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@Hillfarmstead Double Citra, Double Down That Citra and Juicy J Gonna Pop It Like Wet Paint

It’s been a minute since we went back to Vermont to see what those boys are up to in Greensboro. Now that Citra is a household hop right next to the Ajax and the baking soda, let’s go way back and enjoy this top 100 banger with a fresh liver. This beer would previously post up with Abner and Double Galaxy and push kids around the school yard, showing them how hops is done. Does it still bully the fuck out of newcomer DIPAs? We shall see in today’s revew. WE SHALL SEE.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Double Citra creepin on Double Citra. Citraception.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States

Style | ABV
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: You already know how this cow eats the cabbage before you even pop that growler. You get an eggshell white foam that is just pumps out ropes and ropes of lacing like Peter North. Google him after you get home from work. The turbid borderline farmhouse look to this beer lets the consumer know two things 1) pasteurization is for playaz who dont be getting it and 2) that milky secret holds all the hops in the substrate like a male seahorse and all his spawn. The carb is indefatigable and crackles endlessly, taunting you, letting you know no one asked you to Sadies, reminding you of substandard DIPAs of the past and the messy hop IEDs of the future.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

After having a DIPA like this, other double IPAs seem like a janky ass Samus.

S: Some other breweries choose to buttress citra hops with something like oh I don’t know cascade, simcoe; you know something to give structure to the acidic citrus aspects. This beer just says fuck all that and goes ham on the citrus notes. It is like a Farmer’s Market of tangerines, mandarin oranges, clementines, and nectarines. There is a light honey at the backend and some Grand’s biscuits going on just to make old Grammy smile at this hop builder straight flexing its traps.

T: This follows the nose pretty congruently and makes you feel as though you may have tread this path before in Society and Solitude, or perhaps to a lesser extent Abner. You get a lil aserose poking its head out of its knothole with the first sign of spring, then this turns into a straight up Gushers/Fruitopia commercial of juiciness and everyone is getting mouthfucked with oranges, lemon zest, cuties, and every manner of citric acid. This isn’t a fruiter berliner sort of acidity though, it is like a TOOL fan’s room with a stick dankness of oils and a bright glow of a blacklight hop cone poster. It is bright, bold but almost menacing in the way it just pushes your palate down into a swivel chair and demands the access codes.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

Gather up your favorite off shelf DIPAs and prepare for your old heros to look like shit.

M: This is hoppy and cirtus forward to the point of being drying along the gumline. If you have ever had beers that go hard on the Tomahawk/Warrior you know what I mean but this is a little different. It isn’t exactly a resinous bully that tears up your bicuspid walls, because there is almost a sort of yogurty creaminess to it. It’s like a hop gangster who flips a coin, shoots your friend and lovingly puts its arm around your gumline. Shit starts popping off in all kinds of directions like Hmong family reunion.

D: This is almost frustratingly drinkable. The 750ml swingtop is a mockery for this beer and shouldn’t even be an offsite option. It is akin to a single song dance at a strip club when you know you are gonna be tipping up. Once it is gone, you feel like that nursing student crawling around the floor collecting the one dollar bills, dancing your way through school. The carbonation just adds to the problems because the crack and substantial coating in the creaminess lends itself to foregoing contemplation of what you are enjoying. One minute you are just contemplating going to see Pain & Gain, the next minute Double Citra is gone and you are asking to speak to a lawyer.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Oh shit you used Citra in your homebrew IPA? Man time to enter that at GABF, girls will love you.

Narrative: Angus T. Jones was sick of this shit. He walked around the backlot and bit into a ripe tangerine and looked over the spec script for the 14th season. Two and a Half Men wouldn’t be the same without the half man, now almost two decades old. “Get my agent on the phone, I am sick of this fucking nonsense,” Angus called out to an associate producer and cast a Newport onto the pavement. At first things were sweet, when he was younger he was content with mediocrity, but this was too much. “Another fucking episode about me not fitting in at school? I am 19 fucking years old. The writers need to get their shit together!” he screamed into the DP’s voicemail. In the beginning it was easy to forget all of the mediocrity, which folded into itself like the membranes on a mitochondria. However the acidity had been punched up, his sticky distemper was affecting Ashton Kutcher and other serious artists on the set. “How about this, my character goes to the fucking Army? Ok? Or, I dont know, get an alien or an adopted kid. Do what shitty shows do when they become worse and worse to the point that Nascar fans wont watch them anymore. Yes, yes I did see the final season of Family Matters, do that shit,” he called into his iPhone 5 while texting one of the hot skeezies on iCarly. He was more acidic than he was deep, but he was more profound than others in his position. Angus Jones was an acerbic asshole that people could never seem to get enough of.

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Kern Brewing Citra Double IPA, Finally: THE UNASSAILABLE COMETH.

I have danced around this several times, lithely referenced it in almost every DIPA and IPA review, now it is time to cut the shit: TIME TO REVIEW CITRA. I will say this, this beer is in my top 3 favorite Double IPAs of all time, if not my absolute favorite. Enough prestroking, let’s get down to business in today’s review: FUCKING CITRA TIME. FCT. 9:34 a.m.

God damnit. Just looking at these pictures makes me PINE for the next release, HOPFULLY it will be soon.

Oh shit, bonus pic from the newest batch, BONUSES.

Kern River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 8.00% ABV

A: God damn this is a beautiful beer, it is mildly turbid at first pour, subsides into a radioactive hue that burns the eyes and nostrils and finally the rage liquifies into a palpable form. The lacing is huge and the frothy head presents cloud strata to rest your pocketwatch upon. Shit gets classy real quick.

“MY LIFE FOR KERNVI- line?”
“Aiur…the line is Aiur”
“MY LIFE FOR KERN CITRA!”
“CUT! damnit.”

S: This is the purest, most perfect olfactory assault that a DIPA has ever presented: in order of appearance: kiwi, mango, pineapple, tangelo, orange peel, and finally tangerine. This beer reeks of a Salvadoreno’s hands. It smells like fruit carts in downtown LA and it sticky with hop oils in the brightest way possible.

T: This is a delayed dirty bomb of hop oils and sticky tart oils. In hurt locker a car detonates and this would be lemon rind, oranges, grapefruit, pineapple, and an mild hint of grass clipping that rip through your face. This is best enjoyed fresh but I have drank a total of say, 20 bombers of this, at various ages, and it is always amazing. The beer evolves like a hop sensai and teaches you as your palate evolves. I have waxed off at every single release and the pints of Citra that they sell for $5 at the brewery are downright offensive to the general beer industry if for no other reason that this beer slays indiscriminately like a hop Kratos.

I WANT CITRA ALL YEAR LONG. I will drive the distance. Despite all of my rage, etcetera.

M: The mouthfeel is watery thin and imparts the deep tropical fruit aspect kicks your throat and hides the alcohol without a single hint of the ABV. In renaissance times wine was more pure than still water and, regardless of our advances, I want to drink this at every meal. The vegetal aspect is tame and ratcheted to a very mild dryness that makes this almost completely perfect for the style. I cannot wait for the next release.

D: This is insanely drinkable. I have to drive over 320 miles to the brewery when this is released and each time my bottles last, what, 14 days? It is the bagel bites of the DIPA world, when Citra is in some water you can drink Citra any time. I hate HATE the limited availability of this as I could retire from the beer review game if this was always available, but the sunny days wouldn’t be as bright without the days full of malty east coast DIPAs. True story.

This beer hits the incredible upper atmosphere of beers and still presents a cuddly amiable nature, without being offputting.

Oh and by the way, I did a shootout with Heady Topper and Double Sunshine, all fresh, this beer won. To avoid bias, I wont rank them but this is an amazing beer, hands down.

Narrative: After years of toiling in the remote Sequoias, Kyle had finally accomplished his dream: an advanced cyborg that ran exclusively on tropical fruit juice. At present it was being ran by a conglomerate Starburst fruit battery, but the built in juicer in the fuselage made the companion more powerful with each inundation. “WAKE UP CITRITRON!” Kyle clapped demonstratively and the powerful beast pulled itself to a bipedal position. Its glowing orange eyes evidenced a deep artistry and hateful power, acid and oil running through its veins. “INPUT COMMAND TROPICAL MASTER:/” Citrutron requested. Kyle waved his hands “don’t call me tropical master, I am from Lodi, alright, there have been some Budweiser fans hanging out at the local Pizza pl-” “AFFIRMATIVE I WILL MELT THEIR FACES” Kyle staggered backwards, “NO! God damnit Citrutron, you can’t kill anybody” “WHY” “You just can’t!” “WHY” “You just cant.” Kyle wiped the mango juice from his hands and tossed the rag into a bucket of papaya extract. “Listen Citrutron, I built you to show the inherent power of citrus and refreshment, GO TO THE PIZZA BARN, destroy their adjunct lagers, SHOW THEM THE TRUE POWER OF YOUR HOP BATTERY!” Citrutron entered battle mode and his scorching hot alpha oil cannons raised like a deep carapace from his shoulders “AFFIRMATIVE.” Kyle wiped a juicy tear from his eye as his creation covered the local 16 year olds of Kernville in sticky bitter hop oils. “GODSPEED CITRUTRON!”

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The Alchemist Heady Topper Double IPA, Get Ready to Get Heady

Alright, another top 100 ranked beer, well top 15 to be exact, and arguably the best Double IPA in existence (grumblegrumbleCitragrumbleEphraim)

Let’s get this show on the road.

Gettin some Heady, Get, gettin some Heady. Ba dum tish.

Heady Topper, Double IPA, The Alchemist, 8% abv

A: This beer has a hazy orange glow to it with great carbonation and a radiance that looks like when you cut a unicorn open. It has a huge sticky head to it that subsides gradually.

This beer recognizes how sick of a bro I am and doesn't bother me. It's like we friends.

S: This has a single smell with limited complexity, overwhelming grapefruit and acidity. This is probably the closest that a Double IPA has come to smelling like a gueuze. Very fruity and acerbic on the nose.

T: This is a one trick pony, but it is a pretty bad ass trick: it plants, harvests, and juices an entire acre of grapefruit trees in your mouth, in a single drink. This isn’t an herbal or hop overload, it is just orange juice and grape fruit puree. It tastes like fruit juice more than Citra does. This beer is better cold for this very reason. This is a world class beer and it is incredibly distinctive. The juiciness doesn’t impart any bitterness that lingers.

This beer is just incredibly refreshing, like watching a baby hippo get all upset. Ahhhh.

M: The mouthfeel isn’t too overwhelming, but just malty enough to carry the huge flavor of this beer. It washes away with a crisp finish. This is a serious contender against Citra and Ephraim.

D: This has an incredible drink ability that is perfect from the can. I wonder how the hops hold up over time but this beer has a lot to offer and can likely stand the test of time. Once again, all of the beers that you want to pour into a spoon and boil in an addictive spree, are not available in California. All of the incredibly drinkable beers remain just out of reach.

I guess I could search for another, better, double IPA, but, I fold.

Narrative: It wasn’t an easy life for Paradisi Juicio, living in Barbados and all. For years and years, he was overlooked, mistaken for his cousin Pampelo Tangelini, and over shadowed by the ever-popular Shaddock boys, with their rough handsome demeanors. “WELL MAYBE IF YOU JUST LISTENED TO ME I WOULDN’T HAVE TO YELL AT YOU ALL THE TIME!!!” Paradisi boomed, wiping sticky acerbic sweat from his brow. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID. TELL ME WHAT I SAID!” he boomed, his face turning into a bitter grimace. It felt as though, his friends had been picked off one by one recently, ground into the earth, so to speak. People just didn’t care for his kind like they used to. The ruby red complexion of his wife, Grappa Juicio, became sullen, “I just don’t think that we can go on like this, what with the low carb diets and, people replacing us left and right, I just don’t know where we fit into this crazy mixed up world.” As she finished her sentence, the double doors swung open and the oppressive land lord came striding in. “Mr. Galaxy, I didn’t know you were-” “Oh sure, didn’t figure I would come this soon, oust your and your outdated fruit kind? Listen up you degenerate citrites, the hops run this town now, ain’t no body interested in some bitter old juice anymore. Not when me and my hop boys got something to say about it!” Grappa weeped acidic bitter tears and dreamed for the days when someone would enjoy her for her sweet disposition and not some false citrus experience.