If you are surprised that we love barleywines over at DDB, maybe you have been reading all of the weak penis hoppy reviews. Maybe you need to pay attention and stop reading Marie Claire magazine. Who knows, but irregardlessly, BA Barleywines are as dank as that oily redhair. Today’s offshelf baller does not get nearly the love that it deserves. For all the ball breaking that I give Midwest kids, this beer is consistently overlooked and even still lurks on the shelves despite being damn near better than King Henry. I said it. Ruminate on that shit 2012’ers and clean the cream out of your jeans.
Let’s get institutionalized. Alliwantedwasapepsijustonepepsi.
Revolution Brewing Company
Illinois, United States
American Barleywine | 13.00% ABV
A strong ale to warm your insides in the dead of winter. Deep aromas and flavors of dark stone fruits, bourbon, molasses, toasted coconut and vanilla come in waves.
A: This is a malty affair but has this crispness and radiance to the center like a garnet with no clouds in them stones. The carb is like them soapy foamy carwashes where you know its for a church charity but like, seriously why is she wearing that- you know? The cling is minimal because the alcohol sheeting comes through and zambonies the glass keeping things nice and clean, no skate divets up in this mix.
S: This is meant to be savored in a rocking chair, telling younger generations about how when you were younger video games came on “cartridges” and it was acceptable to look down upon IT coders. This has a wonderful plum, sticky fig, pluot, that toasted american oak char to it, all ratcheted together with boozy asscheeks clapping to that 3/4 beat. Sick drops, OH HENRY bars, then closes with them mallow kisses from the alcohol waft. Get ready for complete labiachins to come out and complain about OMG so hawtttt derrr needs tieme to CHILL becase 13% needs to DRINK MORE EASIER. Get the fuck out of here. I was born into the high abv game, you merely adopted it. These are the same fucking sybian riders who open at 16.5% abv Pugachev’s and add this incredible insight that OH SHIT A BOTTLE OF BEER WITH MORE ALCOHOL THAN MALIBU RUM IS HOT. Go back to Pi Phi and leave the adults to their beverages.
T: This carries on the foregoing but really delivers harder on that sweeeeet 4 Roses aspect, with a malty middle that isn’t substantially coating but keeps the leather reins in hand enough to keep the booze in check. There’s them sticky toasted caramel notes and a finish that tastes like a well-crafted old fashioned. The whole affair is fucking fantastic, you just wanna tuck a lil dollar in that oak g string and tell SJ to keep them CLACKCLACKS coming. If you don’t know about that clack clack, you prolly a weak ass ticker not sitting at the tip bar, just showing up to tastings with FW anniversary beers like a fucking barnacle. This is fantastic, don’t share it, drink it alone, fuck everyone else all you need is BA Barleywines and ICO.
M: This is surprisingly thin and serves to give the bourbon/whiskey character ample stage to sally across. This beer was meant for the stage, not the closet. The mellow carb serves to get this angry heft across, like when a beer be having them sick lats, stability malts, not aesthetic just straight functional power. This beer is not prone to injury because it protects the core with deep boozy maltiness that washes clean.
D: This is sippable in excess. You CAN put away an entire bottle of this, put on George Straight and have people just assume you are racist when they smell your breath. However, the biggest drawback is the thing that contributes so much to its power, that abv adds complexity and stern flex to what would otherwise be approachable like Sebago or Naked Evil, things in that realm of drinkability. You know when BANE pumps that green shit and gets crazy swole? This is like that, except its a completely subjective swole and you will wake up with bruises and hella handstamps wondering where you went last night. What is AMZCC ATM WITHDRAWL $500.00 anyway? One of those nights.
Narrative: Clay Jaspers never skipped leg day. In fact, all he ever ran was leg day. Clay’s arms had modest power, but it wasn’t about showy displays for Mr. Jaspers. His deceptive frame went unappreciated largely by his colleagues at Prism Insurance Company. During company audits he could help move box files with the stability of a deep squat and a core that co-employees could count on. No one would assume that he could run a 4.4 40, but he wasn’t a showoff. He would do file reviews with a nice bottle of Bulleit in his desk and do claim reports in a deep squat. It was that secret power that he his under those Express Chino pants, no one needs to know that he could kick a hole in the side of a county fair pumpkin. His power was his hubris, a quiet power pounding in his quads, fueled by bourbon. One time when he went out on the town, some Penn State kids got uppity and he mule-kicked one in the stomach. The communications major was hit so hard he swore that he fell off his bike that night. Legends were told of Clay Jaspers as the Betas hit their 4 foot ROOR bong, aka the Cerebro, aka Professor X’ed Out.