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DUAL WHALE SHOOTOUT: New Belgium Twisted Spoke and 2009 C&C La Folie, Lats Flexing Hard on that AWA Shred

If you are a bottleshop baller, that truck chasing pimp who knows every collaboration New Belgium has ever done, an adjunct loving asshole who can decry the subtle nuances of the Peach Porch Lounger relative to the vastly inferior Brett Beer, maybe you should get the fuck out of here. This clearly is not for you. This is the deep subrectum of the New Belgium catalogue that most tickers dare not tread. This is that NB C&C Game, swag to the fullest. If I wasn’t such a punk pussy, maybe I could have landed Falling Rock and actually presented you with a legitimate whale review as originally planned. I guess we have TacosNBeer to thank for that one, as he backed out of a trade due to the fact that old Subbydoo was banned from BA. I suppose that is another exclamatory tale for another day.

Let’s get deep in these wild ale guts and hit that oaky back cervix.

Back lit, oversaturated photos with sickening aperture. That's how I treat bottles that I hold onto for years.

Back lit, oversaturated photos with sickening aperture. That’s how I treat bottles that I hold onto for years.

New Belgium Brewing
Twisted Spoke:
Colorado, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

“65% Ale aged in a wood barrel, 14% ale with cherries added and ale, 21% ale brewed with Coriander and 100% Aged in apple flavored whiskey barrels.” The beer was hand-bottled August 26, 2010.”

La Folie, Caged and Corked 2009
New Belgium Brewing
Colorado, United States
Style | ABV
Flanders Oud Bruin | 6.00% ABV
“Flemish Sour Brown Ale fermented in stainless then transferred to barrels for 1-4 years of aging then blended to taste.”

Please note, I used the 2009 caged and corked version, not your Hi-V pasteurized start up kit shit. It was to my own detriment, as you will soon see.

A: The Twisted Spoke has held its carb beautifully and has a billowy frothy head that pops and snaps not unlike a baller ass rice cereal. The garnet underpinnings are beautiful and provide a Rodenbach nod of elegance and ruby meets jasper, the hem of regal oriental garments shimmering in crimson regalia. La Folie looks like shit. It lays there completely still like an unmotivated Craigslist encounter. It is darker than its pasteurized counterparts, a deep almost brownish purple that is uninviting and comes across like flat grape soda attempting to muster up a single fuck to give. It is a valuable portent of things to come.

"I reviewed La Folie on my beer blog and it got 95 hits"  Pasteurized: beta as fuck.  Step up your whalegame.

“I reviewed La Folie on my beer blog and it got 95 hits” Pasteurized: beta as fuck. Step up your whalegame.

S: The smell of Twisted Spoke is phenomenal and doesnt approach a hint of oxy or age at this point. I was thinking right around 4 years, AWA hit their sexual peak and start to taper off to autoeroticism, NOT TWISTED SPOKE. I can see this holding up for another couple of years before reducing to vinegar strokes. There is a bright cherry, jazz apple, white grape, intense raspberry farmers market makeout sesh, brandy, port sherry oak like those mahogany rooms Nana used to work in. There is a touch of acetic red wine vinegar but it is in light of the foregoing and more a throwback to the flanders red style as a whole than an implicit flaw. Still bangable for sure. La Folie just can’t get its shit together. It is vinegar, just straight acetic flaws, the burn of salad dressing from Sizzler, tart acidity, some currants, the brown ale just waving its sloppy dark cock all on the sink. You get vintage nail polish remover and some Aquanet, which might give you a chub if you piped down hard in the 80s. Not me tho, this shit sucks.

T: The Twisted Spoke follows through with full completion of the olfactory elements. No ticktease here. It delivers a complex tartness, tannic cherry skin, a touch of brandy sweetness which is like caramelized apples in a Home Run pie, and closes with a drying kiss of that flanders smooch. Delicious. One again La Folie is zipping its nutsack up in its footie pajamas. It’s like for fucks sake La Folie, you have the grace of Daniel Day Lewis in My Left Foot and the collected poise of The Elephant Man, at least taste good. It cannot, if you thought that chemical acetone was gonna taste better, I guess it doesn’t taste WORSE than it smells, so: victory? This is worse than the offshelf version. Past its prime, dip a baguette in it or serve it over kale salad.

With Flanders reds and wilds in general, balance and reasonable execution beat speed and Robotnik banging

With Flanders reds and wilds in general, balance and reasonable execution beat speed and Robotnik banging

M: The Twisted Spoke is a touch too drying for my tastes and rips along the gumline like that coward Shaun White, afraid to hit those deep pockets for fear of injury. The fruit flavors balance it out and this aspect has probably gotten more aggressive over the past 4 years, but here we are. La Folie just sloppily hits the bitter and the sour zones, trying to bang anything it can like a drunk bisexual Peruivan. It is a confused mess that is not only more tart, less fulfilling, but just facepalm worthy in general. As long as Duchess exists, you can avoid 2009 C&C La Folie without losing any sleep.

D: Twisted Spoke is delicious and complex, however, it is not exceptionally drinkable in light of its intense acidity, highly layered presentation, and lingering dryness. You get that GERD pretty early in, but its a fulfilling pain, like paying a high end stripper to work you over with a pack of twizzlers. La Folie, oh man, I don’t really have much more to say about this borderline condiment. I hazarded a 5 ounce pour, welcoming the shit talking from the anonymous contingency that is my degenerate fan base. The joke was on me throughout because it sucked shit throughout all 5 ounces, like when you look at a Brendan Frazier DVD and you see that 81 minute run time and you are like “oh well, that cant be too bad.” It is fucking horrible. La Folie in this format is a huge disappointment. Did you even see Crash? Fucking Ludacris.

This will get up in your grill hard.  Mayor McCheese will have the leather couch and the tripod.

This will get up in your grill hard. Mayor McCheese will have the leather couch and the tripod.

Narrative: Just take all the foregoing La Folie sentences above and add a paper thin proper noun monicre and personify it in some blatant overstatement. DDB 101.

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Alpine Bad Boy Double Imperial Pale Ale, Bad Boys Go To Their Respective Hop Rooms.

This beer always comes up when the best Double IPAs in the world are discussed. Hell, it is on most top 100 lists and constantly spars with Ephraim and Citra. Let’s stop pussyfooting around and figure this shit out once and for all, how good is the crowning DIPA glory from San Diego’s finest hop masters? We shall see.

This particular 64oz growler, I did not skull to my dome piece, so my judgment was not impaired. Better than Hill Farmstead Ephraim? Sadly no. But still amazing. There, I said it.

Alpine Bad Boy, 9.5% abv, Double IPA

A: This has a radiant golden glow to it with a great clarity like majestic apple juice. The lacing looks like an abandoned haunted house and these a tons of webs all up in this piece. This be looking mad antiquated. The carbonation from the growler is solid and sticky throughout. This looks dangerous and somehow session able.

This beer has an amazing salad meets hop oil converging with pineapple and bunny musk going on.

S: The smell even on opening the growler is relentless. The hop presence detonates like pinecones galvanized all up in your dome piece. There is a grassy pineapple to it with some herbal grapefruit. I would deem this 60/40 herbal to fruit which is a solid balance. Hop Wallop needs to take some notes. This has more balance than a Chinese gymnast with an inner ear infection.

T: This is exactly what Alpine does so. Damn. Well. It just delivers a huge initial sweetness that fades into a freshly cut grassiness that makes you feel all elementary school for a second until, bam, honey sweetness that fades. This is like the more tactful version of Hopslam. A friend you can confide secrets in, a hoppy buddy you can take places and know he wont talk about when someone touched your no no. That kind of friend.

The scope of the undertaking is impressive, wait till you see the taste.

M: The mouthfeel is impossibly light. It is Pale Ale thin, imparts a huge herbal character that swirls a maple cape and fades into a loveable sweet note. It is David Blaine ass hop work. It leaves my mouth all astounded but wanting more. I suppose a growler is both an appropriate and inappropriate serving size, for obvious reasons. This will take a serious prestige amongst Ephraim and Citra. To be clear, this is far superior to Exponential Hoppiness in the way that Nightcrawler is superior to Colossus. It is just someone I would rather hang out with on a regular basis. This is nimble and bad ass, not some lumbering asshole who always asks you to save his sister from a tractor.

D: Holy jeez, this is the Live Oak of DIPA’s which is to say its drink ability is off the charts for the ABV and the complex character of the hop profile. I almost want to run my own tests to ascertain if this has any more than 4% abv but, the old liver test is sufficient. The fact that this is not in bottles has allegedly saved CalTrans millions in roadside clean ups. So there’s always that.

With a growler in tow, you can go on some epic San Diego adventures where you will no doubt lose your shoes and your entryway will be soaked in the morning.

Narrative: “Well? Did you find anything? All OF THE OPENINGS ARE SEALED!” Tarynn cried with the utmost agitation, Mark felt that a reference to ‘that’s what she said’ would be not apropos in the case of a spelunking disaster. “WE ARE GOING TO DIE DOWN HERE!” Tarynn exclaimed while running her fingers through her thinning hair. She fell to her knees in desperation and clutched the halogen lantern desperately. “We can’t be below the water table, so therefore, the sediment should push up some sustainable filtered water and, potentially some veget-” Mark tripped over a thick tuft of underground foliage. “What in the-” he discontinued his sentence in that staccato manner that characters in situation comedies do, despite not being interrupted. “HECK” he finished, but so much later that it didn’t seem canon with his previous sentence. “What is it Mark?” Tarynn called out. There was a fresh pool of water seeping through the floor but it was fully entwined by sticky, vinuous hop plants. The smell was overwhelming. “This-” he did it again, “is our only chance of survival.” The two nodded gravely and began to suck from the pools the sticky water and push raw hop flowers into their gullets. “If only we-” Mark declared before falling asleep. The geological team found them 8 days later, high out of their minds on raw hop flowers. Mark’s sentences have since been correc-