Alpine Bad Boy, All Those Naughty Oily Hops All Foamy and NSFW

Well, the top 100 beer rampage continues, because I am in the Christmas spirit and sharing good reviews is so much more fun than sharing reviews that are all halla sorry. This is not bottled and getting a growler of it is time consuming and not fun, drinking it is the exact opposite.

This Alpine has been a very very Bad Boy. Pay $3.99 a minute to listen to it get op-

Alpine Bad Boy, 9.5% abv, Double IPA

A: This has a radiant golden glow to it with a great clarity like majestic apple juice. The lacing looks like an abandoned haunted house and these a tons of webs all up in this piece. This be looking mad antiquated. The carbonation from the growler is solid and sticky throughout. This looks dangerous and somehow sessionable. First order of business, smooooothe flavorrr.

The hop cone, while related to marijuana, will not show up on urine tests. Rest assured.

S: The smell even on opening the growler is relentless. The hop presence detonates like pinecones galvanized all up in your dome piece. There is a grassy pineapple to it with some herbal grapefruit. I would deem this 60/40 herbal to fruit which is a solid balance. Hop Wallop needs to take some notes. This has more balance than a Chinese gymnast with an inner ear infection.

T: This is exactly what Alpine does so. Damn. Well. It just delivers a huge initial sweetness that fades into a freshly cut grassiness that makes you feel all elementary school for a second until, bam, honey sweetness that fades. This is like the more tactful version of Hopslam. A friend you can confide secrets in, a hoppy buddy you can take places and know he wont talk about when someone touched your no no. That kind of friend.

I want to be friends with this beer, but I am pretty sure it would ruin my shit if we hung out on a regular basis.

M: The mouthfeel is impossibly light. It is Pale Ale thin, imparts a huge herbal character that swirls a maple cape and fades into a loveable sweet note. It is David Blaine ass hop work. It leaves my mouth all astounded but wanting more. I suppose a growler is both an appropriate and inappropriate serving size, for obvious reasons. This will take a serious prestige amongst Ephraim and Citra. To be clear, this is far superior to Exponential Hoppiness in the way that Nightcrawler is superior to Colossus. It is just someone I would rather hang out with on a regular basis. This is nimble and bad ass, not some lumbering asshole who always asks you to save his sister from a tractor.

D: Holy jeez, this is the Live Oak of DIPA’s which is to say its drink ability is off the charts for the ABV and the complex character of the hop profile. I almost want to run my own tests to ascertain if this has any more than 4% abv but, the old liver test is sufficient. The fact that this is not in bottles has allegedly saved CalTrans millions in roadside clean ups. So there’s always that.

You make assumptions at first, but then it turns into a surprisingly refined experience.

Narrative: “Well? Did you find anything? All OF THE OPENINGS ARE SEALED!” Tarynn cried with the utmost agitation, Mark felt that a reference to that’s what she said would be inapropos in the case of a spelunking disaster. “WE ARE GOING TO DIE DOWN HERE!” Tarynn exclaimed while running her fingers through her thinning hair. She fell to her knees in desperation and clutched the halogen lantern desperately. “We can’t below the water table, so therefore, the sediment should push up some sustainable filtered water and, potentially some veget-” Mark tripped over a thick tuft of underground foliage. “What in the-” he discontinued his sentence in that staccato manner that characters in situation comedies do, despite not being interrupted. “HECK” he finished, but so much later that it didn’t seem canon with his previous sentence. “What is it Mark?” Tarynn called out. There was a fresh pool of water seeping through the floor but it was fully entwined by sticky, vinuous hop plants. The smell was overwhelming. “This-” he did it again, “is our only chance of survival.” The two nodded gravely and began to suck from the pools the sticky water and push raw hop flowers into their gullets. “If only we-” Mark declared before falling asleep. The geological team found them 8 days later, high out of their minds on raw hop flowers. Mark’s sentences have since been correc-


Flossmore Station Railhopper IPA, Getting my Rails Hopped So Hard Right Now.

My rails get all hopped just looking at this beer.

Flossmore Station Railhopper IPA, 7% abv

A: Nothing too crazy here, nice bright amber with deep gold hues, decent carbonation that mellows pretty quickly, not exceptionally beautiful but nothing ugly about it. A solid ale on the streets but a hoppy freak in the sheets.

S: Some orange rind and some mild sweetness but not a huge nose to this, maybe it’s because it was 2 months old, but I don’t see that being a great alibi because even the subtle notes arent there. It has a very flat olfactory character. No amount of clever writing will make Ashton Kutcher likeable, no amount of artful smells will make this crazy interesting.

You enjoy this IPA? How about I slap your shit?

T: This tastes like a 1.5 IPA, I say that with the respect that it has a nice light citrus character and a mellow piney character. There’s nothing wrong with it but it’s just lackluster. It sidesaddles two genres and comes off feeling a bit weak and generic. I don’t want all “Fresh Hopslam” proponents to get all up in arms but this just seems rather hackneyed for a brewery that rolls out crazy original. I harm them because I love them and just expect more. There’s not excuse for domestic hop violence.

M: Very good, nice crispness without being overly drying. Nice bubbles throughout and a taste that lingers without being oppressive like some Maharajas that I know. No overly herbal character, but it will be difficult to pick it out of a lineup of IPAs. It doesn’t have that certain joi de vivre that most flagship IPAs will maintain.

I should have drank this sooner.

D: Very drinkable, if accessible. I don’t want to insult it as an “entry level IPA” like a monicre I would give to Ranger IPA, but it just feels like someone phoned it in on either the hop bill or just went for the standard grain bill or something. Maybe I am just being an IPA curmudgeon, who knows. Certainly drinkable but it wouldn’t be my go to over the stable (D)IPAs like Pliny/Sculpin etc/

Narrative: “You can’t return this, at least not without a receipt, and then unfortunately you can only receive store credit at FashionBug.” His demeanor was cool and calm, Waylon Lupus was the calm store manager notorious for difusing tense situations. “Now please, if you would like another spandex unitard, you can feel free to select another that is to your liking.” He did not maintain a smile or the slightest bit of hesitation while addressing the irate female single mother desperately searching for deals. His voice was monotone and crisp, like an audio book revealing depressing consumer news to crestfallen patrons. “Perhaps I could show you our wide selection of strapless patent leather shoes?” He uttered effortlessly and slid whimsically towards the appropriate section, mesmerizing his pacified companion. “No one knows your greatness Waylon, no one but me,” a soft voice uttered in the security booth while tracing a single finger across the monitor looking over the shoe aisle. “No one but me.”