Tag Archives: bourbon

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Hair of the Dog, Bourbon Fred from the Wood, I Think I Am Getting a Clue, Oh Wait It is Bourbon Wood.

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Hair of the Dog releases can get out of hand. The last time Adam from the Wood was released, everyone on the trading boards lost their shit and the traders who were sitting on entire cases could not be compelled to let bottles go. Well, some time has passed, wounds have healed, and livers have regenerated. This is the often overlooked analog to Adam from the Wood, Bourbon Fred. Apparently the first release had some carb issues and it affected the ratings but I can safely say that this 2012 release is incredible and it appears that the ratings are spiking harder than a 6 man tournament. Let’s get after it:

If you see Fred up in the club, hit him with a bourbon high five.

Hair of the Dog Brewing Company / Brewery and Tasting Room
Oregon, United States
American Strong Ale | 12.00% ABV

A: This isn’t the most beautiful beer that I have ever poured, but sometimes it is inside what counts. To my amazement, this beer was actually carbonated, unlike so many other Kuhnhenn and HotD offerings. Matt was flat, Adam has been tepid, but this just bursts with excessive lacing and frothy tiny bubbles. It was like every time that I had been burned by prior offerings was amended with this jam.

At 12% abv, this will hit you out of nowhere.

S: This is as barrel as it gets, you get coconut, macaroon, vanilla, sweet heat and nice sweet pancakes smell cum de IHOP. Whenever I see trifling ass beer blogs complain about heat on a BA beer, it is like someone complaining about an escort being “too forward.” That is what you paid for, peep game. This is ready to roll and at 12% abv, things could get way more twisted.

T: This is pretty easy to summarize, the castle door drops down and some gentle maple and Werther’s original flavors enter and then HOLY SHIT BOURBON IS RIDING AN ELEPHANT. There is a harem of servants casting vanilla and sweet oak chips to the clamoring masses. The bourbon is so far forward that it is in the engine compartment. No punchlines, no riddles, I am talking white squares with a stamp in the middle.

This beer rocks crazy vanilla, but is smooth as hell. Word to your mother.

M: This has an incredible dryness but also a sticky malt that pulls from both ends like a sorority tug of war. You are up in your glass communicating with the bourbon like Michael and KITT, perfectly integrated. This leaves residual sugars lingering and nice sheeting of alcohol to think about. The 12’s up in your mouth leave that palate shaking like it got Parkinson’s Disease, but it is so damn fulfilling.

D: If you are accustomed to merking Buffalo Trace to the skull, this might be your session beer. For most people, this is too big, too sweet, too complex, and too heated to session up on, however, the 12oz single is a solid banger. If this was in a bomber you’d be forgetting to pick your kids from school, taking apart the VCR and shit.

I just want moar.

Narrative: It was hard for Malcolm Rogers to relate to the guys. They always rooted for the Big 10, what with him and his fencing hobby, he felt a bit outside the ranks. However, there was one thing that Malcolm could consistently offer that would bring even the most stalwart of opposition to its knees: “DID SOMEONE SAY TOTINOS PIZZA ROLLS?” It did not matter the class, creed, or character of his guests; once those preservative laden rolls hit the table, things were off of the hook, hinges and heezy concurrently. No one really thought much about Malcom’s job, or his background. While others traded people on their fantasy teams, he would swirl 18 year bourbon in a bucket and ruminate on habbedashery. He was too classy and refined for his own good. He made horrible fantasy draft picks based on name alone, and his antechamber smacked of Anthropologie; but they tolerated him. His sweet decadent pizza rolls wafted through the KB Home, securing his eschelon amongst the bretheren.

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Jackie O’s 2010 Bourbon Barrel Dark Apparition, If you gotta see apparitions, at least make them dark.

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Jackie O’s is the king of Ohio. There, I said it. But that is kinda like being the sexiest person at a Babylon 5 convention, it really doesn’t mean that much. Anyway, they turn out what seems like a billion “limited” ticks, such that I can’t even keep up with the factory assembly of things coming out of there, Brown Reclusive, Cab Man, Dark Oil, Apparition Aphrodite, it goes on and on. Let’s take a sample from their flagship and see if this apparition can scare the shit out of anyone.

Jackie O’s, more like Tickie O’s they make about a billion variants of this fucking beer. Add Oil of Aphrodite into the mix and that’s a cool 500 “different” beers.

Jackie O’s Pub & Brewery
Ohio, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | 10.50% ABV

A: See above, it is pretty par for the course but shanks a right directly into the water. I wasn’t expecting something that touts its obscurity to be so…non-obscure…apprehendable? It has a watery sheen to it like Czar Jack that doesn’t exactly have me Czar Jacking off, but the sheeting and frothiness is pretty inviting, I must say. There’s a huge bait and switch going on here as well, pour out a Hill Farmstead growler BAM OHIO instead of Vermont. Quite the rickroll.

Rare bourbon barrel stouts? Why yes, I am interested, go on…

S: The smell has some bourbon oak, sticky vanilla like a macaroon that’s light on the coconut, nice sweet caramel notes and some baker’s chocolate on the back end. It would be hard to pick out of a lineup, IF THAT LINEUP WAS MADE OF WORLD CLASS STOUTS. It’s not a bad thing to be indistinct in that instance. The waft isn’t intense but it is still praiseworthy, like the last season of Blossom.WHOA.

T: The chocolate comes on first with some light sweet bourbon that follows sheepishly with a cadre of the familiar guys, albeit, in a sort of knock off toned down manner. RC Cola vanilla and oak notes, Mountain Mist bits of stone fruits, and a dash of Shasta coffee flavors round out the acidity on the backend. it isn’t bad, it just feels TOO familiar, like a cyborg stout sent to me to replace my loved one. It’s just like…where do I put…eh nevermind.

At first I didn’t know what was going on, but then things got familiar real quickly.

M: As I noted before, this is thin and slick and actually wins huge points for masking the ABV and making this an intensely drinkable stout. The 750ml that I had disappeared like I was straight up shooting apparitions with a proton pack aka my liver. The PK meter was off the charts AKA I had to urinate. It was fulfilling through and through with light coating but huge flavor.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and dangerously light in body and coating so that you glass is empty much faster than your liver would probably like. I would highly recommend this to anyone that needs to convert some non-believers into the dark side.

This beer is big and tough, but fits in with any crowd or palate. Even people from the Garden State can enjoy this gem.

Narrative: And on the seventh day he rested. No narrative today, blame it on the stouts.

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Central Waters Bourbon Barrel Barleywine, OH WAIT, STOP THE PRESSES ANOTHER AMAZING BARLEYWINE-

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But in all seriousness, I have wanted to tap that Wisconsin mana pool so hard. I am assuming they play Red/White deck for plains and mountains, but, hell maybe there are Islands and Swamps there, the fuck would I know. I love English barleywines, especially when aged in American Bourbon. However, this is that disagreeable hoppy variant, the old AMERICAN BARLEYWINE. Which I don’t dislike but, you just want the toffee and not the grapefruit, myeh, let’s begrudgingly review an amazing beer. So here we go, two of my vices coupled together in sweet harmony. Kisses all around. Also, thanks to Tmoney for this bottle, real talk.

Usually when I am looking for BB BW, I go to craigslist, not Wisconsin, but, same difference.

Central Waters Brewing Company
Wisconsin, United States

American Barleywine | 11.50% ABV

A: This has a beautiful ruby hue to it and minimal lacing, it’s like a Fast and Furious prop car that you know will tear your shit up but looks awesome at the same time. The wispy head leaves and attends to other business, but you don’t miss it after staring into that gemstone center that has a cut not unlike a 14 year old living in Wisconsin. Self mutilation jokes, we’re going there now.

Even this dude would feel like Ryan Gosling after drinking a couple of these BBW's.

S: God. Damnit. Well I guess, that needs a glaring asterix. This is, in fact, a dead on BB AMERICAN barleywine, but I am a fan of the more pale varietal with horrible dentistry. Notwithstanding, there’s a nice juniper and herbal aspect to this beer that sits on top of the bourbon waft like a platelet on top of a CELL THAT ACTUALLY CONTAINS DNA. I don’t get pissed about the hops but it’s more like, YOUR MOM SERIOUSLY HAS TO VISIT RIGHT NOW? SERIOUSLY?

T: Despite my bitchy impressions, the taste is awesome in the way that 3J is way more awesome than Richie. It is tart initially with a raisin front, nice pitted dates going on, almost a quad aspect, and you know how cutty quads get. The hops ease their way in like a barbershop quartet, but as Murder by Death opines, it is sweet Kentucky Bourbon for me. I ride out the foregoing until the bourbon shows up, wasted like Haymitch and the games are not at all hungry. I love the resonant interplay between the hops and the sticky barleywine prisoner left hostage to the hoppy abuse.

M: This has a significant amount of coating and drying at the same time that I would be a hater and knock it for but, wait a second, the mediator, delicious bourbon and butterscotch showed up as the mortar to this strange relationship. The bourbon acts as a MFT to this rocky relationship and smoothes out the jetty currents. It washes away clean and you wonder what all the fuss was about, then you realize, oh shit 11.5% and wait what, who left a Pizza Pocket in the microwave and why is the hallway all wet?

D: Alright you have a tug of war going on here between the drying hoppy aspects and the delivish bourbon that tells you to do bad things. I don’t know what ethical theory that you embrace, notwithstanding, you end up 1) drinking more than you should and 2) the small format makes you feel not even bad at all for selling your child’s Legos to obtain more Central Waters products. I am not saying an escort would accept this beer as payment but, with some artful presentation, bartering could be accomplished. It is that good and god damnit if you don’t convert some of the masses.

After a few of these bad boys, even the most outspoken Communication majors will be all up in Pan's Labyrinth.

Narrative:

I am leaving this narrative up for grabs if someone has 1) tried this beer and 2) is funnier than Kevin James. If you feel like writing a 250 word piece, go for it, see if I care, you can’t get less zero bitches, you cant owe people bitches. Spin the black circle.

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Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel Barley Wine, Michigan Doesn’t Mess Around With Cold Winters, 15.1% abv

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This beer has a huge following from all of those crazy barleywine kids that always get jazzed about anything that gets tossed in a top notch bourbon barrel. PSH. Actually the venn diagram of my life is subsumed by a good penumbra of that diagram, for those visually inclined. I LIKE THIS STYLE. I hope I like this too, seems pretty legit.

Don't adjust your monitor, this beer is flatter than the plot arch in an M. Night Shamylan movie. The twist is you wake up with no credit card.

Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel Barley Wine, Barleywine 15.1% abv, 2010 vintage

A: It looks like iced tea. That’s it. Like it seriously looks like the free drink you get at the Old Spaghetti Factory. The lacing is nominal like a hug from a stripper after cash has changed hands. It sits there tepid and sad, wondering where its mother barleywine is, longing for the warm comfort of the barrel it loved. No lacing, not jack shit.

When you fuck with the barley, you get the wine.

S: Oh well, shit. All the hating I just did comes full circle immediately after smelling this. It is brown sugar, sweet macaroon, toffee, mild clove, maple syrup and fresh waffle. It smells incredible. It is like a decadent alcoholic dessert to take in. The lackluster appearance is a complete wash at this point. Just amazing.

T: It doesn’t go as sweet as the nose would suggest and hits initially with a warming flat metallic note that quickly changes its tune into a candy bitterness like a caramel coated leaf and then warms gently into a bourbon den of iniquity. After the first few sips, it becomes apparent that this is meant to be shared, even in a 12oz format. At the end there’s a huge oakiness like that woody finish that I hate from Hair of the Dog and encountered with the 4th Dimentia. It is definitely an intentional stylistic decision and I just dont think that I am on board.

This beer reminds me of something old, angry, irascible, and hateful.

M: This has a mild slick watery coating that marches through and burns shit like General Sherman. Railroad rails are tied around trees. Nothing is spared and your antebellum palate is destroyed toe to tip. It reminds me of in Civilization where you could develop a single unit to completely leevel the entire Babylonian civilization, this is that little beer that is a nuke underneath.

D: Well, read that last paragraph and ask yourself if you would be down to put up with that. I am letting it warm and the bitter beginning with the fireball finish makes this a clip cloppy recalcitrant colt that will not be tamed. I tug at the malty horsebit but it will not be broken, this alcholic beast is a dominator.

After just 12oz of this you wont know what exactly happened, but you might like it that way.

Narrative: Jayden ground his teeth and surveyed the recess playground. “Pussies, each and every one of them, part and parcel” he noted to Jeffrey who was busy counting the Lunchables spoils. Jayden was an anomaly lab child created by a hopeful lesbian love union, the results were not as desired. Jayden grew uninhibited without the constraints of a plcental wall and was a statuesque 5′ tall at age 9 and had the cerebral capacity of a zygote fed pure synthetic nutrition. They had developed the super bully. Having two mothers fed his insecurities and his rage. It wasn’t so much the teasing from the other children, for they regarded him as a stoic golem, not to be pestered. He was upset with the draconian North Dakota laws, which forbade domestic partnerships. Bullying was his craft and vent. “OH OH OH, hey, Golding, come here one more time, your Yu Gi Oh deck, is fucking mine.” It was a troublesome existence, but he financed a civil rights group with his hateful conduct. It was the irony of a filthy hand washing a calloused hand. He flipped a salami piece into his gullet and ground it with his new permanent teeth. “Hunter is a complete fag” he quipped without the mildest sense of irony.