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

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:




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.



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.


Cascade Blueberry Wild Ale, Sometimes a Sour is So Good It Leaves Me With Blue Berries When It Is Gone

Cascade has plenty of incredible rare offerings, but let’s not just sit back and cast garlands upon Oregon and their amazing case per person law. Sure, I love sitting around like the next guy, waiting for one of the 12 bottles of this month’s rage to come my way. Oh wait, it’s just me? Sorry Oregon, just keep hanging onto your bottles, I will toss up a few Chocolate Rains for the next batch of Ruth. BEER NERDS KNOW WHAT IS HAPEN. Bottom line: Cascade is amazing and their distribution is beyond fantastic. Lazy assholes like myself can hang out online, order, and wait until the blueberry goodness just arrives on his doorstep. Shit is cray.

Murder this beer wrote scopin old ass beer drinkers hittin them with that Matlock .45

Cascade Brewing Company, Blueberry Wild Ale, 7.3% abv

A: This has an awesome light purple or a DEEP LAVENDER if you will, radiance to it. The lacing is nice and the microbubbles splash around playfully, thinking of gentler times. The note told me to leave this beer alone, but fuck all that, this beer just took a fantastic journey from Oregon, time to “bust it open and pop a picture with my phone” – Yung Joc.

Please excuse my lack of enthusia- wait what, one of my favorite breweries just made a blueberry sour? Well nevermind, fuck my reader base, they can get their ow-

S: The smell is a fantastic cascade of acidity, musk, borderline Cantillon levels of funk, and of course an awesome blueberry with a blackberry jam presence. It’s like nana made preserves and the whole neighborhood gang is invited to pal along. Oh and nana is a master brewer.

T: The taste has a sharp acidity at the outset and you get the underlying wheat beer aspect like watching your friend drive away with his hand pressed against a blackberry smeared window. The taste is fantastic and simplistic, blueberries for sal, acidity and blueberries for the bears chasing sal. Pretty simplistic really. But the Volkswagen GTI was simplistic and it got countless eurotrash guys laid, so there’s always that. The nice hit of tannins on the gumline adds a minor bit of complexity but really it is a 2 person White Stripes ensemble and keeps it grass roots through and through. Bottomline, this is a fantastic wild ale and I recommend it highly, get your messy jam sesh on.

Sometimes when I am tasting an incredible sour from Cascade I stop and realize there is another aspect and wait, what is that brett- wait no, there's a spoiler on my spoiler. The end result keeps my drag co-efficient so low.

M: The mouthfeel is as to be expected from a blonde ale base that has gone all apeshit in souring barrel treatment and bunked up with berries for months on end. You come out sweet, but secretly so tart inside. I am not saying that the blueberries raped the shit out of the blonde ale, please, this is a family blog. But before the Goof Troop activists get all nuts, I will say that the drying is minimal and the blueberries add a sweetness that makes you crave the next sip.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the sour notes don’t slow shit down. I dont even know why this isn’t an outright session sour, having less than 2 bottles of this in your cellar is pointless like an Uzi with a beam, mashing out on sours in a ‘cuzi full of steam. I ordered plenty of bottles and sure enough, I will ship plenty of these to midwest traders and then I will be a whiny bitch in 2 months about how I can’t taste this amazing beer. Boo to the fuckin hoo up in this piece.

Wait, you are a sour, with blueberries, from Oregon...
Did we just become best friends?

Narrative: “No, no please just the wash-” Rodney Blahberre opined to the car care specialists. He wondered to himself why every position had now changed itself to a new lofty title. Servers were table maintenance technicians, janitors were municipal waste engineers, Lawyers were still giant assholes, but beauticians that were failures still called themselves “stay at home wives,” which irked old Rodney. Being the empirical beast he was, Rodney laid out all the plans of a failed, boring, wife-based business: a hair and antique boutique. No one walked in with an express desire to buy a wagon wheel and obtain a shitty perm but, well, here we were at Rodney Antiquated Everything: Cuts and Huts Emporium. One day, Rodney realized that this business model, without the assistance of subservient wages, would soon capsize, he hired a series of Portugese people, whom he offensively referred to as “Porties.” The level of racism was staggering around the Cuts and Huts Emporium, particularly to those poor Iberians. After taking a brief tour concerning the failed Southern American colonies and the relics left behind, he lost interest outright. His business was in ruin and he couldn’t offload all these Mayan artifacts. Rodney popped a delicious blueberry in his mouth and left the amazing history to other highhanded sources but everyone in his tour group recognized that he had just accomplished something berrincredible.


Cantillon Blabaer. After An Entire Year of Searching, I Finally Land My White Whale

FINALLY. After an entire year of searching, countless internet posts, unsolicited mail sent to people all over the place, and Craigslist Casual Sour Encounters that went awry: I finally tried Cantillon Blabaer. This beer is rated #9 on the top 100 beers of all time and it is 2 scissoring bitches to land. This beer is made in cooperation with Jeppe from Olbuttikken in Copenhagen. Jeppe provides the blueberries for the beer,and it is brewed at Cantillon and then shipped back to Copenhagen and only sold at Olbutikken. There are only approximately 400 bottles sold each year, really fucking far away. That shit cray.

2009 vintage 750 ml with berries firing on all cylinders, tasting like escort gumline and Wild Grape Squeezits. THE WHITEST OF WALES.

Cantillon Blabaer, Fruit Lambic, 5% abv

This beer has a perfect 100 score on Beeradvocate and is one of the most sought after beers in the world. Raters gonna rate.

A: This has a murky deep ruby frothiness with a magenta head and deep plum hues. The lacing is minimal and the entire beer crackles with this acidic liveliness and it reminds me of that pit of acid that the Joker got pushed into in Batman, and it reminds me that I will probably never get to try this again. Just a bunch of Blabaerless nights listening to Jason Mraz and watching ABC Family.

With Cantillon you always think they pulled an adjunct jackmove, but no shooops here. All bugs, berries, and bitches.

S: The smell is largely acidic, acetyl, wet grass, morning rain, damp laundry, and really ripe boysenberries. I dont get the archetypical blueberry smell here but, not a single fuck could be located for comment.

T: The taste is fantastically tart and complex. At the outset there is a dry acrimonious funk that sets a nice straw and musky oeuvre that transitions into a boysenberry, tart blackberry, and really hard strawberry, the kind that pucker your face like a gushers commercial. I enjoy the smell more than the taste and it seems almost like Lou Pepe Geuze wearing a thin disguise, but the berries are a chill ass addition to what is already an incredible sour.

I tend to be overly critical with my beer reviews, but with a beer this flawless, reviews get all hard and shit.

M: This scorches and dries in that way that only Cantillon can. It would be tough to take down more than 12oz of this, but the depth of the taste is fulfilling and I enjoy how the fruits opened up as the beer warmed, LIKE YOUR MOM DOES WHEN SHE IS A LAMBIC. Sick burn.

D: How drinkable is this beer considering that it is impossible to land? Interesting question, you hateful interlocutor. But in all seriousness, I really liked this beer but I probably wont seek it out again. People want your entire cellar and a cup full of unmarked jizz for a bottle of this and my unmarked jizz simply is not for barter. I enjoy St. Lamvinus and Fou Foune more and they are (relatively?) easier to land. Again, this is all within the constraints of judging it as the best sour beer in the entire world, so take it with a GRAIN OF BLUEBERRY.

When you're expecting the best treat in the world, you're always setting yourself up for disappointment. Why you feelings.

Narrative: The bed and breakfast was a quaint cottage in rural Montana, which is essentially, redundant. The fields of lavender were verdant and moist with the tears of angels. It was the perfect place for Charles Montague to settle down and work on that UPN pilot he had been harshly instructed to complete. The premise of a family of produce canners that hit it big in the blueberry jam business seemed a bit thin, but Charles needed to air it out and hit the fields, see the shit firsthand. “Chalres, rook ova hai, broobaree brushes!” Ed Lu was the caretaker of the Bed and Breakfast and he spoke with a borderline offensive dialect that was entirely fabricated to make white people feel at home. “Yes Ed, thank you, stop, stop trying to put a blueberry in my mouth.” The pushed his hands into the bushes and communed with the tart fruit. He took a deep breath and simply couldn’t think of anything but Moesha re-runs. “DAMNIT CHARLES THIS IS THE BIGGEST THING YOU’VE EVER TACKLED, focus, or they will know if you phoned it in.” Suddenly Ed slid a yellow memo pad across the wet grass to Charles. “MY GOD, ED-” Ed Lu nodded with his offensive high ponytail and winked emphasizing “BROOBREEREES.” Charles knew that it was unorthodox to make an entire 13 episode arch based upon a reimagining of Blueberries for Sal but, THE NETWORK COULD FUCK ITSELF, this was his personal victory and it was his magnum opus.