Founder’s Backwoods Bastard, A brewery I love meets a style that I hate

I enjoy almost all of Founder’s releases, so long as no one brings up Cerise. I figured I would grind the stones of one of the most reputable breweries and review a style that is completely offputting to me for maximum lulz. If you are one of those shitstains that actually loves scotch ales, maybe you won’t empathize with today’s review, hey, even I was misguided enough to love amber ales at one point. No one is perfect.

Torani syrup be creepin, tempting me to make a vanilla variant all up in this bitch.

Founders Brewing Company
Michigan, United States
Scotch Ale / Wee Heavy | 10.20% ABV

A: dark caramel color with hues of deep blood red amber, moderatee carbonation, one finger head with light lacing. If you like the color of pennies in a coinstar machine, this beer is for you. Maybe it is just my distrust of the Wee Heavy empire, but something about this style just looks dull and unappealing to me. Shine up that armor Daedalus, show a lil scottish luster.

You go into this expecting one thing, and confusion ensues.

S: there’s an intense cherry and alcoholic sweetness, very sweet on the nose, lots of turbinado sugar with notes of caramel, no surprise here you get some bourbon, caramel sweetness, and oak dominates as this thing warms up. Again, this is certainly its own style but it makes me long for an English Barleywine or even a light old ale.

T: in the front of the beer is a slightly smoky sweetness, caramel notes, hops are understated but well done, just enough to balance out the sugar blast of the malt, again, this may be a problem with the style, but it just feels like candy water, with not enough complexity to justify it. Definitive beet sugar and slight boozy note that gives a little warmth on the palate, the oak is pervasive throughout with vanilla and bourbon notes on the backend. I once knew a dude who physically cut the top of his Oldsmobile Cutlass off, it’s bold moves like that that some people love, this is a bold move into dubious territory.

Ultimately, this offering might be a bit too strange for me, despite the grounding in novel territory

M: for all the bourbon, oak, vanilla, and caramel cherry notes, youd figure that it would have a malty chewiness to it, but that is not the case, it is surprisingly thin. A noteworthy hybrid between a belgian quad and an amber, with the boring effect that a cross-section of those two would produce. It’s Punnett’s square, recessive edition. Again, if you love this style, it is dead on for the style and pretty much as good as it gets for this genre, no alerections inspired by this offering.

D: Very drinkable and boasts a ton of diversity. I could give this to plenty of friends in a lot of different situations, illegal timbering, amateur meth lab creation, ice road trucking, all kinds of stuff. Does something being diverse make it good? Well I guess in the way your tomboy girlfriend can feel at home in a summer dress or equally gangly in wrangler cutoff jean shorts: diversity.

It’s like a blend of two familiar things, with strange results.

Narrative: You could feel the idle particles of dust drape upon you bit by bit, your unused glass with a wanting pallor for the warm touch of active paper. They knew what you were when they took you home from Staples: An All In One. Sure you’re not not exceptional at scanning, what with your plastic internal parts, but YOU CAN DO IT. Sure you may not print the best photos with your blotchy low quality ink, but IT CAN BE DONE. Faxing? You’ve got that covered, in a halfhearted, paper jam, off-contrast sorta way. But it is still faxing. The perfect package for a man who needs to a variety of things, very little of the time. Oh, here comes a formidible 5th grade sciene projec- oh I see, they just opted to take a picture with their camera phone and email it to themselves instead of your very capable scanning parts. Perhaps variety is the spice of life, but boring needless diversity, that’s more like UC Davis.


Founders Imperial Stout, KBS, FBS, CBS, Now it IS time to cut the BS.

The first time that I tried this beer was in a bar called “Blind Tiger” in Manhattan and I looked like Jafar discovering a bottle with a malty chocolate genie inside. Then I got into trading and the generous ass beer community ruined it for me by forwarding delicious morsels like this my way on the reg. THANKS A LOT GUYS. So this isn’t breakfast, it isn’t from Kentucky, it has no health care so it sure isn’t Canadian: IT IS JUST A FUCKING STOUT GUIZE. Alright, so let’s cut the shit and get down to business today.

See that there, that is a real pour. Go to other beer blogs, look at the Vanilla Dark Lord pours, 1 molar unit of beer, FUCK THAT. Embrace your self-effacement.

Founders Imperial Stout, 10.5% abv, 90 ibu

A: This beer is as black as an Al-Quaeda masquerade ball. Deep slick oil tones, khaki bubbles, mocha tones, great middle carbonation. Deep murky ink sitting hatefully waiting for someone to love. Don’t you want somebody to love? Or would you say you NEED- alright. The carbonation is legitimate but doesn’t flex on you too hard. It’s like some officious gym advice that scare you but, just look at those malty traps.

finally a beer drank exclusively by non-virgins. This is a tough, beef jerky making, log slaying, man beer, Equal opportunity inebriator.

S: Licorice, vanilla, bourbon, toffee, burnt cigars, and a caramel finish. A complex and interesting bouquet. Beers like this are a bitch to review because the sweet husk of perfect execution makes me have to point out how the hot girl had mid digit hair and build an entire case against her as a result. This beer has mid digit hair, ON MY CHEST AFTER I DRINK IT.

T: This tastes like KBS, introductory edition. It has hints of bourbon, hints of the big coffee roasted notes, but doesn’t take it over the top. The balance is phenomenal and it feels like a powered down version of a supercar, the Porsche Boxster to the Carrera if you will. It is by no means deficient, just hits a different mark. This beer tastes as barrel aged at they come without involving a barrel. I don’t know the exact availability but wow, this is the flagship of the east coast (psst Midwest, whatevs, geography lulz.) Just fantastic through and through, it’s like the FAMAS in every single first person shooter, you basically don’t NEED anything else, but, its a solid standby.

This stout straight werks it, borderline twerks it.

M: This has a great coating, nice sticky coating, not overly possessive, lets you go out with your friends without dominating your life, just a nice resonant stickiness that makes a mess without making your life messy. It puts a bit of a resin on your teeth but it feels responsible. The oral hygenist that leans over your lap a little longer but not uncomfortably, you know the dreeze.

D: This is incredibly drinkable despite the ABV, despite the IBUs, despite the errant nay sayers, you can love your Founder’s Imperial Stout however you’d like. I could drink this under any conditions, well, ok, if I had my testicles in a vice, I would enjoy it moderately less, but still, could be worse. This is amazing and if not for its overachieving older brothers, this would easily be in the top 100. GOD DAMN OLDER BROTHERS THAT STOICALLY LIVE IN BARRELS.

Nothing fishy here, just an entertaining stout, through and through.

Narrative: “I can’t go in there, I promised that this would be the last time,” Doug muttered to himself while sitting in his 1995 Dodge Stratus trying to create an explanation for his situation. “Don’t go to the coffee store Doug, that’s what the therapist said, you don’t need any more chocolate Doug, you know, AH HELL!” he cried out to himself and swung the door of his unremarkable, poorly made sedan. Doug burst through the door and entered the modest foyer holding several bags in each hand with a menacing grin on his face. “Oh for the love of God, Doug, MORE? Seriously?” he issued a flippant smile and proceeded to walk to the parlor and deposit his treasures. The parlor had become less of a refuge from domestic life and more of a Wonka/Starbucks/Scrooge McDuck den of iniquity. He emptied the bags into the pile and bags upon bags of 85% cocoa chocolate, whole coffee beans and even vanilla nibs were embraced by the pile. “THIS IS JUST GETTING OUT OF HAND, YOU, I MEAN LOOK AT THIS!” Madeline pleaded with him. In Doug’s mind, this was not excess, but the paradigm of balance. “Oh sure, one room with 125 lbs of chocolate, 125 lbs of coffee and assorted toffee and vanilla snacks seemed obsessive TO SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T UNDERSTAND!” Doug slammed the rich mahogany door and laid in his treasure trove of sweet succor. The sheer balance alone was enough, but there was a special embrace he felt while making a coffee/chocolate/vanilla/toffee angel in his living room floor.


Founder’s Breakfast Stout, In Michigan, You Can Drink Huge Stouts for Firstmeal. It Flies Over There.

Better late than never. Sure you ingrates are accustomed to hearing about brutal beers at 9 a.m. on the reg, but I had to mix it up with some afternoon delight for you, or a nighttime sesh for you East Coast kids. Anyway, I have had this plenty of times and love it a little more on each passing. This photo sucks but I dont feel like going through tons of beer pics to lock down a pic of a glass with black ink in it, just cut me some slack sheesh.

You can try this at home, mix oatmeal, chocolate syrup, Buffalo Trace, and coffee into a smoothie. Sounds legit.

Founder’s Breakfast Stout 8.3% abv

A: This beer has a real gentle coating to it with minimal lacing. It seems to impart the message that, “hey fellas, I will be here for a lil bit, don’t mind me,“ and then resigns itself to a deep cedar blackness, waiting to be beckoned. The oats in the stout gives it a great stickiness and foamy character without excessive carbonation.

Beer for breakfast, just like being a kid again. Or a little bitch, either way.

S: The smell feels like a gentleman’s breakfast: initially you get some nice smoky notes from a bacon or charred grist like you are a yeoman farmer, then comes coffee with a great mild nature, it isn’t that jerk coffee from Surly, this is more understated. The coffee notes are like jokes on Arrested Development. Ultimately, the chocolate notes emerge and as your mouth forms a tight “o”, the Nickelodeon prophecy comes true: COFFEE, BACON, and CHOCOLATE FOR BREAKFAST.

T: except you are an adult and you, hopefully, don’t drink this as your breakfast shake. If you do, don’t let me judge, alas I digress. This has an amazing silky mouthfeel with ::coughsatincough::: chocolate notes upfront nice and nice coffee notes to round it out.

Some kids had Nintendo Cereal, others were fed imperial stouts. Ah, childhood.

M: There is a nice, albeit, mild sticky lacing with great coating and the oats give it this awesome maltiness that makes it a force to be trifled with. Get your trifle on, become trifling. But seriously, this aspect gives old KBS a serious run for his money if only for how pleasant it reclines and makes itself at home. The mouthfeel is like a Shins albums and a warm blanket wrapped around you. It is hella comfy.

D: Let’s just get right down to it. This beer has no abv present that I can detect. Well, lets clarify, it has an incredible warming heat that is just refreshing as the day is long: LET’S CALL TODAY THE VERNAL EQUINOX. Did I mess the season up? Moving o-

Start your day with this beer, see how many bothers you encounter. Post results.

Narrative: Those spelling bees weren’t gonna win themselves. Toshan Doshi knew this deep down. Somehow all those days on the road, the countless flashcards, the endless memorization of root words had taken a toll on his 11 year old, obviously Indian frame. Show after show, there he was, scoring some new obtuse study cards to drill into lines, take into his head and pass out fulfilled. He would wake up each morning feeling more empty than the last. Last night he went hard on some gladiolus and luxuriance and passed out shortly thereafter. But how long could he keep up with this hardcore lifestyle. His manager didn’t care for him, he just propped him up with more vocab lists every night. His publicist just wanted him to win win win. Ultimately old Toshan only had a single friend in this world, a teddy bear named- [deleted advanced 45 minutes] until he recovered his teddy [deleted, fast forward 34 minutes] until he realized he never needed the bear at all [deleted fast forward 14 minutes] and that’s how Toshan won the NATIONAL SPELLING BEE COMPLETELY ON HIS OWN.


Founder’s Canadian Breakfast Stout, Finally a breakfast for the completely irresponsible. Hey, no one told you to have kids.

Another top 100 gem rolls in for your virtual tasting enjoyment. This beer came out a while back and everyone lost their shit and wanted the moon and the stars for it. 10,000 bottles later my hipstbeer sense remains intact, I had this when it was an unlabeled hand bottle. CBS was cooler when it was underground.

Like the other CBS, except less shitty crime dramas and this is actually enjoyable.

Founders Canadian Breakfast Stout, 9.3%

A: nice brown mahogany tones, not exceptionally thick but a welcoming nice tiny bubbles. It just looks like a chill homie, the dude you talk to in the bathroom line, that sweet girl who tells you who does her hair. Sweet and deep in scope. LIKE COPERNICUS BEST SYSTEM. C…B…

This beer was expensive and hard to find for a while. Allow me to locate a fuck to give.

S: amazing maple sweetness, nice sticky chocolate, amazing waft, it’s like boning a maple syrup clown in an ihop, except the clown is a ford model and its not sex, it is just SMELLING.

T: toffee, coffee, sticky vanilla notes, it has a great maple syrup sweetness to it that gives a great caramel and brown sugar resonance. The exhaling waft has a nice dry hint of espresso. Give old molasses granny a smooch, get all up in it, she just had chocolate donuts, mmm maple bars, its sweet and dirty but so ri- wait what were we talking about? Oh yeah, beers and shit.

How long do you think I can post this before I get a takedown notice? I will keep you POSTED.

M: This hits just the right mark with me. They took the Founders Breakfast Stout, the oats and the silkiness, and boosted the ABV just a bit and balanced it out even further with amazing sweet notes that were absent in the breakfast stout. All around, just incredibly drinkable and balanced.

D: This is the most drinkable stout that I have ever had. The cruel irony is that it is the least accessible stout that I have ever had, therefore, making it not drinkable. It has this awesome slick coating to the middle that isn’t too heavy and doesn’t weigh the palate down. It doesn’t make you ruminate over the last sip and instead ops for a cleaner oilier finish that beckons for the next taste. This is an incredible stout and worthy of the hype.

For a while this beer was the #1 stout in my eyes. Things change.

Narrative: Noble Clifford Oatshire looked out over his majestic estate of rolling maple trees and moose farms. “It seems so simple doesn’t it Jarvis?” “Sir?” “The maple syrup business, being born into an unshakeable empire of saccharine sweet breakfast commodities.” He ruminated while pressing his hand idly against the antique French-Canadian glass. “I- I don’t follow sir.” “Jarvis what I am asking is simple, all of this, the basset hounds, the rich gourmand palate that I have acquired, the first edition tomes bound in supple calf skin, to what do I owe this?” “Well, I suppose your father master Cliff?” Clifford exhaled and looked around at the imposing bookcases and portraits of his ancestors, each painted upon a 12 foot canvas. “Jarvis, who supports YM Magazine?” “Well, children, eh, that is to say, insecure girls, pre-women I suppose?” “And should they somehow slip away, who would buy YM Magazine then?” “Eh well, pedophiles and sexual deviants I suppose” Clifford took a sip of his bold cup of coffee and stirred his oatmeal demonstratively. “AND WHAT OF MAPLE SYRUP JARVIS? Will people need our condiment graces forever?” He was a powerful slick orator, with passion and a sweet disposition. “I only hope that we have done as much for the breakfast world as it has done for us.” He watched a mountie clip clop away into the distance across the vast Canadian tundra.