Tag Archives: belgium

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Is Cantillon Blabaer 2013 the Head-on Berry Collision that Complainers Like to Make it Out to Be?

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Ddb reviewed Blabby back like four years ago or some shit so we aren’t going to retread that ground in full at this juncture.

Here knock yourself out:

https://dontdrinkbeer.com/2012/02/08/cantillon-blabaer-after-an-entire-year-of-searching-i-finally-land-my-white-whale/

LOL TUMS BC ACID GUIZE GET IT #firstjokes

LOL TUMS BC ACID GUIZE GET IT #firstjokes

But what about those infamous “off” vintages? Every three years, meatsweatted cicerones will capriciously decide OH NO FUCK BRO THAT YEAR SUCKS MY HOME BREW CLUB AGREED TOO.

This happened with Flora b6, it happened with Fantasia b2, the NOTORIOUSLY SHITTY Cable Car 2010: none of this makes any sense. Nine times out of ten, the complaints hover around “BRUH it wasn’t even like as sour as I remember, making something more sour is a demonstration of true breW skillz.”

Flora b6 was a touch less sour sure, but posting ISOs specifically like “ANY FLORA BATCH EXCEPT THAT HORRIBLE BATCH FIVE THAT I KNOW IS TERRIBLE” makes no sense. Flora is still fucking delicious.

The glass upskirt is second only to placing the bottle ontop of the glass in stupid beer photography

The glass upskirt is second only to placing the bottle ontop of the glass in stupid beer photography

The greatest victim of this paradigm is tattered old Blabaer 2013. Somewhere along the line people ruled that blabaer must be X2OMG sour and intensely Smuckers and if it isn’t, then JVR really shit the bed on this one.

Blabby already exists as a trade anomaly on so many levels. It often exists as a crown jewel for a first or second year trader to “accomplish” a badge of blueberry merit, to validate their face hole. These same people toss up 8:1 offers and covetous hoarders tear them down.

Those same stupid dipshits who hoard blabaer are actively trying to trade them upwards for Pikku or an M or some shit. This will never happen for the simple reason that: everyone only needs to try Blabaer once.

That isn’t to say it isn’t good, but traders of a certain experience know to never actually drink a Blabaer when St. Lam is far easier to land and tastes better. Therefore bottles of blabaer never move downward, but they can never move upward either. They sit and malinger until someone wants to stunt hard as fuck at some brewery event and live on in infamy in UNTAPPD reviews. WOW Herbert Spencer, such legacy achieved, sociological immortality.

"BRO IF NO ONE LIKES THEM SEND TO ME 4 PROPAR DISPOSALS LOL AMIRITE"

“BRO IF NO ONE LIKES THEM SEND TO ME 4 PROPAR DISPOSALS LOL AMIRITE”

So within this climate you have two poles of raters: 1) bitter assholes who traded a ton for it and were “forced” to open it and share it with ignorant cretins and 2) unappreciative shitlords who failed time and time again to land it and now want to engage in some growing pains of iconoclasm and take poor blabby down a peg,

So yeah, if you pour 2013 Blabaer amongst 15 people it won’t be as aggro sour, it won’t be as fruity, but it is even more interesting in its musky tannic vibe. So within the scope of 1 ounce within bitter BJCP turd hammers, it will become the “bad” vintage.  It is still a phenomenal beer and one should look at groupmind “consensus” with a grain of gose.

Fire up a dare form tab and get over it. Beer itself and beer people get worse with every passing day, fading away in cellars and basements, respectively.

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Drie Fonteinen Framboos, I Was Saying Boos-Urns

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Man, saison marathon ends, then I post a couple 5/5 stellar video beer reviews over the weekend and the site becomes a hotbed for controversy. Let’s get things back on track in today’s review of 3F Framboos, AKA THE BIG BOO, aka the BOOZER, slaying white walez on the reg. On another note, since this was brewed again, it is now in some top 100 lists, so there is also that. Poppopopop watcing sea mammals drop.

If you are too busy and cant fit time in to eat fruit AND drink beer, 2 birds, 1 stone.

If you are too busy and cant fit time in to eat fruit AND drink beer, 2 birds, 1 stone.

Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 5.00% ABV

A: Look at that juicy lil wine cooler, posted up looking like a Lisa Frank binder with all the fuchsia foam and pink hues. Make me want to put tassles on my lil ladybike and stroll with a carnation in my hair. The lacing is minimal and the carbonation was as to be expect, namely cray. The whole affair is legit and even Chief Keef would agree that ladies love 1) Sosa and 2) rare raspberry lambics.

The things you have to go through to get this beer, painful, horrible things.

The things you have to go through to get this beer, painful, horrible things.

S: This is hands down the best part of this beer, it smells like freshly unrolled fruit by the foot, the inside goo within Gushers, a spring pastoral farmers market, sweet honeysuckle, hyacinth, and smashed ass raspberries. If you cant taste this beer, trade for an empty bottle and you just won half of the game AND KEPT YOUR ANUS AT ITS CURRENT DIAMETER.

T: This is fantastically refreshing and opens with a juicy profile and dry tannic raspberry skins, the puckering aspects have a great interplay with the lactic acidity from the base beer and the lingering produce meets tartness is just the refreshing beverage that you need after enrolling your kids in military school or pushing your stepmom down a flight of stairs, you know, supes refreeesh.

This sounds like an excellent idea.

This sounds like an excellent idea.

M: This is drying but not like chardonnay aspects, more of a “I just ate way too many dried fruits” sort of manner. You get this acidity but those elements are kept in check by a sweet profile from the fresh juice; sweet yet hateful like a Korean housewife.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the fruit profile quells all that guilt in your heart because you can tell yourself that it TECHNICALLY is fruit and you TECHNICALLY don’t need to go to those Court ordered AA classes, because TECHNICALLY you are a beer connoisseur and TECHNICALLY it isn’t alcoholism if you spent a lot on the bottle and call it a hobby. But srs, this is a legit beer, the only problem is that raspberry is one of the comparably “easier” styles to execute with similar results. This is unquestionably one of the best framboise that I have ever had, but at the same time Framboise de Amarosa is also very good and I would make a coherent argument that FFaC and Rose de Gambrius could toe precariously close to these levels. It just depends on if you are that type of asshole who rolls up in an Aventador and looks down upon the dude in a Gallardo. fruitbullwalez.

This is a baller ass beer for tickers with elevators up in their crib.

This is a baller ass beer for tickers with elevators up in their crib.

Narrative: The brakes of the Nissan Altima locked up and the affordable yet spacious sedan slid through the pink muck into a Mitsubishi Gallant, an equally spacious albeit less reliable midsized sedan. “What in the, COME ON!” Judy Temperton exclaimed and she got out of her car. Her white Keds slipped on the uneven goop and the air was redolent with raspberry juice. The entire I-85 was littered with crates and crates of fresh raspberries, each broken open and mangled into a deep ruby paste on the road. Red asphalt, indeed. Maria Krupky jumped out of her car and surveyed the damage. Both parties had incredibly high deductibles and, what GEICO representative would take pity on a raspberry induced accident. The two women shook their heads balefully and walked to the front of the overturned fruit truck. The smell of diesel fuel and fresh fruit almost choked them in turn. Just past the truck the women would see the cause of the accident: a completely murdered out flat black Bentley Arnage spun headfirst into a ditch. A middle aged man in a Tommy Bahama shirt was clutching frantically at his iPhone 5S with the unlimited data plan. The pangs of the idle rich made all too apparent. His bluetooth fell into a puddle of raspberry juice and he sobbed quietly, the juice mixing into his open cuts. If anything, it was hard to pity something so opulent in appointment, the teeming thirsty masses would never know that life. No, the Diamantes and Altimas would content themselves with car accidents and the taste of regular raspberries, as is the way of things.

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Fantome Saison, The Original Belgian Incorporeal Gangster Clapping Funky Stacks Like Rack City

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This was the first Fantome that I ever tried and it changed the game for me and saisons. This beer took artistic license and made it clear that old saisons aint nothin to fuck wit. Anyway, I love this brewery, their saisons open up my ghost trap and get my pK meter blasting off the charts. Just don’t cross my streams.

Glassware fail, as usual. I have been pining for a Fantome glass since back when the Fantome ghost was in a corporeal form.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Huge grapefruit juice hues, great tiny bubbles, and archipelago lacing rounds out this beer. It has a solid pineapple and orange juice hue with murkiness to it that enhances the glow. Some people complain about the inconsistent nature of this beer but every. single. bottle that I have ever had of this beer had rocked a serious ghost erection through and through.

The ghost will wreck you and embrace you like Bruce Willis in the 6th sense AT THE SAME TIME.

S: There’s huge Belgian spice, nutmeg, clove, and almost brettanomyces funkiness to it. It almost has a wet cardboard muskiness to it. A bit of tartness on the finish that makes this both complex and interesting. There’s some nice fruits like granny smith apples, white grape, and tangelo. This ghost gets all up in your faceholes.

T: Wow, this is unlike any of the other musky spicey saisons that I have previously encountered. This almost has a wild ale character to it. The initial taste is a sweet biscuity hefe taste with some honey notes, the spices kick in and give it the taste of a tart apple baked good. I love the incredible funky sour finish. It is really impressive for the style and imparts an incredible citrus note at the end. As it warms you get some white grapes and tropical fruits. I could drink this all day long and the abv is hidden like a funk ninja.

I WANT MOER THES SO BAED!

M: It has a great murkiness that expands with a funky wheat tone. The coating isn’t overly aggressive but its has a great wheat profile that expands into a biscuity chewiness. Just like all the other foamy carbonation superbikes, this Fantome imparts a huge foamy peelout that is satisfying.

D: I initially was not a huge fan of this style but I must tip my hat and admit concessions to this amazing saison. I gave this to my girlfriend and she noted that it was “pretty good” which is the equivalent of a gold star on her scale. I could give this to any, single, person and rest assured that he or she would enjoy it immensely. The universal appeal is off the scale. I am perpetually in search of Fantome gems.

Santa knows how to fucking rage it. If you have Fantomes in your fridge, you can rally so hard.

Narrative: Lakitu loved the cloud life. Day in day out, tossing refreshing spined monsters down upon the earth. “HEY THERE OLD LAKITU! STILL RUINING PEOPLE’S SHIT?” Lakitu gave a knowing nod and proceeded to throw a spiked beast from 300 feet shattering the small dry cleaning business below. Some would say “hey lakitu, why not just be a refreshing cloud, you know, water the crops and all?” Maybe for a standard refreshing cloud, but Lakitu was born with bite. His acidic temperament fueled his anger and made it rain, not unlike Yung Dro in an Atlanta strip club; notwithstanding instead of dollars it was hateful monsters showered upon the masses below. Life could be worse, you could be an asshole like that Bullet Bill.

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Fantome Magic Ghost, The Perfect Beer to Enjoy on Easter; Hereticale Statements Abound

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Errybody knows that I love Fantome. I once almost shanked some school children in Boyle Heights for a Fantome stemware glass before I realized it was really just a Fruitopia bottle. That raised even more questions as to why people in Boyle Heights were still drinking outdated ass soft drinks, alas I digress. This is an amazing beer that has been chugging along on the hype train for gosh knows how long, now I finally get to try some of this mutagen and take the Pepsi challenge.

No Easter jokes about Divine resurrection, please.

Brasserie Fantôme
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Holy hell, this is one of the most interesting beers that I have ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, look above. Aside from March 17th, when was the last time you opened a bottle and your saison was as green as Battletoad pubes? This is incredibly beautiful in every aspect, the crisp white bubbles are smaller than my business acumen and the green hue is vibrant like popping a bottle of high class ecto-cooler. I can’t get over how radiant this beer is, seemingly offputting, yet amiable at the same time. The lacing is minimal but, who cares, if you popped this out at any party, people would think you have a carbonated appletini and you’d finally strike up a conversation with that high school junior you have been eyeing for AGES.

With this beer, at first you have no idea what is going on, then you win the game.

S: There’s that Fantome ghost again, fucking things up for the better, imparting musk, hay, apple, honey sweetness, a crisp pear, some fresh honeydew, and an amazing apple note that just begs for springtime like a Parolee awaiting a Good Behavior hearing.

T: It was never made clear that the Secret of the Ooze was, but I am sure that Fantome had something to do with Tokka and Rahzar. This mutagen has a fantastic saison body to it with a light wheat aspect that is the underpinning for a light kiwi tartness and some serious green tea action. I am talking Hipsters in summer green tea, the hardcore shit. The spices don’t muddle this affair and they serve as a percussive element to the din of the core saison. If this is 8% abv, then send the kids to bed, shit is about to get ruined in your house real fast. There is zero alcohol taste in this beer nd the fruit and tea interplay almost makes this feel good for me after and equally destructive P90x orkout getting a sick swole on, deep saison pump n0x shred on the dorsi tip.

This amazing saison seems like a novelty act until it pounds the shit out mouth, left all green teethed.

M: The mouthfeel is like a frothy waterpark in some hot inland city. It is exciting, foamy, mildly remniscience of a septic element, but ultimately all the pre-teen piss in your mouth can’t ruin the experience, the beer I mean. It washes away clean with an herbal aspect that lingers longingly like that girl you shouldn’t have made out with in the first place but she works at GNC so you still get sick deals on metabolic enhancers. That sort of clinging. Mutual love predicated on usury.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, and I mean that in the scope of the other already vaporous Fantome beers, not beers at large. I know a beer is good when I start contemplating what massive whales (TSHYEAH RIGHT) that I have to obtain more bottles of this. Ultimately no one wants my tawdry ass wares so this may be the last time that I get to taste the sweet succor of this magic ghost. However, seek this out if you are in a state not inundated with beer lovers that swoop up all my sexy ghosts. Shit is PHANTASMTIC.

You know what this would pair well with? Arby's. You know why? Because this beer would taste amazing with damn near any solid food. Even Gamer Grub.

Narrative: “Yeah, here she is, the old Barrow’s Theater, not much to look at but, hey with a little spit and elbow grease, you might be able to make your horticulture echinacea dreams come true,” boomed the real estate salesperson in the interior of the badly charred left veranda. Andrew and Summer surveyed the premises with the utmost acuity, noting the burned Rococo banisters, the singed velvet curtains, each a reminder of that tragic day. “So uh, exactly how many Arcade Fire fans died on that fateful day?” Andrew interjected, setting the salesperson to unease. “Well no one remembers that hardly, I mean, who even listens to Arcade Fire anymore, right?” He was avoiding the question and Summer knew it. There was the faint lingering smell of burnt Toms shoes and Burt’s Bees products in the air. A light breeze tickled the fairtrade crystal chandelier and plinked out a few notes from the hit single from Godspeed You Black Emperor, “Storm.” Andrew turned to descend the split Victorian staircase and saw a rail thin apparition standing at the foot of the vestibule. “You here for AF? Yeah, I didn’t even want to come, been into them since ’08, but, such a directed change.” Andrew’s mouth fell agape seeing the ethereal figure push his gawdy blunt cut bangs to the side of his gaunt cheeks. “I mean, the builds are solid but the reliance on flanger fills are so post-Decadedence, you know?” Andrew came here to start an echinacea farm, but he had hit the motherload of hipster ghosts.

. . .

Ultimately, Roger Venkman had no trouble disposing of the unwanted celestial interlopers and hipster ghosts proved even less valuable in death than in life, somehow. Yet, Andrew’s echinacea farm took off to a resounding success largely in part due to the soil cultures imbued with pure, incinerated vegan flesh. It was that touch of herbs and ghost that made all the difference.

FIN.

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Pannepot 2005 Grand Reserva, Because I Had So Many Amazing Memories of Nothing From 2005

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Oh well, another day and another top 100 beer, ho hum, just another day in the life of a gosh darn overseer.

This review is actually the ultra-baller 2005 Grand Reserve bottling of Pannepot, but oh well, you get the idea, ONLY MORE BALLER.

Pannepot 2005 Grand Reserva, Quad, 10% abv

A: deep chocolate brown with a slightly offwhite head that produces nice lacing. Not exceptional carbonation but it is the 2005 batch so complaints dont seem to be in order, henceforth, the beggars become the choosers.

I wasn't a huge fan of quads but, after you have some top tier shit, you want to catch em all.

S: This seems to be its weakest trait with the anticipated huge dark fruit bouquet being rather muted, more of just a general sweetness without pronounced notes, it’s like when I tried to learn Clarinet, you know the greatness was there, the notes were just a little fucked up.

T: The smell does not indicate the incredibly rich profile of this beer, deep roasted almond notes, burnt currant, s;ightly boozy character with minimal heat that is displaced by a nice finishing sweetness. The taste more than makes up for any other shortcomings, it’s a rich kiss from uncle quad and there’s serious boozy wincest.

I know I am experiencing something amazing but at the same time, I can't help but feel like a total piece of shit for not sharing.

M: the mouthfeel lingers for just enough time, but leaves you wanting more, like each song in the first 2 Ramones albums. The coating is just long enough to make an impression, but not long enough to be overwhelming. As far as quads go, this is pretty light on the maltiness and I think given the character of the fruit notes, it is better as a result

D: Most quads wear out their welcome either due to overpowering booziness or an expansive maltiness that takes over your palate and stomach like japanese kudzu. this is a great beer that you could substitute for any beer in its class and people would welcome the complex sweet notes and high abv. Give this to any Newcastle drinker and bankrupt your friends overnight.

Struise are in Europe but I pretty much imagine shit is popping off like this after hours

Narrative: This was easily the worst High School Reunion that Jacob mellors had ever been to, and he had seen his fair share. His obsession of crashing High School Reunions started simple enough, play the role of the muted Magic the Gathering player, the forgotten 4th chair trombone, lay low. It worked like clockwork, the open bar started flowing, old enemies regailing each other with carrer conquest exploits, soon Jacob, soon. His latent abilities went far beyond the scope of the pedestrian masses that he regailed. At the strike of each gala, 3 hours in, he would emerge as the forgotten socialite besting the former nerds in volairean wit, intimidating the portly former jocks with a panache and bravado that oozed confidence. It was this latent power that fed him at night, the knowledge that his unknown ability was his greatest asset. However, he could not drink so much that night as it was mid-november and class reunion season was in full swing.