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Goose Island Matilda, Naming Beers After Geriatric Women Tops New Beer Trends

Ah my first dance with Goose Island was with sweet old Matilda. She was gentle but instructing at the same time. Oh how we’ve grown on to sample the other “rarer” madames in the GI lineup, but I don’t see Bourbon County waiting for that 2 a.m. call, only sweet old ‘Tilda. Anyway, let’s check her out in today’s review.

There was a time when I thought that this actually passed for a beer pic. Oh how we have evolved.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
Belgian Strong Pale Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: the head is a full two finger affair that subsides after a moment into some gentle lacing, nothing out of the ordinary, particularly for the belgium strong style. Strangely calm color, inbetween brass and copper, nothing too menacing here, a step above a pale ale in its appearance. She’s a sweet old lady who can always jitterbug with light white lacey doilies for your cup of amber tea.

I can’t stay mad at you, old Matilda.

S: This has some grapes (white), pear, a bit of honey dryness, clove, nothing musky or out of the ordinary. very sweet bouquet. This has a huge distribution and is my air raid shelter from shitty BMC when I go to overpriced West Hollywood bars.

T: This ale is very sweet on the palate, no hoppy finish, almost sweet through and through, the finish is a mild crisp ginger almost, reminscient of a saison, not in the style of a belgium strong. the sweet fruit notes come through and linger shortly.

When I am old, I will still do my chores like a baws. Or better yet, no chores for me because I am fucking old.

M: the straw appearance gives an upfront note as to what you will be expecting, a quick burn that doesnt coat especially well, but the yeast is present and allows the spiciness to gently pass. Upon tasting a creaminess develops to enhance the fruit notes, but again, passes rather quickly. It was like that Chimpanzee movie, come on Disney, a “movie” that is 78 minutes long? Come on.

D: A solid blend between a saison style and belgium table ale, I feel the “STRONG” is a bit misplaced, but maybe my american palate is too jaded for extremes, however, this is made in Chicago, where are the meat packing houses and the spirit of the Jungle, the bitter cold, the inclement people? This is a solid Nissan Altima of belgium ales, very drinkable but not quite notable in any respect. In light of the pircetag, probably will not purchase again, pound for pound. The 7 percent is nice, but with the hops and ABV arms race out there, you can get pilsners in 7 percent so its particularly not a heavy hitter for its style.

The perfect drink to raise your children on before they get into heavier shit.

Narrative: You said this would be the last time, you curse yourself, breath swilling cold in circlets from your lips, “you ARE A BELGIAN ALE” you told yourself that when you looked in the bezzled mirror, you told yourself when you filled up your handbag, dont sell yourself short, you can do this. A john approaches in a Mitsubishi Mirage, not exactly your market but hey, “Belgium strong, what’s your pleasure” he looks displased…is it…my color? No…I look almost how I should..” YOU? You’re a belgizn strong? I had you pegged more for a French farmhouse girl…what’re you into?” He’s judgmental, and I am nervous, he knows, he knows I am mediocre and he’s smelling it as well “I am into whatever can foot the bill sweetie” He gestures knowingly that this baleful ale will be costly but ultimately fulfilling. The mighty 4 cylinder revvs towards consumption. It was a tawdry sham, but it was still fulfilling deep down.

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Goose Island Bourbon County Brand Stout Coffee, The Perfect Morning Beverage for a Taxidermist

Taxidermists do not fuck around. I have cable, so I know things now. This beer is lodged so tightly in the top 100 that it would take King Arthur and pneumatic jaws to pull this bitch free.

So take the already amazing Bourbon County Stout, then add (arguably, settle down Kopi Lowak) the best coffee in the entire world, Intelligentsia, and what do you get?

Today's review sponsored by Turkey Island Brewing Company.

Goose Island Beer Co.
Illinois, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV

Yes I know, the midwest is drilling my cellar like a freelance spelunker, but first you get complaints about too much Vermont, now too much CHICAGOLAND, next week, I am only reviewing beers from North Dakota.

Both of them.

(If anyone seriously has any beer from ND, contact me, that will get cashed harder than a meth addict’s government benefits check on the 15th.)

A: The bottle pours a slick deep black with a light khaki head, The lacing is light but the liquid grips and obfuscates the sides of the glass. No light penetrates this darkness, not even at the edges. Just like those early dates, not even at the edges. Feelup jokes, we are doing them now.

After a bottle of this, I have no idea what is going on, but I sure have the energy to investigate it.

S: It smells like a pot of amazing espresso, oakiness, but coffee through and through, you can smell it 18 inches away during the pour. This is a lively coffee house where all the hipsters with glasses are tossing out HJ’s with capricious alacrity. Besides overwhelming amazing coffee, there are notes of dates, currants, licorice, and dark chocolate. There is an earthy oak to it too that makes this 22oz bottle pack a haymaker. Which is by no means a sleight to hay makers, you maintain an important profession and I doff my alfalfa webbed cap to you. Amish.

T: The taste is, get this, COFFEE. Yeah, no hiding the ball there this isn’t the 1919 WORLD SERIES here. It seriously is coffee, then espresso, then french press, then, wait…oh machiatto. Finally, chocolate notes make a big impression. There is very little hoppy dryness, just a full, welcoming sweetness that is followed by mellowed by a big coffee body that has a slight heat that would benefit from some aging, but that is the case with most people obsessed with chocolate. Or wait, the opposite, people who eat to much chocolate need to get a time machine and, ah fuck it.

Ultimately, no matter how weird you feel drinking this by 14% bomber by yourself, just think of how many other weird assholes that there are out there.

M: This doesn’t have a huge Abyssesque body to it. I don’t chew on the malts for hours and ruminate on it. Given the impressive ABV, it gets in, imparts a huge flavor and the finish is pretty standard. I am sure you would be able to smell this a mile away, but the taste doesn’t linger too long, which is a good aspect since the initial taste is where it is at with this beer. It’s tough to underscore how dangerous this beer is. Uninstall all your iphone apps before drinking this shit, oh whats that? Just bought Too $hort’s full discography on ebay? Too bad.

D: As far as imperial stouts go, this is excellent. For something this huge with a staggering presence, I think I could actually go beyond the 22oz and request a magnum to myself. The weather will likely be the deciding factor for this beer as most situations outside will not be equal opportunity employers for stouts in general but the sweetness and light finish to this stout puts it in a nice position to argue its case for outdoor activities. Michelob Ultra nervously eyes its Canondale bicycle. This is meant for mornings. This is meant for those morning that you want to forget and those days you want to truly become aware of around 4:30 p.m. Go drink 14% beers in the morning, see how the rest of your day goes.

Don't like being sober at all? Love staying up really late? I have just the drink for you, and it isn't vintage 4Loko.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Some astute readers will note “WHAT THE FUCK, this is all recycled SHIT FROM THE BCBS REVIEW” the economy is tight, can’t be wasting characters on duplicative reviews. You get what you pay for, speaking of which, a recycled narrative with the word “COFFEE” laced in it:

Narrative: “TELL US WHERE YOU HID THE COFFEE!” Sargeant Myers slammed his fist down on the cast aluminum table shaking Raven Moonclaw’s glass of COFFEE. “The body, my dear sargeant, is a part of what Aristoteleans call ‘the Aether’ and as a skilled ilusionist, I can never reveal my COFFEE.” He produced from thin air a Capri slim and ignited it spontaneously, despite being searched top to COFFEE upon booking. “You see my dear corporal, the line between menace and altruist is murkily coffee” with a swift slight of hand he transformed his Capri cigarette into an ebony cup of coffee. “WHAT THE-” Sargeant Myers staggered back wiping his brow. “The problem with ethics and illusionists is the code of secrecy, for how can an objective ethical code exists without parameters of repentance or accountability my good barista?” The handcuffs clicked and shattered into coffee candies onto the floor. “I myself do not detest the wicked, but merely embrace the sweet for the fleeting moments I am-” a black clod of smoke appeared and the final resonating words filled the interrogation room: “COFFEE.”

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Goose Island Lolita, Getting Nabokov All Twisted.

Finally a wild ale even non-pedophiles can enjoy.

Lolita, American Wild Ale, 7.0% abv

A: light cherry red hues with minimal lacing and carbonation that dissipates quickly. Capri Sun nailed it on this one and Hi-C is jocking so hard.

S: the Brett funk is present with wafts of wet hay and blankets. It is expansive and in the words of one observer, “something is rotten.” In my opinion, all is well and delicious with the aroma, considering the style. It finishes with cherry and tart fruit roll up smells. It’s like a ridiculously alcoholic recess sesh.

This beer is tempting, but dangerous.

t: Raspberries are present with a very sour mild drying effect that is not overwhelming on the sour. Overall is has very good balance and is incredibly refreshing. The juiciness has a strange tart nature with a crisp nice bite to the finish. The hops are completely absent, but they are not wantonly missed. Gushers for grown ups all up in my grill.

M: Put simply, there is no coating and the maltiness is similar to a lambic or a thin profile gueuze. You swallow and bam it’s over, all that anticipation and just a fleeting sour note, like most Brendan Fraser movies.

I want to sit around and be patient for more, but, I know it will never come.

D: This is a tough call because it is very drinkable but slightly drying after 22 oz. It reminds me of listening to a Dragonforce album, where at first blush you love every note and run, you praise the complexity but after a solid hour of it the wear and tear of the items all taking place at once begin to grate on you. It is hard to fault and, just short of Russian River and Lost Abbey offerings, this is incredible.

Narrative: Lola had this anxiety in her chest. A strange aching pain that began just after 6th grade that she couldn’t explain. At first blush it seemed like a mere tightness, or maybe just a hormonal inbalance, however, she began to realize some powerful changes in the following year. Now I present this not in a biological or coming of age way, to be quite blunt, Lola could reduce her size at will. It began simply enough she would exhale to relieve herself of the constant worry and tension and note her sprite figure diminish from her regular 5’1” stature to a 4’6” height. With practice in her room, she even could push these numbers lower and lower until at the crest of her 14th birthday she could rest comfortably sweet and refined amongst her massive pillows with her things. Her iPod screen showed full screen matinees and all over her childhood possessions took huge new forms. She was indeed as Lolita as one could be, ensconced in between the comforter. She giggled to herself when her mother came in and couldn’t find her amongst the folds. She was as sweet as the day was long but she held that tart little character, and an everlasting little secret.

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Goose Island Bourbon County Stout, I Could Fight Infinite Geese

Sickest Beer Picture of the Year. Ansel Adams all up in this bitch.

Happy Thanksgiving you Ingrates, Here’s an AMAZING stout review for you to be all thankful for.

Bourbon County Stout, Goose Island, 13% abv, Imperial Stout

A: The bottle pours a slick deep black with a light khaki head, The lacing is light but the liquid grips and obfuscates the sides of the glass. No light penetrates this darkness, not even at the edges. Just like those early dates, not even at the edges. Feelup jokes, we are doing them now.

S: It smells like a cherry cordial melted into a spiteful sludge. There are notes of dates, currants, licorice, and dark chocolate. There is an earthy oak to it too that makes this 12oz bottle pack a haymaker. Which is by no means a sleight to hay makers, you maintain an important profession and I doff my alfalfa webbed cap to you. Amish.

When I poured it, my face was all like this. Bourbon eyed.

T: The taste is surprisingly straight forward, the fruits are absent from the taste but the coffee and chocolate notes make a big impression. There is very little hoppy dryness, just a full, welcoming sweetness that is followed by mellowed by a big coffee body that has a slight heat that would benefit from some aging, but that is the case with most people obsessed with chocolate. Or wait, the opposite, people who eat to much chocolate need to get a time machine and, ah fuck it.

M: This doesn’t have a huge Abyssesque body to it. I don’t chew on the malts for hours and ruminate on it. Given the impressive ABV, it gets in, imparts a huge flavor and the finish is pretty standard. I am sure you would be able to smell this a mile away, but the taste doesn’t linger too long, which is a good aspect since the initial taste is where it is at with this beer. It’s tough to underscore how dangerous this beer is. Uninstall all your iphone apps before drinking this shit, oh whats that? Just bought Too $hort’s full discography on ebay? Too bad.

I would try and talk shit on this amazing beer but, it would be the gentle touch of soft trolling. Let's just be real.

D: As far as imperial stouts go, this is excellent. For something this huge with a staggering presence, I think I could actually go beyond the 12oz and request a bomber to myself. The weather will likely be the deciding factor for this beer as most situations outside will not be equal opportunity employers for stouts in general but the sweetness and light finish to this stout puts it in a nice position to argue its case for outdoor activities. Michelob Ultra nervously eyes its Canondale bicycle.

Narrative: “TELL US WHERE YOU HID THE BODY!” Sargeant Myers slammed his fist down on the cast aluminum table shaking Raven Moonclaw’s glass of water. “The body, my dear sargeant, is a part of what Aristoteleans call ‘the Aether’ and as a skilled ilusionist, I can never reveal my secrets.” He produced from thin air a Capri slim and ignited it spontaneously, despite being searched top to bottom upon booking. “You see my dear corporal, the line between menace and altruist is murkily unclear” with a swift slight of hand he transformed his Capri cigarette into an ebony gecko. “WHAT THE-” Sargeant Myers staggered back wiping his brow. “The problem with ethics and illusionists is the code of secrecy, for how can an objective ethical code exists without parameters of repentance or accountability my good enforcer?” The handcuffs clicked and shattered into sixlet candies onto the floor. “I myself do not detest the wicked, but merely embrace the sweet for the fleeting moments I am-” a black clod of smoke appeared and the final resonating words filled the interrogation room: “BEHOLDEN.”

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Goose Island Juliet American Wild Ale, Jamammy name Juliet

Wherefrought Art Thou

Juliet, My Sun, wherefrouartthou, Jamammy name Juliet

Goose Island Juliet 6.7% Wild Ale

A: Deep amber and light ruby notes, almost no carbonation, no lacing, very tame in body not very sticky, and like the foam parties of the late 90’s I like dem bodies all sticky icky. Also Chemical Brothers, where applicable.

S: Huge wild notes, funk vinegar, grape peels, sour blackberries, tart wood finish, but let me tell you about the REST OF HER. Ba dum tish.

T: The fruits are more mellow, but refreshing. I will rarely give Consecration a run for its money but this is very on point for the style and finish. I ultimately love the oaky and high abv of the Consecration but this is just fantastic. The vinous notes are supported with background sweetness and the tannins are great and add a layer of complexity to it. It gets down all tart and starts merking the gumline, popping and locking all up in the sweet and sour zones, popin lockin dropin that birthday cake.

M: It is very light in maltiness, thank god, and lets the fruits and wild aspect take charge with the full character. The drying fruit skin notes resonate for just long enough to make you want to reengage. I love that it doesn’t cop out the indistinct sweet/cider route or try to be a gueuze in disguise. This is distinctively sour and the experience is top notch. It’s doing things well without additives, like when sours rock fake contact lenses or extensions, you know something is up. Or when your sour only earns $800 per pay check but has that LV bag, you know something straight questionable. Not here, Juliet keeps it real.

D: All. Day. Long. This is a great beer and the abv makes it universally accessible and great to offer anyone. The light character with HUGE taste makes a crazy synergy that makes me want multiple bombers of this. If I had more patience, I would age it further and enjoy the mellowed version but, I do not and it is great as it is. It’s pretty legit, not exactly too legit to warrant quitting, but, quite legit.

Narrative: Juliet knew she had something special to her. At first it was just idle whispers when she was younger. As she came of age, she learned to hone in on the narratives and focus in on the voices in her head. She had learned to learn a lot of things from the flowers, especially in the month of June. It was an ethereal talent that really did not give her any special insight to the world, but it was a power her own. “JULEZ? Are you still sitting out in the boysenberry patch?” Her conversation was interrupted abruptly and she had to put the rhododendron on hold. “Yeah mom, hang on.” The flowers really just complained and imparted sour notes into her life, but, somehow being so in sync with the idle problems of the flora made he feel whole. Juliet was a sweet minx, but sour through and through. “BUT PRAYTELL, HOW SHE FIT ALL THAT IN THEM JEANS?” the tawdry floral chorus sang in unison as she walked away.