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Russian River Brewing Framboise for a Cure, The Perfect Cure for Those Thursday Blues

Alright before everyone starts bitching and pulling out their cellar penises: YES, this is batch 2. This is the old “Temptation” base not the “Beatification/Sonambic” base that all the fanboys rave about but guess what- IT IS STILL DELICIOUS AND PRETTY rartastic so let’s stomp smashing each other’s raspberries and get on with today’s review. For the cure.

The sales benefit breast cancer, the beer cures my lingering sobriety.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.50% ABV

A: Holy radioactive hell, call the mayor of Raspberry Town because his test subject from the lab has escaped. The hue is overwhelmingly beautiful and I am sure you could use this to light your way if you every got lost at a dark Filipino rave. It is straight up Mariana Trench bright luminescence with pinks and radiant Lisa Frank binder hues. One of the prettiest beers that I have ever seen.

I was already enjoying Temptation, and then Raspberry Dubstep happened.

S: This has a nice tart berry at the outset and a waft of lingering fruit dryness like a Farmer’s Market gone horribly right. The whole thing beckons like an acidic smoothie. There is a slight earthy note that isn’t funk but isn’t quite the berries themselves, let’s just assume it is ground up stems and seeds and sticks, put it in the air.

T: The taste is incredibly tart with a lactic aspect to it but the fresh berries balance things out and offer a good palate/bad palate routine that works well. I got a hint of Chardonnay but it’s like hearing the organ in a song by the Murder City Devils, you really have to look for it, the whole affair is dominated by fresh, tart raspberry preserves.

This beer is incredibly strong, but gentle at the same time.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and puckering not in the same acid range as those hot lambics or that asshole Sch. Kriek, but still holds its own with a light finish that leaves a lasting acrimonious memory and some signed raspberry headshots in your palate’s studio to remember them by.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you might even be able to do it without a Mylanta chaser. It is incredibly simple in execution and lacks some of the funk and musk that some of the Eastern gems bring, but the raspberries and fresh acidic finish are too good to pass up. For all the problems that I had with Temptation, both of them, are remedied in this format with an awesome Oops! all berries panache. I will donate plenty of money for cures if this is the recompense. NPR needs to start just kicking out lambics for their members and watch how short those pledge drives would be.

I can see this beer changing over time into something magnificent.

Narrative: Macualay Culkin gritted his frail mandible and threw the copy of US! Weekly into the fireplace of his spacious 1 bedroom Koreatown apartment. “ADDICTED TO HEROIN!?” he thought to himself and looked at his sunken, pale features. “Look at you man! You’re the picture of good health, Mac!” The crimson rifts in his eyes pumped all white aspects a pale pink. “Sure, I might look a little gaunt once in a while, but living in Los Angeles, am I supposed to be in the sun all the time?” A paparazzi flashbulb pierced his flimsy IKEA curtains and he pulled them closed. “I know what to do! I must appear as the paradigm of health to my loyal fans.” He collected a biographical work concerning the expulsion of the Huguenots from the Bourbon Empire and a big bottle of raspberry juice. He headed directly to the Grove and attempted to look non-chalant while grimacing at the taste of real fruits. He could not understand a single word about the Edict of Nantes and looked nauseous the entire time. Next week’s issue of US! Weekly read “Kevin McCallister FALL FROM GRACE! IN DETOX WITH RASPBERRY JUICE AND UNREADABLE LITERATURE!” He lithely held his hands to his cheeks and muttered a faint “erghhhhh-“

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Lost Abbey Framboise De Amarosa, Farmboise De Omarosa REEEMIXXXX 2012 CLUE CLUE DJ KAYSLAY THE DRAMA KING fee fee feenn feeennn.

Alright, so I don’t usually drop the beat and bring the track back unless there’s not enough snare in my headphones. In the case of last year’s Framboise De Amarosa, there was too much acidic tinny snare rankling my jimmies. I was straight rustled. So I figured I would give this a chopped and screwed 2012 flow for the masses.

Some people complain that there are too many sour reviews up in the cut like what these days. Don't worry, the days of shitty adjunct lagers and Solo cups is almost among us. The air is redolent with bluebell and azalea.

Lost Abbey Framboise de Amarosa
American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

Let me kick off this slow jam by noting that this is largely different from last year’s batch in that the acidity has been ratcheted in, they install some sick fruit forward headers, and catback raspberry exhaust. If you like a more subtle approach, you will enjoy it more, if you have dental insurance, you might like the old acidic approach, hey, whatever chases your Valtrex is cool with me homie.

Old craft beer enthusiasts are tough to impress.

A: There are deep ruby hues with some nice light carbonation and light red lacing. It’s like Hypnotiq’s baller ass raspberry flavor to be all sipping on while you’re cruising in your triple black Challenger. It looks a lil more murky than last year but on the Cuvee De Tomme tip, just a lil juicy juice.

This beer is confusing but strangely fulfilling. The mystery continues further this year. Uncel Doland appreves.

S: The smell presents an intense cranberry and acidic dryness with raspberry on the nose. The oak is present in the smell and it is has a juicy wine profile to it. It’s like Andre Rose Champagne but with leather seats and a cutty ass Gucci interior. The skins and crispness of the berries is more present and there’s less of a harshness on the low ph scale to this, and it is more approachable as a result.

T: The taste is still drying but doesn’t go balls out on the oak, it has more of a refined and balanced approach to the berry and interplay with the base beer. If last year was a caustic Fox news, this would be…The Raspberry Science Monitor? As it warms you get a jammy preserve sort of interplay that works well with the skins and wild ale base.

This is a sweet sassy gem with a sticky sense of shameful reproach when the glass is gone.

M: Again, there is an intense, huge crisp dryness. The mouthfeel seems like it’s an intense merlot with oak to round it out. It’s tough to determine exactly how thin or thick this beer is because the coating is so acrimonious. IT’S SUCH A DEEP BURN, OHHH DEEP SQUATS WITH SICK BOUNCING BETTIES, SICK DEAD LIFT FINISH BROMOROSA.

Raspberry deliciousness. TARGETS ACQUIRED.

D: This is an incredible experience with crazy highs and low to it. This is not a figure of balance, nor does it do anything in moderation. It is impossible not to recommend this exceptional beer to others. Clearly, it is not meant to be enjoyed as a sesssion beer and should be treated accordingly. The taste is so amazing that it is hard to knock it for adhering to a certain style so well. Overall it is incredibly bitter and juicy and I am left wanting more.

This amazing raspberry gem is a sign of cognition and awareness to come. FUCKING BREADCATS PEOPLE.

Narrative: The train of her ostentatious gown dragged upon the split staircase with wanton disregard for anyone walking near her. After all, there were plenty of tailors within her Parlor and weekly soirees that would readily repair any damage. Somehow Countess Brioche sought more than just the exploitation of the endearing faces of the working classes. She sought their unending love. Notwithstanding, her acerbic parents brought her up to speak her mind truthfully and freely at all times, no matter how scathing. “Oh-oh-oh!” The Duchess of Piedmont fell down two stairs to her knees upon the rich velvet of Countess Briochess’s train. “Your steps lack precision due to the mass pressed upon them.” Mme. Brioche commented and felt a slight pang at her ejaculation. It wasn’t fair to cut others so deeply with such a bitter acerbic purity. Somehow, in this acidic repartee, others saw themselves, and their own shortcomings, despite the caustic burns they received. Countess Brioche looked upon a bustling courtyard of servants who despised her, but respected her stinging candor.

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Lost Abbey Framboise De Amarosa, Farmboise De Omarosa be too crazy.

Framboise Never Had It So Good

Framboise de Amarosa, American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

A: There are deep ruby hues with some nice light carbonation and light red lacing. It’s like Hypnotiq’s baller ass raspberry flavor to be all sipping on while you’re cruising in your triple black Challenger.

S: The smell presents an intense cranberry and acidic dryness with raspberry on the nose. The oak is present in the smell and it is has a juicy wine profile to it. It’s like Andre Rose Champagne but with leather seats and a cutty ass Gucci interior.

T: The taste is incredibly drying with incredibly tart raspberry notes. This might be the driest and also the most tart american wild ale that I have ever had. The juiciness was present but largely the dryness wipes out the gumline and presents a huge intimidating bouquet of berries and crispness. The acidity is crazy and stings like an atomic warhead.

M: Again, there is an intense, huge crisp dryness. The mouthfeel seems like it’s an intense merlot with oak to round it out. It’s tough to determine exactly how thin or thick this beer is because the coating is so acrimonious. IT’S SUCH A DEEP BURN, OHHH DEEP SQUATS WITH SICK BOUNCING BETTIES, SICK DEAD LIFT FINISH BROMOROSA.

D: This is an incredible experience with crazy highs and low to it. This is not a figure of balance, nor does it do anything in moderation. It is impossible not to recommend this exceptional beer to others. Clearly, it is not meant to be enjoyed as a sesssion beer and should be treated accordingly. The taste is so amazing that it is hard to knock it for adhering to a certain style so well. Overall it is incredibly bitter and juicy and I am left wanting more.

Narrative: The train of her ostentatious gown dragged upon the split staircase with wanton disregard for anyone walking near her. After all, there were plenty of tailors within her Parlor and weekly soirees that would readily repair any damage. Somehow Countess Brioche sought more than just the exploitation of the endearing faces of the working classes. She sought their unending love. Notwithstanding, her acerbic parents brought her up to speak her mind truthfully and freely at all times, no matter how scathing. “Oh-oh-oh!” The Duchess of Piedmont fell down two stairs to her knees upon the rich velvet of Countess Briochess’s train. “Your steps lack precision due to the mass pressed upon them.” Mme. Brioche commented and felt a slight pang at her ejaculation. It wasn’t fair to cut others so deeply with such a bitter acerbic purity. Somehow, in this acidic repartee, others saw themselves, and their own shortcomings, despite the caustic burns they received. Countess Brioche looked upon a bustling courtyard of servants who despised her, but respected her stinging candor.