Well if you have been peeping the trade boards recently, you may have heard about these “Torst only bottles” of Pappy Barrel Evil Twin offerings. A few of them escaped to distro and subsequently have been fetching hilarious sums, so let’s see if the BALs are more than the sum of their staves in today’s review:
“DDB thank you for putting the hot sauce bottles in focus, follow up question, which mid-day strip club was this taken at?”
Let’s start with a base beer of which I have had consistent “meh” reactions regardless of treatment. My biggest complaint about this beer, pappy or otherwise, is that it has that Mikkeller/continental European love of black patent malt that runs unchecked so often. The base beer as a result leans dangerous close in the realm of roast, charcoal briquette, burnt toast, and borderline sharpie.
This barrel treatment however, is phenomenal. It takes a buttery power sander and smooths all of the nubs and unsightly aspects of the base beer and applies a vanilla and creme brulee lacquer that is outstanding. The real issue is that it can’t tame what this Eliza Doolittle is at heart: a cockneyed skoal dip cup spitting ruffian. In sum, it is a very good beer that is a hilarious merger of transatlanticism not unlike Death Cab for Cutie.
So the verdict: accept a pour but don’t get soaked for a Flora Coovie for this one, let your more adventurous trade partners get jumped behind the Arby’s for this BAL treatment.
This however, holy fuck: a complete masterpiece. This is not only the best beer that Evil Twin has ever made, but it enters the canon of best ba stouts ever/top DDB beers for 2015. This takes the already awesome base beer, in conjunction with the mindblowing good BA IBB, and then somehow ekes FURTHER improvement on that model.
While the standard bearer for this experience is usually BA speedway and BCBCS, this goes beyond both of those in several aspects. First, the coffee is not so dominant as to bruise the barrel character. You get mocha and the frap, with a clean roasty dryness from the treatment. The coffee melds seamlessly like spot rivets on the side of this coffee battleship.
This is something absolutely worthy of being put inside of you. The lengths are immaterial for something of this caliber, and I don’t care whether this is Westbrook or “flavor technician” Jeppemaster Flex, this is undeniably world class.
Sure, you could probably open up a Bourbon County Coffee and look out the rain-streaked window and dream of what could have been. Is that how you want to live your life: settling for the first bean to flick that came along, grinding the same predicable two plate experience ad infinitum? I didn’t think so. Buy yourself a hitachi massager and you do you.
I cringe when I see impressionable dumbfucks go apeshit over magic PERPY VERN WERNKLER BERRELS. It usually means some amorphous Buffalo Trace sourcing, or it could be third use, or the old North Carolina special: aged 7 weeks. However, in this instance, the treatment is undeniable in the notable improvement.