestle dark chocolate booziness. As you swallow you get a caramel and butterscotch that is underscored throughout by a relentless coffee from the deep malts. Just a relentless and incredibly complex stout.

Mouthfeel: After 12oz the glass that I am using has this incredibly dull khaki color to it. All of the edges have been coated in a sticky hateful caramel sludge. The coating is just incredible and I am happy to have a beer step up to dethrone the Abyss in this regard. When you swallow it just hangs out for ages, lingers like customers at Musician’s Friend. The coffee and burnt chocolate notes resound for ages, like college kids discovering Radiohead for the first time. YOU HAVE TO GET THIS STOUT TORRENT, SO PITTED.

Drinkability: This is an incredible stout and, given its availability and incredibly deep character, I would easily say that it is world class. It makes me wonder what the Final Push is like, the beer that is. Had I never had the Hunaphus, I would lose my shit over this beer but, I wont let that take away from what this beer has accomplished. It isn’t a top 5 stout, but it is still memorable and you could pick it out of a lineup. This is the rapist stout, the one with the lazy eye and the whiskey breath.

Narrative: “MARSHAL! Please, we need your decision, it’s….it’s a massacre out there.” The young private doffed his cap and gripped it patiently awaiting further instructions. The battle of Moscow raged violently just kilometers from his outpost but Marshal Zhukov gritted his jaw defiantly and stared intently into the furniture manufacturing district. “Protect the, the furniture comrade, without nice seats, the soldiers will grow weary, all baroque pieces, must be saved brother.” The brigadier general nodded solemnly and understandingly. Zhukov was a hard man with a penchant for petulant decadence. “Sir, we have an entire regiment of German troops, they wish to bargain, “Begin Ciphered Telegram no. 4976, begin with ‘My sincerest apologies (FN1)” Through the flurry of questions, the dark hearted general maintained his sweet side, despite commanding millions and sending thousands to brutal deaths. “LOOK COMRADE! An icicle has to be formed on the rim of the panzer tank belts, I think I shall for to have a licking.” Oh that wacky Zhukov! (FN2) [On 28 September 1941, Zhukov sent ciphered telegram No. 4976 to commanders of the Leningrad Front and the Baltic Navy, announcing that returned prisoners and families of soldiers captured by the Germans would be shot. This order was published for the first time in 1991 in a Russian magazine (Beginning) No. 3.] “IN SOVIET RUSSIA, REFERENCES FOOTNOTE YOU.” Footnote 2, he did this, citation needed.

0

Goose Island Juliet American Wild Ale, Jamammy name Juliet

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Wherefrought Art Thou

Juliet, My Sun, wherefrouartthou, Jamammy name Juliet

Goose Island Juliet 6.7% Wild Ale

A: Deep amber and light ruby notes, almost no carbonation, no lacing, very tame in body not very sticky, and like the foam parties of the late 90’s I like dem bodies all sticky icky. Also Chemical Brothers, where applicable.

S: Huge wild notes, funk vinegar, grape peels, sour blackberries, tart wood finish, but let me tell you about the REST OF HER. Ba dum tish.

T: The fruits are more mellow, but refreshing. I will rarely give Consecration a run for its money but this is very on point for the style and finish. I ultimately love the oaky and high abv of the Consecration but this is just fantastic. The vinous notes are supported with background sweetness and the tannins are great and add a layer of complexity to it. It gets down all tart and starts merking the gumline, popping and locking all up in the sweet and sour zones, popin lockin dropin that birthday cake.

M: It is very light in maltiness, thank god, and lets the fruits and wild aspect take charge with the full character. The drying fruit skin notes resonate for just long enough to make you want to reengage. I love that it doesn’t cop out the indistinct sweet/cider route or try to be a gueuze in disguise. This is distinctively sour and the experience is top notch. It’s doing things well without additives, like when sours rock fake contact lenses or extensions, you know something is up. Or when your sour only earns $800 per pay check but has that LV bag, you know something straight questionable. Not here, Juliet keeps it real.

D: All. Day. Long. This is a great beer and the abv makes it universally accessible and great to offer anyone. The light character with HUGE taste makes a crazy synergy that makes me want multiple bombers of this. If I had more patience, I would age it further and enjoy the mellowed version but, I do not and it is great as it is. It’s pretty legit, not exactly too legit to warrant quitting, but, quite legit.

Narrative: Juliet knew she had something special to her. At first it was just idle whispers when she was younger. As she came of age, she learned to hone in on the narratives and focus in on the voices in her head. She had learned to learn a lot of things from the flowers, especially in the month of June. It was an ethereal talent that really did not give her any special insight to the world, but it was a power her own. “JULEZ? Are you still sitting out in the boysenberry patch?” Her conversation was interrupted abruptly and she had to put the rhododendron on hold. “Yeah mom, hang on.” The flowers really just complained and imparted sour notes into her life, but, somehow being so in sync with the idle problems of the flora made he feel whole. Juliet was a sweet minx, but sour through and through. “BUT PRAYTELL, HOW SHE FIT ALL THAT IN THEM JEANS?” the tawdry floral chorus sang in unison as she walked away.

1

3f Schaerbeeske Kriek, lambic, Acidic Cherry Gastritis 6% abv

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Face Melting Grenadine

3f Schaerbeeske Kriek, lambic, fruit, 6% abv

Appearance: This beer looks like grenadine on steroids. It projects this vibrant red and foamy pink pallor that is both inviting and a sign of toxins, acquired from the wild. The lacing is pink and sticky with incredibly tiny bubbles. It’s like Rose` for hard drug users.

Smell: There is a musky mossy cardboard finish to the nose of this beer. The cherry and strawberry notes are present and smell delicious and almost too archetypical to be real, like this is a type of lambic bubble bath. The smell makes me think that this will melt my face like Christopher Lloyd in who Framed Roger Rabbit. Toontown up in this bitch.

Taste: There is an super drying tart cherry taste to it that just tears the enamel off of your teeth. Your taste buds run for cover, but there will be no shelter provided under this oppressive regime. The drying nature combined with the cherry skins just wipes out the inside top layer of skin in your mouth. If cherries had a chemical warfare program, this would be their dirty bomb. It is delicious and caustic at the same time, like a well balanced Taylor Swift album. AND JUST AS BITTERING.

Mouthfeel: Well, the mouthfeel is, thin, sharp, and painful. I have no other way to describe it. Perhaps if this had a couple years to think about its past transgressions, it might be nicer outside the bottle but it is a rampaging asshole through and though. You just get this sweet tart needling like brambles rolling over your tongue. Somehow, it is all worth it, I cannot explain how or why. It is similar to eating an Atomic Warhead when you were a little kid, the sweet part makes the tortuous coating worthwhile. You wake up with cankersores and check webMD to realize that herpes are the OUTSIDE mouth kinds of sores and breathe a sigh of relief.

Drinkability: The huge price tag, violent mouthfeel, and incredible tartness make it tough to justify this asshole. I feel like a battered wife sticking up for it, but I suppose that it does have some redeeming factors. It is incredibly delicious and I am sure a vintage of this would be amazing. I just don’t know any average person that you could pop this open with at a ski lodge or, on a Grayhound bus to meet your baby’s momma. No pedestrian endeavors here, just cherry violence and infidelity.

Narrative: It took years of failed testing, losses, and emotional turmoil but Xenidyne Tech had finally completed its magnum opus, Grenidation Chericite, the most powerful cherry substance known to man. It was the cherry equivalent of a neutron star with billions of orchards compacted into its tiny buzzing core. The bright red orb rotated at whizzing speeds within the class translucent containment unit emitting red bolts of power with enough cherry to kill a man. “If we could only, remove the pits, we could harness even more cherry power into its core!” Professor Bergstrom ruminated, while drawing hackneyed scientific symbols on a white board. “BUT SIR! That’s too much cherry for one…FOR ANYONE!” Professor Bergstom turned quickly and gripped his notepad, “YOU TELL THAT TO MY DAUGHTER, the one who died because her Shirley Temple didn’t have enough cherry in it, the one who cried and ran out of that Red Robin and was hit by a car, YOU TELL HER THAT SHE DOESN’T DESERVE ANY MORE CHERRY!” The assistant lowered his head solemnly “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” “If I can’t bring her back, then I can allow her legacy to live on, IN TARTNESS!” he turned a large hackneyed dial that amped up the chericites, a unit of measure used to the intensity of cherriness in any given substance. “THE CHERRICITE CORE IS GOING TO BLO-” The fuschia mushroom cloud sent a massive turbid layer of fandango into the valley. The papers would unabashedly utilize the phrase “Cherry Bomb” in a tasteless fashion.