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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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.]

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

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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.

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Sam Adams Utopias, $220 bottle of beer, 27% alcohol by volume, where are my shoes?

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Ah, another classic top 100 gem I have got a few requests to review. Well I took this shit to the dangerzone and lived to tell about it. That’s commitment. I drink expensive shit for your amusement. ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?

Hey guize, remember when we dropped $220.00 on a bottle of beer that was 27% alcohol? Me either, what the fuck happened last night?

Sam Adams Utopias, 27% ABV, American Stong Ale

A: This looks like a copper T1000 hateful solution that is thick and viscous but coats the glass like a zerg hive. There’s an amazing brassiness to it, both color and traditional adjective aspects. No head, no lacing, which is apropos for the innuendos as well I suppose. If you dropped $220 on a bottle of beer there’s gonna be no- well you get it.

Watch out, expensive ass, strong beer that no one else will appreciate here.

S: Holy shit, this is like a deep hateful liqueur but I love it. It’s like reduced IHOP pancakes, maple, sweet brown sugar, smokiness, Honduran tears, I get a note of crushed will, but that is subjective. The entire bouquet has a deep heat to it that is pervasive but, its like a butterface, you put up with it for all the other things going on. OH SHIT A MISOGYNISTIC JOKE.

T: This brings the Heat like Miami. It has a deep caramel taste like Werther’s Original Meets Lava: A Romantic Comedy. There’s such a great toffee, then a dryness from the barrel like you are chewing a pencil dipped in bourbon, then it closes with a finale number of pure butterscotch. If this is beer, then I am on board. It’s like that Kurt Russel movie where that girl gets thrown overboard, fuck, what was that called?

I am not sure what it takes to get a beer up to 27% but I am pretty sure uranium barrels are involved.

M: It is sticky like the La Brea tar pits and just scorching. The age did not help and it just dries in a medicinal extreme way but I really like it. I would recommend it to a friend Amazon, since I know you are watching. It coats and just hits every zone and finishes fire hot like a peat whiskey but in a strangely delicious way.

D: Well I guess this all depends on if you are a wealthy 19th century industrialist. Can you afford to just stroll down to the store and drop 2 bills on a bottle of beer? If so, how do you keep your monocle from getting fogged up with all those middle class laymen taking up all your air. So no, this is not drinkable you monster. Why would you seriously need even more than 6oz of this? If you drink 6oz you just drank 4.5 bud lights, take it easy moneybags.

I am not sure what is going on here, but I am pretty sure it is bad ass. My dick doesn't have a face on it though.

Narrative: Sedwick Billingsley looked upon the court with disdain. The entire post-revolutionary society was a bore to him and traveling did little good for his Francophilic soul. Napoleon had conquered and been deposed, he sold arms to both sides and glutted himself on the business of wartime economies, and how here we sat, wealthy beyond belief but yet unapproached by anyone in the Court. His brash tone and palpable awareness of death made him an abrasive character. He constantly smelled of cognac and macaroons and declared hateful truths with ease. Mr. Billingsly was a complete asshole, but everyone sought to eventually seek his affection. He broke the fan of a fair mademoiselle simply due to the fact that he disliked the color lavender. Sure he was rich, unapproachable, and caustic, but deep down there was something that the general populace saw in him. That green light on Daisy’s dock, that anachronism in an unreliable omniscient narrator, those sweet butterscotch kisses. The nephew of Voltaire tipped his hat to Mr. Billingsley and he cast a franc at his chest so hard that it made him taste maple syrup, which was not even available then. Nabokov entered the court and then promptly exited in his time machine.

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Three Floyd’s Dreadnaught, Double IPA, Maybe She Wont, but then Again Maybe She Wiiiiilllllllll-

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She dreads me. She Dreadsmenaught. But then again maybe she wiiiillll....

Dreadnaught IPA, Three Floyds, 9.5% abv

A: It has a bright cloudy tangerine and orange haziness to it, lots of foam with huge carbonation. The lacing is thin but the whole presentation is great. It is a top 100 gem and I want to to be not as good as it is, but damnit, it’s another non-California DIPA that just owns.

Three Floyd's. I li....I liii-....ILIKEYOUALUT.

S: It reeks of huge grapefruit and tangelo notes, some mild orange rind dryness, and almost zero herbal aspects to it. I have given this to sceptical west coast friends and after their facial reconstructions from hop assault, they were into it. Albeit horribly scarred.

T: The taste almost directly mirrors the smell, which is surprisingly rare in IPAs this big and complex. It has that great juiciness of Sculpin, orange notes, a strange tartness similar to grapefruit or unripe tangerines. This is incredibly refreshing and the abv sneaks in like a Trojan horse. THAT’S NOT THE ONLY TROJAN THAT SNEAKS IN IN THE MIDWES- just kidding they don’t use birth control, you’ve seen their kids right? Ok cool.

You think its just gonna be a standard balanced IPA affair, then it rolls all hard on your bitchass.

M: The mouthfeel is a bit bigger than the standard DIPA but it doesn’t toe into that disappointing maharaja range with excessive coating and chewing. This beer has an exceptional balance, but then beats your ass with hop cones. A strange note that needs commenting upon is how good the bubbles feel. They somehow hit an exceptional attenuation/carbonation level. Three Floyds consistently delivers exceptional products and this one delivers. Not trying to sound all tough, FINE I LIKE THE BUBBLES OK.

D: This is clearly exceptionally drinkable but the lack of availability, price point, and high-ish abv seems to draw away from the universal applicability of this beer. It is a world class but it as far as the epic DIPA class goes it is certainly not best in show. Overall, a great beer and the Midwest has a viable answer to the west coast giants.

Another DIPA that doesn't make distribution to California, what a tease.

Narratives: Shire Grassmuggins was not an exceptional piece of feudalism. It got exceptional amounts of rain and had incredible turnip yields, given the time and labor constrictions. Serfdom never exactly produced the most diligent workers, but, as far as 13th century economies went, Grassmuggins was a solid performer in a bull market. The workers were diligent and took religious holidays often, but the field was almost conscious of its need for crop rotation. The crude tools yielded amazing produce but the soil called out for minor improvements. The wind through the reeds seemed to scream to the peasants for basic nitrates through fertilization. Alas, this shire must let its latent glory remain unknown to other regio