New vedeo revue: Hot Coffee KIBBIS, Ghost Scoprion FUSSEL NOTES.

so many kibbis notes, today we are learn about coffe bers. most aren’t fussel enough, to increase the heat units you need ot unblock the malts.

today we use the toyota solera method to make more hotter beers. using a soler vessel.


@drugstorebrewer Ale Apothecary Triple Scissor Shootout: Those sub-300 bottle count bangers, for the haters.

Slowly but surely, beta tickers are starting to turn off their Tae Bo tapes and now are discovering saisons. As much as I didn’t want this to happen, like those first tufts of curlies, all those baby 2012 bitches are taking those wobbly farmhouse steps, jingling daddy’s Wallonia keys. I guess this was the logical extension of waiting on kids who were all about Black Note and KBS last year, now they have a litany of ultra-lactic, wild, high abv super saisons at their disposal and suddenly we have a new crop of saison masters.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Those same weak peninses who thought saisons were all Hennepin and Red Barn suddenly are flexing their traps in the yard, tryna run shit. I am fine with that because I let my Biere De Garde lats swole like bat wings. So what is the deal with all these small run saisons that push the inner butthole of the American Wild Ale game? Cory King is kicking out these 400 bottle runs monthly and now has main bitches and side bitches in his Sidekick. Chase started crushing up lines of Caravienna on a CD case and letting tickers wipe it on they gums now guess who is hooked?

Today I wanna holler at these mountainous farmhouse purveyors up in Oregon. I picture head brewer, Paul Arney, doing burpees and deep dips in a hollow out spruce coolship, cooking up these super saisons turned wild ales, working on his chest piece. So it wasn’t like their “normal” lineup of Sahalie and…uh…La Tache I guess, were easy to come by. Those were already like 700 bottle runs and asspensive. So I moaned initially at the idea of having to seek out their LIMITED shit. The waiting list for their AA club is over a year long and I don’t have that kinda patience. Luckily, the PNW traders are staggeringly charitable and hooked it up.

Today we will be counting down the recent limited Ale Apothecary releases, RANKING THEM, and tossing beats along the way. Because I am not writing no 2700 words with narratives and shit.


We are not the same, I am a Martian, approach these cellar doors with caution

We are not the same, I am a Martian, approach these cellar doors with caution

The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | ABV 9% (handwritten, hard to see?)

Why is this a bitch:
270 bottles produced
Ale Club members will receive theirs automatically, leaving “100-150 up for grabs”
No bottles will be available for public retail sales

– Alright first and foremost this is by no means a “bad beer.” Not unlike the Blind BABW tasting results the competition is fierce because we are talking about top tier super saysuns/AWAs. I initially opened this super cold because I had carbonic acid issues with MASSIVE carb and gushing. It’s like AA takes a page from old Logsdon on their attenuation swag. This spill out as lively as Champagne and just sits soapy with a thick domeshot of Palmolive bubbles.

This is strange, but you welcome it lovingly.  RIEEEECHARD PARKER farmhouse swagger.

This is strange, but you welcome it lovingly. RIEEEECHARD PARKER farmhouse swagger.

– This beer is just too. fucking. sour. I know some people do naked diamond pushups and call me a pussy but the lactic profile coupled with the low ph, intense dryness, and crackly overcarbing just makes this hard for the 750ml trudge. I mean, I still finished it and really enjoyed it but god damn, it’s like going to Mormon summer camp, just running your mouthraw with that farmhouse heavy petting. This has a tart bouquet of tangerine, light bitterness like orange pith, grapefruit juiciness, and a closer that is bittering like some of the Blaugies offerings. I still killed it, would love to try it again, but this is the least balanced and more extreme of their offerings. Still def. recommended.




The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 10.70% ABV

Why people lose their shit over this:
SPENCER (The Dispenser of Provisions) is our annual fruit beer. In the early fall, we harvest wild blackcurrant fruit and add it to a batch of year-old SAHALIE. The sugars in the fruit produce another fermentation and the blackcurrant tannins create additional structure over the 8-month aging period. Prior to bottling, the beer is dry-hopped for a month in oak barrels. With close to 2 years in oak, Spencer has a much more developed Brettanomyces character than our other beers.
 Because of the extremely limited quantity of wild blackcurrant available, we produce only one oak barrel of Spencer every year. This beer is unlabeled and reserved exclusively for our Ale Club members.

This tart sniper looks inviting and will put you down just as fast

This tart sniper looks inviting and will put you down just as fast

– See all of that above? That reads like a romance novel for the modern beer trader. All those adjectives just create that perineum tingling that people who seek Raries just gotta have. I really enjoyed this beer and loved the riff on the same Ale Apoth offerings. This has even MORE absurd carbonation, on the same level of Sahati where you pour it and just stand back like “alright, enough already.” When this finally settles down it has a radiant golden, quasi turbid precious metal allure to it.

– This beer is less dry than Sahalien and is easily the most drinkable, the abv in all of these beers is laughably imperceptible but this one drinks like a belgian table beer and you could pull some PUNK’D stunts on your bisexual roomate with this sleeping beast. You get apricot, tart kumquat, there is light graininess to it and this would be the closest to the super saisons and less in the AWA realm. If you liked Fantome Extra Sour, you will really dig this beast. Again, highly recommended. Top tier, china white, not stepped on product.


Prepare to not drink this beer.  Fucking top tier AWA/Saison, whateveruwannacallit.  It goes in hard.  Multiple climaxes,

Prepare to not drink this beer. Fucking top tier AWA/Saison, whateveruwannacallit. It goes in hard. Multiple climaxes,

The Ale Apothecary
Oregon, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

First and foremost, I think La Tache got caught up in some petty wine litigation not unlike SUCABA, because now we have this disclaimer version. I can only speculate, but any way. The base beer was fucking awesome, then they RAR’ed it hard in rum barrels, then added the WHALEFRUIT: white peaches. I think this was a 230 bottle release with most of the bottles taken to the Second Annual Portland Wild Ale Festival. I think the AAclub members then got the chance to buy maybe one? If you areolas aren’t tingling then maybe you need to go back to drinking Colette.

This doesnt fit in AWA or Super Saisons, it just stunts hard as fuqqq

This doesnt fit in AWA or Super Saisons, it just stunts hard as fuqqq

– God damn, if this is the Goldlocks paradigm, TBFKALTAIRBwWP just tears it up and is “JUSSSST RIIIITE.” If Sahalien pulled your hair too hard, but Spencer wouldn’t talk dirty to you, this is just the right amount of wrong. The balance is incredible between the juice, acidity, funk, barrel, and laughably hidden abv. The carbonation is the most retrained out of any AA offering thus far, the hue is a perfect deep orange, slightly murky, that orange and pineapple ester profile just banging, peach jolly ranchers falling in but dropping a 2/4 acidic beat, not a sticky sweetness. The nose has a muskiness, light funk that is dominated in equal parts by the acidity and juiciness which wasn’t metabolized by that high ass attenuative yeast strain. This is like if Fou Foune and b1 Persica were all tongue kissing and you are peeping through a painting with the eyes cut out. It’s that decadent and tawdry, but so fulfilling.

– The taste is fucking phenomenal top to bottom and I would be surprised if this isn’t within the realm of DDB top beers of 2014. I really can’t offer many descriptors for improvement aside from a slightly sweet cloying aspect at higher temps, light fusel presence in the low 60’s, and other nit picky shit. But in all honesty, the fruit interplay with the acidic tannic finish and caramel underpinnings of the rum barrel make for a peach jubilee that is both dry but assertive, juicy but gentle, you can take her to your parents but also pull her weave.

This is the real deal, through and through. Cannot recommend highly enough. Now I will never try this shit again because asshole DDB readers always ruin it for me on the ISO;FT boards.


BFM (Brasserie des Franches-Montagnes) XV (√225 Saison) – Math nerds cupping them swiss saison racks

I sometimes have to field dumbshit complaints like “you never review beers I have heard of,” or “where is your KBS review? I need to know, plz, DDB captainsaveaho” and then I lol and drop 900 words on another obscure farmhouse beer because, this site ain’t bout that basic bitch shit. We aren’t on doing Frozen “LET IT GO” covers and posting instagram pics of us at Coachella listening to Lorde and shit. Go to another trifling beer site for that, there are plenty.

So today we have an ultra-legit top 50 saison that I have been longing for, ArchEnemy hooked this up. Apparently people in the PNW dont want to drop $30 on a weird looking “18 century ale.” MOAR FOR ME. Today we finna huff that Swiss Mist, tickers be like “SwizzySwizzy when your saison droppin?”

I was gonna chope this bitch up, but then I realized I might not tick this again. BOY WOULD MY FACE BE RED.

I was gonna chope this bitch up, but then I realized I might not tick this again. BOY WOULD MY FACE BE RED.

BFM (Brasserie des Franches-Montagnes)
Style | ABV
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.00% ABV

A: This rolls out of the bottle like a broken dishwasher spraying luminous foam all over the place, attenuated as fuck, that 90% strain just working those malts like a laquered floor at Magic City. Those straw red bottoms are clacking at the top of the saison pole and the webbing looks like Peter Parker just re-upped his subscription to Brazzers. The whole affair is turbid like a roll in the hay and the haze looks like someone is smoking dro in a tanning bed. The whole thing is dirty and fulfilling, like watching 3 hours of Nostalgia Critic and lying about it.

Beers like this are strange, but somehow you respect them because you know they mean business.

Beers like this are strange, but somehow you respect them because you know they mean business.

S: This is incredddddibly musky. Holy shit, I can only imagine how this tiny 5% abv ramped up and boosted out this huge acidic cheesy nose. You get some lemongrass, jamba juice rinds, The brett takes top billing and dips hard, accenting the acidity from the wild aspects of this yeast. This is chunky and dry, acidic curds and whey, lemon meringue cornbread cooling on the windowsill, and then you gotta change your Anchor Blue jeans because you just farmhoused so hard.

T: This takes the acidic nose and takes the cheesiness and funk to gruyere levels. The musk is like the Brabantiae of the saison world and I wish I had an old ass bottle of this, top tier farmhouse ale no question. The middle is a touch of breadiness and biscuit, with a sharp cheddar rind dryness and this pithy orange/grapefruit peel finish. It is incredibly dry and leaves a linger herbal creaminess along the gumline like you just sucked off a Shaman, but you are ok with it, because you finna tick. Incredibly complex beer on the nose and the mouth, call an ENT and get some biopsies done.

You pop this beer and a sense of urgency rolls over you.

You pop this beer and a sense of urgency rolls over you.

M: This is creamy not unlike Ete, but imparts an intense dryness from the musk and funk. The FG on this must be like negative platos, anti matter sucking all nether-malts into the void. It is acidic but so balanced in the approach that you can chain these hard, 750ml is a LOL serving size and the 5% abv just gets your all excited and it ends suddenly. You can guzzle this, the carb doesn’t slow you down, the acidity doesn’t dry you out, the musk isn’t cloying, and the thin body isn’t substantial enough to fill you up. THIS IS A ROBOT SAISON THAT CANNOT BE REASONED WITH. I don’t know if Wallonia would give this a full nod, farms all on the sides of the alps like Snowboarder Kids [fn1 – N64] but in the end it is just fucking delicious and if this was a true 18th century ale, I would not have gotten jack shit harvested or planted. I would have been all swerved in Zurich chopping up Roussean flows; what were we even talking about-

D: See above and make a quick inference whether this is exceptionally drinkable. This is a top tier saison for sure and I wish it would either 1) be more available or 2) dipshit tickers who secretly love AWA would leave beers like this alone. My site isn’t helping my cause by exposing saisons on the reg to stoutmouthed masses. It is a double edged sword, I want to show the world the new way i found out how to touch myself but then everyone steals my bit. So if you like wild ales and ultra acidic lambics, go drink those and leave us poor farmhouse drillers to our provincial toil. I can’t have it both ways, I can’t both praise beers like this and then continually rip on people who seek out KBS and black note like they are whales. The plaintive truth is that the second the 2013 wave of tickers moves to the next evolution of their palates they are gonna babyboom the fuck out of the farmhouse world. Draining our resources, not paying into the system, you know. Let’s just hope these newbz still think saisons are all Red Barn and Hennepin for the time being. Let us pray.

Tired of hearing dipshits argue over stout values? Drink saisons. It's basically like calling Social Services for your liver.

Tired of hearing dipshits argue over stout values? Drink saisons. It’s basically like calling Social Services for your liver.

Narrative: Jacob Donalds surveyed the contents of his spacious “cellar” and nodded in calm approval. The northwest corner of his parent’s basement in northern Ohio was his palatial estate, racks upon racks of IKEA shelves with bottles upon bottles of stouts and porters distributed nationwide. While submitting resumes on Monster.com he would take brief breaks to run his finger along his collection of Stone IRS bombers, lovingly caressing the cardboard boxes from each of his Parabola mainstays, kept in perpetual slumber. There was seldom a time that he did not mention his age when presenting this opulent stash, “NOT BAD FOR A 24 YEAR OLD RIGHT?” he would importune to his uncaring friends. Still, when the sun would dip low across the insubstantial horizon, he felt a panging and a hollow emptiness that perhaps he was not the most knowledgeable person in the entire world. His self image was affirmed regularly by his 134 person Facebook group and the accolades that followed upon posting photos of 2 bottles of Abyss were not insubstantial. Still, while running his fingertips over bottles and bottler of BCBS there was a vision of a higher calling, a more perfect style, as high as the Swiss alps, as refreshing as a kumquat harvest, running barefoot across fields in northern france. For now he would content himself to chocolates and coffees, for to embrace the unknown was to lay prostrate to a tradition of history whose power lay not in starting platos, but finish gravity.


Surly CynicAle, For All The Sophists, Cynics, Epicureans, and Stoics


I figured for saison week, we have to have something relatively NORMAL up in the mix so that people don’t think that Saisons are exclusively for pretentious assholes. This saison is not only 1) amazing and 2) off the shelf but it also 3) comes in a can. That means you can slam this shit at the lake, while installing that body kit on your 1997 Eclipse GST, or while watching your kid play teeball. This is a rough and tumble sessionable saison that is ready for combat at all times. This may not have a huge funk or wild aspect to it, but god damn it if this isn’t a refreshing example of the style. Let’s pop open some cans in today’s review:

Being Cynicale can make you emotional.

Surly Brewing Company
Minnesota, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.70% ABV

A: This has a radiant gold color to it with an incredible amount of carbonation that rises to the occasion. There is a moderate amount of lacing and the whole affair is bright and uplifting like a Michael Bay movie where you know that the saison hero is going to come out on top. There isn’t a ton of cling or thickness to the carbonation and it subsides like the emotions of a teenage girl, pretty quickly.

Kill a 4 pack of this, wake up in the morning like “the fuq we do?”

S: This is the most straightforward telling of the saison story that I have had in a while. Since it is pasteurized you obviously don’t get any musk or funk or wild characteristics. However, what is lacks in the wild, it makes up for in the decadent sweet treat department. There’s a deep honey and clove and bubblegum smell to this beer and a cornbread backend like pies cooling on old timey windowsills. There’s also a light peach/pear aspect going on but it is like the background vocals in a Coheed song, you hardly notice them at all.

T: This is incredibly refreshing from the outset with a nice punch of clove and pepper with some bisquik biscuits and some bubblegum that has lost its flavor. It is tough to describe that lingering waxiness but it is delicious and washes away clean. There are some light fruits and a sort of buttery biscuit finish. Again, this isn’t the most ambitious example of the style but at least it doesn’t go on some Surly hop rampage.

This is a strange beer, but totally enjoyable.

M: This is incredibly light and makes you wonder why anyone tries to session any other type of beer when this has the abv, the finish, the look, and the YM charm that gets those teenagers so feided. The whole affair is a flavor bomb with minimal effort. The 16oz can is appropriate and I wish I would get these as extras more often because I rarely want to go out of my way to seek this out on its own because it never seems to last long in my house. BigLobo sent me a 4 pack of it and that shit was merked like John Connor at a Skynet convention.

D: Read the foregoing, this is exceptionally drinkable and totally affordable. The thing I don’t understand is why it is only for sale in places that are frozen for 80% of the year. Ain’t nobody tryna drink a farmhouse ale while ice fishing or whatever it is they do in Minnesota while they aren’t watching the Twins and Vikings lose.

This beer will get you feided on that purp.

Narrative: Sally Weathers was a content housewife enjoying the gentle respite provided by fall in Minnesota. The children were busy outside playing in an igloo that they had just constructed and she lovingly nodded while chopping the iced root vegetables for her famous tundra cabbage stew. It seemed as though the harvest season passed so quickly this year that she scarcely had time to break out the summer jackets from storage. “WHOMP!” a snowball struck the window and she playfully waved a knife at her child through the kitchen window while watching her son jump around in the 9 inches of September snowfall. She longed for the growing seasons that she enjoyed as a child in Salinas, California. She missed receiving that mortgage statement and paying well over $3,000.00 to live in a land not completely forgotten by the civilized world. Those majestic 42 days of sun seemed to pass so quickly, but it was hard to leave when the State paid her family not to leave. Furthermore, work at the ice harvesting farm was plentiful and she could take vitamin D supplements and wait for the sun to return. Life in Minnesota wasn’t easy, but at least she didn’t have to harvest superficial Persian interactions, elective surgeries, American Apparel clothing, and emotionally bankrupt aspiring actresses. Life is all about compromises like the passing of the seasons.


Wyerbacher Seventeen Saison. Orange Peel Lemon Peel Grapefruit Peel- NOW YOU KNOW IT IS REAL

Man there is a ton going on with this beer, yes I know, yet another saison from Pennsylvania. Wahwahwah, “my state did not get enough love” well maybe your state and my liver have a disconnect. I will get to every saison…EVENTUALLY. Ok the first thing that raised my eyebrow is the label, this shit has more going on than a Bruce Gillian movie. “Brewed with orange peel, lemon peel, grapefruit peel and pink peppercorns.” That is quite a bit of things, and usually when there is that much going on my bullshit detectors go off and wonder “what happened to the base beer that they needed all this shit?” But I approach everything with a Fair and Balanced approach, like Fox News, so let’s get this shit.

It is like Sunny D made in a farmhouse. Purple drank omitted.

Weyerbacher Brewing Co.
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 10.50% ABV

A: Holy hell, just take a look at that, it looks like straight up Tampico or Sunny D. I have seen my fair share of orangey orange but this is dead on and pours almost like a wild ale or a gueuze in appearance. There is zero carbonation, zero lacing, zero head: this beer is not fucking around. Maybe the 10.5% abv had something to do with that, but it looks more like a hardass who just posts up on the wall at school dances and doesn’t even like Tony Rich Project. Saisons are supposed to be relaxing, this beer makes me feel tense and worry about the state of my farm.

This saison just goes apeshit and ends up being unimpressive as a result. Chill out bro.

S: Holy fucking fusel. This sets its high octane foot forward more like a poorly integrated belgian tripel and lets you know that it is here you rape your nostrils and your mouth is next. The peppercorn and clove spice is there but it is like a bunch of Liliputians pulling down the hugh abv monster. I don’t think that this is de facto supposed to smell like this, Fantome Extra Sour had 10% abv and drank like a sweet summer day. This just smells boozy and completely off style for something I am supposed to be able to drink in a Big Gulp cup while I take my ex-wife to the clinic.

T: This continues the painful narrative from the last section and busts open your lip with a hot booziness at the outset that subsides into an artificial tasting citrus element and a weird lemon pledge sort of finish to it. Like a naive 14 year old girl, I keep returning to this loser at 19 year old saison boyfriend. The citrus elements are there to balance out all of the madness going on with the booze, lemon, and Pine Sol aspects going on in the background. It is like when your “most sober” friend stands at the door to talk to the cops, but smells like gin and rocket fuel. Everyone’s parents are getting called.

Because I love saisons, I would reluctantly accept this again. Discretely.

M: This is sticky and sweet, then boozy and hot, then dry and awkward. It is basically like high school sex. If this is a saison, then I can hang up the saison mantle and retire knowing that I have been dunked in the River of Styx and reborn. I suspect that they made this, added a fuckload of produce and then Mr. Weyerbacher (or whatever) was like “alright, someone’s ass is on the line, we tried to do a saison like Avery, now we have this” and then did dude was like “hey my housekeeper knows a produce guy (potentially racist)” and then the added some pepper.

D: This is not at all drinkable, I mean, unless you just got into beer and high ABV still gives you a fat chub, but why would Dogfish Head patrons read this site? I am not stoked to finish this 12oz bottle and I sure as shit would not be jonesing to put up some awesome bottles to land moar of this. I guess if you wanted to teach your kids not to drink saisons like Uncle Donald did with the triplets, you would serve them this and they’d get hella sick and avow to stay away from farmhouse ales. That is what this beer is for, teaching baby ducks a lesson.

Don’t crack this open expecting any amazing surprises.

Narrative: In between harvests, Jacob Miller sat in lower Harlem peddling for change. His ill fitting overalls and straw hat were almost anachronistic in the area. He would clank his scythe against the sidewalk and scream obscenities about tilling the land and crop rotation, much to the dismay of the passing masses. He was an outspoken farmer, seeking to ride the coattails of farms he had not tilled, wanting harvests he had not planted. Jacob had a thing or two to learn about the gentle agrarian ways. It wasn’t always about being a loud asshole and pestering people by convincing them that he at one time was somehow involved in agriculture. Most people questioned whether he was a real farmer at all, particularly since the nearest farm was nowhere near Manhattan. One day Jacob found a worn out kazoo and began to rail at onlookers with hit base pageantry. None present were impressed. Splattering mud all over Tommy Hilfiger overalls does not make you an artisan farmer and being loud and overbearing hardly helps one’s cause.