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Terrapin Hopzilla, White Men Can’t Jump, But HOP PUNS sure can

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I always scratch my chin and look with supreme circumspect glances when someone outside of California tells me about their awesome Double IPA. It’s like someone at a bar who hypes up how hot the girls are that are not at the club you currently are at, yet under it all you know deep inside that it might be true, inside (HIGH SCORE MOST PREPOSITIONS IN A SINGLE SENTENCE.) So I heard about this Double IPA from Terrapin, a brewery that I have a special fondness for anyway. From their marketing to their rad product, I am on board with their intents. Some say that they made REM form, I like to believe that, hailing from Athens, Georgia, they made REM break up. EITHER WAY IS AWESOME.

Japanese people hold a special reverence and respect for this beer, despite having never heard of it and having no access to it.

Terrapin Beer Company
Georgia, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 10.80% ABV

Alright so we have a burly, almost 11% abv DIPA on our hands here, look out, complete hard ass coming through. The appearance is awesome, and not just for the style FOR ANYTHING. It has a purely brass radiance that you can see through with a perfectly luminous sheen to it. The carbonation is almost annoying, but bubbly to a fault, like an insecure recent divorcee, but you understand the intent and forgive it. The smell is interesting because at first it hits that tropical o spot (olfactory) but then the heat warms it and it gets onto this honey meets pinecone jam sesh that I am less stoked on. The stoke levels remain noteworthy throughout.

An incredibly hoppy beer from Georgia, no time to explain.

The taste is downright neighborly and it feels like a local kid just raked your leaves and Old Man Clemson just baked one of his famous wheatgrass pies. The block is bustling with honey and springtime and also there is a drug dealer pumping 10.8% abv to the kids RIGHT UNDER YOUR NOSE. Seriously, check your kids room, there’s some ABV snuck in here and Trojan babies will be thrown from the windows when the sacking is complete. I guess you can read that as a larger USC reference, but no one going to that school would have their hands on this, which is a blessing to all.

And now there is a pinecone in your mouth. Wat.

The mouthfeel has this deeply herbal stickiness like clearing super bubonic cashed g13, in common parlance. I have no notes to improve because it is basically doing its own thing, like that crazy dude weaking British Knights and dancing at 7/8ths time in the club, it’s like, he’s original and still good at doing…that…so you just don’t harsh his mellow. I would seek this out again, but more likely cross my fingers and hope for it as an extra in a box.

Ran out of time, i will jazz this post up later, for the haters, so no narrative today.

Here’s an adorable pic to tithe you over:

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Founder’s Kentucky Breakfast Stout, 11.2% abv

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Kentucky Colonialism

Kentucky Colonialism

Founders KBS, Imperial Stout, 11.2% abv

A: Deep oily hues, with very very faint brown at the thinnest edges of the glass. The viscosity on this beer is ridiculously thick and it coats the glass like chocolate robitussin. It pours with a big foamy collar and huge khaki bubbles. That dismissive barista could learn a thing or two about your alcoholism if you had the stones to bring this into Starbucks.

S: Wow. Deep chocolate scents with hints of boozy bourbon notes, cocoa and vanilla bean. The wood is faint and I would appreciate a Pappy Van Winkle version of this but, now we are splitting hairs of what is already an amazing beer. It’s like the first season of Small Wonder, just amazing on its own, stop trying to figure out how the robot works already.

T: Again, just outrageously good. Being from the west coast it is difficult to admit absolute defeat but the tag team of this masterpiece with Rare BCBS must make me raise the white flag on imperial stouts. It has such a deep taste to it with a ton of complexity to it. This is chocolate robitussin with a heavy yoohoo coating and hot alcoholic balance on the front. The sweet lingers a bit and the smoky and coffee notes go to work and dry out the back sections of your mouth, which would piss you off if you didn’t see the interplay of how well it works together. It’s a simple dynamic of, drink, coating, swallow, want more, drink more. Again, this is very drinkable and may crack out of the imperial stout cloistering for warmer climate drinking. Some things are just delicious enough on their own to defy pigeonholing.

M: this is exxon mobil in a glass, perfect for sipping because a little bit goes a long way, you put the glass down for a few moments and joy representatives are still within your gumline cleaning seals and waiting for the smoke and coffee notes to clear. Drink it in the morning and taste it all day. Overall a fantastic stout and the only contender to really put an even challenge up against the abyss and perhaps even defeating it, wish I had more test data to contrast. BOTTOMS UP BOTTOMS UP A couple bottles of this simply is not enough.

D: this is its roughest area as it is so aggressive so filling so hectoring in approach you have a hard time welcoming it for long periods, it kicks your mouth all over the room like a spaghetti western brawl and when the 12oz is done you are cast through swinging double doors and brush the coffee notes off of your chest, but you do want more. You want to slide this KBS across an old tymie piano simply because the fight itself is so enjoyable.

Narrative: Claire Murkmuggins didn’t mind the delta. Shoot, half her family couldn’t tell you the way rightside out of the delta. In fact, she kinda liked its murkiness, the way the cool silt ran through her toes when she was fishing for crawdads. The deep black nights where the bayou water looked like shimmering oil, ignited by the moonlight. I mean sure, she liked all that just fine, but what she really aspired to do, I mean, someday of course, Claire wanted to take over the family Chocolate Milk dairy. She grew tired of harvesting coffee beans all day with all the youngins, she had that dark capitalism spirit and she wanted in on that chocolate empire. Sometimes at night she’d sneak into the old cocoa refined and push her slender arm deep into the 70% dark chocolate and feel a secret power in its stickiness. She was refined but poised, in control, but sprightly. One day, she too would revolutionize the stodgy old chocolate milk world.