Tag Archives: cherry beer

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Cigar City/Mikkeller Life is Like, A Cherry Cordial Trainwreck of Saccharine Proportions

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I think I have finally figured the modern beer community out: shitty tastings have generated the worst scores/reviews ever.  First Untappd introduced this single digit system for beta casuals to quickly log their 1 ounce pours, then BeerAdvocate, never slow to the development game, added a single digit feature like 5 years later.  You see these photos of 71 bottles at a share, and 19 redfaced greasy dudes, one sad asian girlfriend, and wonder “what the fuck are these people even doing?”  The end result is the fanfare and celebration of today’s undrinkable glucose leviathan.  Sure if you have a 2 ounce pour, the relentlessly sweet and aggro beer will stick out and you can quickly drop a “5” on an unbalanced monster before moving on to a BORING NOT EVEN SOUR saison, “3.5.”  In this format of increasingly rare beers and tickers who need to supplement their self esteem with honorary pours, of course you will need a cadre of dumbshits to land all these bottles, and they will all open them on the same day and split them like fractals into ever infinitesimal bits.

Today’s beer is perfect for the emerging community.

This beer is a perfect 100/100 on BA. It is flawless to those people.

This beer is a perfect 100/100 on BA. It is flawless to those people.

Cigar City, Flerida

15% abv milk sweet stout with confectioner’s sugar and Dr. Pepper soda syrup added

A:  Ok so it’s a 15% milk stout, so we get those deep black tones and beautiful beige foam capping things off.  You get streaky lacing and it is admittedly a very pretty beer.  It doesn’t stain the shit out of your glass like Huna or Abyss and things seem pretty okay…for now.

everything seems okay at first

everything seems okay at first

S: WAIT ONE SECOND, I think someone swiped my bottle of BCBS and dumped a few capfuls of cherry Nyquil into it.  There’s sticky mexican chocolate from the Panaderia and then this intense red life savers, sucrets, cherry cordial, a sort of port sherry meets Nestle Quik with a 5 hour boil.  The whole thing wraps up with a sort of black patent malt sharpie undercurrent that is Mikkeller’s own panache and spin on a milk stout pumped with Mako straight from Shinra.

T:  Oh god, the nightmares just keep intensifying and the cherry trees from Oz molest me relentlessly.  This has an incredible burst of melted fruit roll up, cadburry creme eggs, cherry gushers, and waves upon waves of hefty Betty Crocker frosting.  It’s like when you finish cooling stout wort and dip your finger in and taste it, then you mix that with a Roy Rodgers.  Grenadine notes are on full pump, like they made this chocolate Tyrant with one huge cherry tree for an arm and only Umbrella Corp could engineer such a behemoth to be released upon the public.  Your mouth is a Racoon City left in chocolatey shambles.

2 many cherries: 2 much feels

2 many cherries: 2 much feels

M:  This isn’t as thick as some other Cigar City offerings and that almost makes it even worse because at least with a massive heft it could usher away some of the sickening cherry notes.  If you have ever left a cherry Home Run Pie in your backpack you will know these feels.  It isn’t fusel at 15% and feels integrated if not for the completely distracting domestic violence taking place in your sweet zones.  This makes Cherry Rye seem reasonable by contrast and Cherry Rye was already pushing the envelope in trifling levels.

I understand how someone might thing this is passable in small doses, why should that be a valid context? Y THO.

I understand how someone might think this is passable in small doses, why should that be a valid context? Y THO.

D:  While not as completely vile as one of the WACKY barrel aged darklord offerings, it is pretty damn similar in that regard.  I drank this whole thing by myself and watched Samsara, contemplating my own destruction and integration back into the nothingness.  All that would remain of my doughy frame would be immutable red 5 and chains of C6H12o6 pumping into space.  It is really not enjoyable and, perhaps in the new community of stupid shits with FlickR or self aggrandizing through liquid mediums, this may work.  If you gave me 3 ounce of this I might just power through it and not look back but, an entire 750ml feels like a cold punchline executed upon the consumer.  Maybe Mikkeller is just Andy Kaufmanning the fuck out of the beer community and giving high fives back in Denmark, ever contemplating what else the Americans will subject themselves to.  Maybe that.

That feel when you watch the last sip cascade down the liter mug and you know it is over.

That feel when you watch the last sip cascade down the liter mug and you know it is over.

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1996 Rodenbach Alexander, Keeping Teenagers in the Cellar and Exploiting them Years Later

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Let’s just get this out of the way: this is the best Flanders Red that I have ever had. There I said it. Rodenbach Caracterie Rouge was fucking amazing. And Teeeeechnically Oude Tart with Cherries isn’t a Reeealll flanders, right? Even with qualifiers, this is the fucking best flanders out there. Even with close to two decades on this bad bitch it still wilds out, hair in corn rows, shopping at Charlotte Russe not giving a fuck.

This used to be on the white whale list but SpeedwaleJim in his infinite wisdom decide that T25 was more sought than this fucking incredible blast from the past. Go figure.

This teenager is dope because he doesn't listen to One Direction bullshit.

This teenager is dope because he doesn’t listen to One Direction bullshit.

Brouwerij Rodenbach N.V. visit their website
Belgium
Flanders Red Ale | 5.00% ABV

A: This is class flanders, flandiddidly for sheeze. Popping those ::sigh”” robey tones are like that magical moment when the bills cascade above the laquered floor and the exotic dancer elects to clap those red bottoms. Tickers go hard for those red bottoms. With 17 years on this bitch, still foam, still cream, still cling, still putting commas in the bank. I don’t know what else you could really want when you see shit like this standing tall doing 15 to life still not getting shanked. Fucking beautiful beer, not muddy, not faded on that oxidation tip, but you could crush up that oxy and let Alexander work his 8oz magic.

This beer is a great listener.

This beer is a great listener.

S: God damn this is straight cherries on cherries, even my cherries got cherries. This is maraschino at first but then evolves into an acidic flame and screams like Bieber fans. There is oak, a light dryness, a tangy sweetness like Fruit by the Foot, some red 5 pimpin, earthy and a tad splash of vinegar notes but nothing off-putting. Shirley temple for days on that Littlest Rebel mix. Drop your glow sticks and tongue kiss that Honduran chick rolling hard on molly eating those cherry jolly ranchers, get on that Alexander game.

Dropping holy judgment.

Dropping holy judgment.

T: This is phenomenal in the way it balances a legit cherry sweetness without being sucrets, and a tartness without being an overpowered acid bomb. This wouldn’t talk to the cops, take the charge and still take the years for you holding up hard with the cherries in tow. The oak is legit, it is a bit dry but also has that great tannic presence to round shit out with another level of complexity like a C plot in a Family Matters episode. Some 3J shit.

M: This is sticky but lightly dry at the same time, the cherry is RIP straight rest in pussy. For this many years, it is insane that it has held up this well and the carb is a lil Crystal Geyser crackle like sparkling water that keeps delivering after all this time. Rodenbach keeps that AK on the nightstand shooting out with modern day Flanders letting shells drop. There is a finishing creaminess that coats the back with gentle bubbles like jacuzzi’s at Coachella.

D: This is insuling. How drinkable was this fucking 25cl white wale? I can’t even begin to address this. My erection was visible throughout drinking this bottle, the dogs present were uncomfortable. This has cherries, oak, splishy splashy juciness and keeps you wanting more. I can’t think of an analog to it, which should make sense given its age and pedigree. Again, seek it out but do us all a favor and put your Cherry Rye shit away, the real men are talking.

Better ask someone.

Better ask someone.

Narrative: She sat there day after day, painting landscapes in the Garden at Giverny. Her flowing red gown seemed ill at east in the summer breeze, yet inviting. Each day you would feign the pretence to visit the shores of the recending lakeline, prod about in the muck while wondering what the glowing red countenance had to offer. The air was redolent with bluebell that fateful day you crushed the poppy flowers and closed the distance. So sweet in demeanour you introduced yourself, and were treated to a laundry list of compound curse words that would make a Press Gang blush. So sweet in appearances and introduction, you could take your new baroness anywhere, to the Salons, to the racetrack, to Tinpenny alley to bet on cockfights. She was your patient, yet offensive muse. She likened your grandmother’s face to pachyderm ankles, but you dont care, you love the sweet and the sour that she presents. Your calm demeanor is not enough to introduce yourself: YOU NEED A BALLER ASS MATERIA. You need materia hidden in snow for years, aged to perfection. That smug french asshole, we will see how she feels after you summor the raw power of ALEXANDER.

25 hour tutorial? fuck you.

25 hour tutorial? fuck you.

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@thebruery Griffon Bruxellois, Adorable Toy Breeds and Banging Tart Cherries

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This beer initially caused a row amongst the land owning barons in the Hoarders Society. The upper class magnates received the opportunity to buy two of these awesome bottles but then THE REGULAR ASS RESERVE SOCIETY MORELOCKS GOT TO BUY A SINGLE BOTTLE. Man that must be what it feels like to watch Firestone Walker release Parabola to all the mealy mouthed masses, them enjoying world class BA stouts without even trading. But in all SRS, this beer is damn good and if you were lucky enough to grab one of these bottles, your cherry has already been popped, leaking all sour on the entryway rug.

OH SHIT INTENTIONALLY ACCIDENTAL HOARDERS CARD CAMEO. like anyone gives a fuck.

OH SHIT INTENTIONALLY ACCIDENTAL HOARDERS CARD CAMEO. like anyone gives a fuck.

The Bruery
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.10% ABV

A: This is not as “dark” as I was expecting from the description, and it isn’t exactly as flat as the sad panda marketing description set forth. If you were in Hoarders, this was the email you got describing it:

We debuted Griffon Bruxellois late in 2012 at a few of our events and it was quite a hit. This dark, sour ale was aged in oak barrels on cherries, giving it an incredible fruit flavor, balanced by the roasted malt and lactic tartness. We must admit, this bottle-conditioned beer didn’t turn out quite as carbonated as we were hoping for, but it is still an incredible beer, 100% worthy of our high standards to be sold, served, shared and enjoyed!

So I was like “oh so like Otiose but flat? Carmen on cherries?” boy was I fucking wrong, this has an amazing deep crimson tone that transitions into fuscia, magenta, Lisa Frank binder pinks and….god damnit…I don’t even want to say it

robey tones.

embrace the delcious cherry hugs, no matter how tart and scratchy they may be

embrace the delcious cherry hugs, no matter how tart and scratchy they may be

S: This has an incredible blast of lactic fruit roll ups, Gushers juice, tart cherry skins, red Fun Dip dust, and a raspberry finish to it. The acidity is there but complimented by a robust fruit profile. Again, this beer exceeded expectations, one of the best Bruery sours that I have had since Filmishmish.

T: This delivers on complexity beyond simple acidity, you get this round tartness at the outset like shocktarts, no acetic vinegar aspects to speak of, a deep dryness on the gumline, raspberry, black cherry, fruit by the foot, tropical skittles, and uncut pom juice, that white brick raw moving hard in the streets. This is kinda like if you cut Sch. Kriek with a more substantial sour like Consecration, really well done and balanced for days.

Bust this out at a bottle share, people be like

Bust this out at a bottle share, people be like

M: This is a bit too dry in some aspects because it is incredibly tart, but if it did not have that aspect it would likely be too sweet from the nice fruit profile so I feel that this is a happy medium that has a tannic finish like a full bodied merlot. Drink water with this and hope those old HSV sores dont be blasting open. wait wut.

D: This is like in movies when a cop is chasing a criminal and he is always like tipping over trashcans and shit, like that is a real obstacle come on. This beer is worth the chase and incredibly drinkable but the dryness and acidity is tossing these tiny obstacles in your way slowing you down slightly from going into 750ml+ levels, but this is a beer that is incredibly easy to take down solo if you have some tums and some Smart Water handy. I wish the allocation was bigger on this so I could freeze it or do some dumb shit, but srs, nicely done beer.

Try to take down a couple bottles of this, be a hero.

Try to take down a couple bottles of this, be a hero.

Narrative: It was not a lively existence sitting in a Chicago highrise apartment all day long. Brixie received the same general care and attention that other dogs in the area received, daily walks, beard combing, and strolls through gentrified areas for defecation. Somehow Brixie felt that she was missing out on something more. The twinge of her heritage pounded in her hindquarters and she constantly looked east over Lake Michigan and wondered just what was happening in Brussels. She felt like an exemplary demonstration of her heritage, yet some short sighted assholes living in a Corn Cob shaped building might fault her for not BEING FROM BELGIUM. It was their loss, her deep amber coat and tart disposition made her a favorite at all of the AKC competitions. Even the most stringent hater had to respect a Griffon with such poise and depth, that did not even shit on the hardwood floors. Brixie was worthy of veneration, no matter what some narrowminded shit head from the 312 area code might think.

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Dark Horse Three Guys Off the Scale SOUR VERSION, Apparently if you ruin beer, you can just call it SOUR VERSION

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Let’s clear the air right away: I love bourbon barrel plead the 5th. It is one of my favorite BB stouts out there, without qualification. That being said, there have been a series of questionable ass releases from those metal brewers up in depressing ass Norway Michigan. First, Fore Stout was a weird thin smokey mess. Then Borubon Barrel Mosnter 29 was somehow thinner, boozier, yet with a lower ABV than regular Monster 29 and was totally imbalanced. After I opened this actual monster, I figured I would work Dark Horse over with a bicycle chain for a bit in today’s review

BEAUTY CONTEST WINNER: DO NOT PASS GO.

BEAUTY CONTEST WINNER: DO NOT PASS GO.

Dark Horse Brewing Company
Michigan, United States

Style | ABV
American Barleywine | 15.00% ABV (? I guess)
The bottle didn’t say, so I just assumed that the infected mess was similar in attenuation/bugs/vermin levels.

A: Beauty contest winrar alert: a beer this is. Look at that sloppy merlot mess. Are you drinking a 1500 bottle waxed release because the dead flat pour looks like you are enjoying some Kendal Jackson Merlot at an Applebees. No bubbles at all, it’s like a pour straight from a carboy, as lackluster as that dumbass new Jason Bateman movie, and equally predictable. The sheeting is clear and intense, with no residual sugars to balance out this imbalaced ass scale. And look at that janky ass label, was this approved? It looks like some homebrewer printed that shit off a HP Bubblejet printer, I had it in my fridge for like 4 days and the condensation already had that ink running like mascara on a fat girl’s face after prom.

If this is a sign of sours and old ales to come, I am out.

If this is a sign of sours and old ales to come, I am out.

S: Well I hope you like red apple vinegar, now mix in with your Melange 3. That is exactly what is going on here, there is this fusel cherry jolly rancher with a splash of a musky cabernet. It honestly reminds me of “accidentally” soured home brews where it straddles both genres so hard that it barely qualifies as either a wild or an old ale. Leave a fruit by the foot in a locker for a week, then enjoy it, you have just had Three Guys off the Scale, you won the beer game.

T: The rabbit hole goes deeper, take that classic caramel and nice roast from Hair of the Dog Adam, now go ahead and dump some acrimonious vinegar into it, but don’t even blend it to taste, just Bobby Flay that shit from shoulder height. The finish is intensely dry and I don’t know if it is oak or if it just busted open HSV sores in my mouth that I didn’t even know were there. It finishes with a taste I can only describe as “currency.” One time when I was a kid I clutched a bunch of dimes and went to the store and bought some candy, so sweaty ass coins and Skittles, that is basically what is going on here. Not exactly a panty dropper, even by Michigan standards, where a size 10 is literally a dime, that is top of the line.

Give your kids this beer early on, it will Uncle Donald their asses into hating beer.

Give your kids this beer early on, it will Uncle Donald their asses into hating beer.

M: This is dry, cracking, yet sickeningly fusel at the same time. The completely tepid nature doesn’t do it any favors, it just lays there and gets pounded like Ben Kingsley in Gandhi trying to get his vote on. I don’t want to pound this point home further but, there is no way this was intentionally sour, nor could it have passed the QC panel. I tasted “One” and it is a legitimate oatmeal stout, this, this is like if they left the brewing doors open and they let a bunch of disadvantaged Detroit youth try their hand at real world working times as a brewer. Then sold it.

D: On a scale from one to “call an oral surgeon” this is a Bluelady. If you don’t know what that means, you are lucky, this was incredibly difficult to finish and I even let it warm up and well, that was a mistake, this beer went HAM and was like “THIS ISN’T EVEN MY FINAL FORM!!!” and turned into a huge infected hydra, like most people’s ex-wives. I could barely get this down while watching The Room, I was like OH HAI DOGGY.

This beer is off the scale

This beer is off the scale

Narrative: Liz Wilkerson thumbed the elastic waistband of her Lane Bryant stretch pants and looked out over the desolate Michigan winter. She looked over the gazing starlets in US! Weekly and longed to be like Zooey Deschanel, wearing clothes that did not come from Fashion Bug or Tuesday Morning. She ran the tips of her fingers over the smooth fissures of her stretch marks, reminders of where she had been, and where she could not return. Life working at Michigan’s most esteemed winery was fine, for the 4 months of the year that the vines got sun, but the rest of the time she looked out upon the cold dead poplars and wondered what those tropical ass people in Kansas were up to, much less Floridians. She tried her best, but no one wanted her, at least not in her current state, she was on and off the scale, constantly mulling over her appearance, bemoaning other more beautiful girls, girls whose incisors actually made contact. She was big, sour, ungainly, and unwanted, and everyone in Flint knew it.