Pat’s Beer Concentrate: Start Crushing Up Rails, Mainline your Ales Back on that Grizzy

It was only a matter of time before people started moving beer into bricks of that china white. That real unstepped on beer concentrate has been a product I can’t seem to go to any limited beer release without hearing about. Tickers be like “Hey you know how I weigh 245 lbs and wear a size 46 waist? Man, well one of my main issues is I can’t drink beer while I go on long hiking trips. It really sucks. I want a tepid, shitty beer to celebrate my hypothetical physical exploits.”

Well fear not, now you can chop up rails of dehydrated beer and have escorts snort them out of your stretch mark luges:


Oh you improved beer by removing all the water from it? TELL ME MORE

Oh you improved beer by removing all the water from it? TELL ME MORE

Consider the MIC FUCKING DROPPED ON THE BORING ASS LIQUID BASED BEER WORLD. You enjoying that St. Lamvinus you purple toothed pussy? Good, because the future is here Marty McFly, powder beer. I expect this to perform well in the 12 person mormon family, those kids are already accustomed to powdered milk, so why not horrible powdered ale?

From their site:

“Beer is typically about 95% water, which makes it heavy, cumbersome, and expensive to transport. But with our innovative and modern brewing process (patent pending) we can create a nearly waterless beer concentrate that contains all the great flavor, alcohol, and aroma of a premium quality micro brew. Our beer is not dehydrated beer!”

I can’t tell you about how when awesome 750mls of goozie show up at my door, how many times I was like “jesus this Blabaer is cumbersome, heavy and expensive to transport.” Because that’s what beer drinkers really give a fuck about, not taste, but shipping magnate considerations: “Oh tight you are gonna send me a Barrel Aged Huna? Wait…how much does that 750ml weigh? Oh fuck that, no thanks, I am not dealing with a cumbersome 2.2 lbs. Not on my watch. That is gonna cost at least eight dollars to ship. No thanks, and go fuck yourself with a letter opener.”

I love that they bring the real science up in the mix, tossing dehydrated malt up in the air like King James. Their process of dehydrating beer is so innovative the US GOVERNMENT CANT EVEN UNDERSTAND IT TO ISSUE A PATENT. Sorry patent attorneys learn to fucking Science, PAT IS ON THE TRILLEST DEHYDRATION TIP. But despite their efforts taking a water and turning it into powder, they assure you: OUR BEER IS NOT DEHYDRATED BEER.

Hold up let me look up dehydrated real quick while my vas deferens resets.

de·hy·dra·tion (d h -dr sh n). n. 1. The process of removing water from a substance or compound

OH shit, they are right, this isn’t just dehydration because they removed way more than water, they removed fun, taste, enjoyability, mouthfeel, shame, and the ability for people not to laugh at your Space Camp bullshit at the next part you go to. Maybe if you won Double Dare and still obsess about NASA, this will be your jam. I can also guarantee your small bent dick will never pass the threshold of an oral cavity. So there is also that.

Beer was fine with water.  Why the fuck I dont even

Beer was fine with water. Why the fuck I dont even

So wait, if it isn’t dehydrate, what the fuck is this?

“Instead, our process (patent pending) allows us to start with almost no water, and carefully control the environment of the fermentation. The result… concentrated beer with all the same great taste you’re used to in a premium micro brew. All you do is add water, carbonate, and enjoy.”

Oh so they brew the beer, something for thousands of years made in a liquid medium, instead they…brew with no water? That’s like if you were like “You have enjoyed normal hand jobs for years, in movie theaters, in Chevrolet Cavaliers, and other cumbersome locations: BUT NOW ENJOY A HAND JOB THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE YOUR COCK OR ANY HANDS AT ALL.” If you are giving me a powder not brewed with water, then it isn’t a HJ; plain and simple.

I love their passing remark about how you just have to…carbonate it yourself. So this travel friendly product needs to be carbonated, that can’t be more cumbersome than just opening a bottle right?


Oh wait fuck no. You have to carry a cumbersome penis pump meets Nalgene bottle. If you listen closely you will hear the sound of pilates women fleeing from your dumbass contraption. The pitter patter of size zero steps away from your very presence.

“The carbonator bottle’s organic form feels like it belongs in your hand… because it does! This elegant little addition to your gear list is engineered with an emphasis on rugged durability and simplicity of use. In its more docile state, it functions as your standard run of the mill water bottle (yawn). ”

FINALLY A FUCKING BOTTLE THAT BELONG IN MY HAND, no thanks to you, beer. What with your awkward hand-adverse shape, fuck you beer. It is funny that in the beginning they are talking mad shit on how cumbersome beer bottles are and then they assume that you have a “gear list” to enjoy this granulated precum beverage. Then they try and make it seem like some bad ass decepticon WHILE IT IS IN IN ITS DOCILE FORM. Oh shit you don’t wanna see this in its ultramalignant final form, CARBONATING THE FUCK OUT OF EVERYTHING IN SIGHT.

Just reading through this product website puts a smile on my face. The lulz are resonant through my palatial estate.

Just reading through this product website puts a smile on my face. The lulz are resonant through my palatial estate.

Have you ever seen a marketing agent rub his dick so hard against some Dockers that his taint is raw with anticipation? Well read this sentence:

“However, when you decide to kick it into high gear and unleash the technology hiding under its hood, you get a burst of crisp refreshing carbonation to energize the beverage of your choice. So no matter how far your wander lust leads you down the trail of your next adventure, you can still indulge your thirst for carbonated refreshment!”

They seriously wrote that, about a tiny pump on a water bottle. I am not making this shit up.

Another stupid fucking peripheral in the beer community? Disapprove.

Another stupid fucking peripheral in the beer community? Disapprove.

Ok so at this point you are probably like “alright, enough cock jokes, seriously, why does this bullshit exist?”


“In 1997 Patrick Tatera was on a backpacking trip in the southern region of Canyon Lands Park in UT. Just before leaving on the trip, he and his buddy purchased a 12 pack of tasty micro brewed refreshment, put it on ice in a cooler, and then left it in the car at the trailhead. By mid afternoon, they had reached their designated camp spot in an awe inspiring section of the park. The sky was blue, the smell of sage brush permeated the air, and there was not another hiker to be seen. Everything was perfect… except one thing.”

That one thing was a line of leaking diarrhea spilling down the trailhead from all the bullshit that the participants were full of.

First of all, beer nerds don’t hike. Have you been to a beer release? They are just a step away from bucking Bronies, wearing screen printed t shirts and Fedoras from Spencer’s gifts with acne playing Apples to Apples in an industrial parking lot at 4 a.m. These motherfuckers dont exercise. Second, YOU ARE GOING ON A HIKE WHY DO YOU NEED TWELVE WARM JOSTLED BEERS? How big of an alcoholic are you that going out in nature isn’t entertaining enough for your rapacious liver?

Alright, I wont Adam Jackson you with 2200 words, I think 1300 is a good spot to stop. Just stop.

Capitalizing off of stupid fucking entry level craft beer fans? Fist bump.

Capitalizing off of stupid fucking entry level craft beer fans? Fist bump.

Dehydrated beer wiped all on my gums, make a white stripe on undergrad skin like a Zebra, I call that shit attenuation fever.


Hill Farmstead Juicy, Super Nintendo Sega Genesis, When my Cellar was Off-Shelf Man I Couldn’t Picture This

Saison marathon wouldn’t be complete without tossing a new upstart that gets no fewer than 10 ISOs a day, the newest club banger out of those Vermont ballers. This is a wine barrel aged New Zealand hopped saison and continues that proud lineage of Norma/Ann/(HF X beer + wine barrel) that seems to consistently deliver. Any way, enough pageantry and Biggie lyrics, Saison Marathon needs to address NEW HIGHLY SOUGHT SAISONS.

Protip: you will probably not find this for sale at any bar.  Don't ask. Don't be that guy.

Protip: you will probably not find this for sale at any bar. Don’t ask. Don’t be that guy.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.40% ABV

A: This has a bit of a deeper bronze/amber aspect than most of the HF molly dropping saison raves that I am used to attending. This may be less of a light show, but still is a foam party nonetheless. The 375ml gushed harder than an overweight woman after a first date. After it finally settled down, the pour was more tame and left little lacing and seemed more watery than I expected, but perhaps the barrel aged treatments provide some working over to the residual sugars, maybe every beer doesn’t need to leave your glass looking like a haunted house, ever think of that?

This is pleasant, yet terrifyingly drinkable.  Approachable, but haunting in execution.

This is pleasant, yet terrifyingly drinkable. Approachable, but haunting in execution.

S: This beer is incredibly interesting in the respect that it approaches citrus from both angles and just chinese finger traps your olfactory. You get this dry musky pineapple meets kiwi sort of fruit profile from the hops, but deep down you know it is that trickster alpha oils trying to lure you into its Econoline van. Then at the same time, you have traditional/acidic aspects more akin to “real” fruits like apricot and lemon from the saison and light lactic aspects. Both nose holes filled, just getting jumped in from rival citrus gangs, tatting juice tears on your cheek.

T: This is drier than I expected, but maybe we should cast our prejudices aside. Maybe being raised in a barrel gave it a predisposition for citrusy violence. “Nature vs. Nurture in the Farmhouse World” is the title of my forthcoming Woman’s Studies Thesis where I explain why there are not enough female eukaryotic in the saison industry. Enough fucking around, this tastes like a brett C profile at the outset, like looking through an old yearbook, trolling for digits, that musky paper taste when you lick her picture, those Tommy Hilfiger overalls in Geometry and when she would sit you could see- wait what. So you get brett and then a nice substantial wheat profile like a Hawaiian roll that is sweet but lingers with a flash of bready grist that subsides into this lemongrass and apricot jamba juice boost on the backend. There isn’t as much juice in this as expected largely due to the dry profile, but it ends up more refined as a result. Maybe that girl from Purdue wasn’t as hot as you had hoped, but she was a anthropology major.

Close your eyes, this saison might remind you of a certain transatlantic phantasm.  Ethereal farmhouse spirits.

Close your eyes, this saison might remind you of a certain transatlantic phantasm. Ethereal farmhouse spirits.

M: This is nowhere near as dry as E. but presents a smattering of elements from a series of the other accomplished entries in the Hill Farmstead catalog. You get this honey aspect that reminds me of Anna, but a sort of substantial wheat aspect that pushes me closer to Arthur, and with loving dryness and light acidity, old Norma watches the fold with loving care, slowly knitting an afghan for the coming Vermont winter. It ends up being a Voltron of several good qualities but not overdoing it on any one area, like playing as Yoshi in Mario Kart. One thing that bothers me is when the uninitiated saison asshole seeks this out because “IS GOOD RATEING!” and complains 1) wut this isn’t sour or 2) saisons are a simple style, etc. Fortunately, if someone is actually drinking this, they likely know what they are in for.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I can see why people wanted multiples of such an exceptional beer. The ABV hides under the porch waiting for citrus mommy and hop daddy to stop fighting. The 375 is almost a punishing format for a beer that disappears this quickly. It would be like if Live Oak finally bottled their Hef and then used 25cl bottles. My room would look like a CRV depository. In sum, another amazing beer from HF that pushes another elegant etching into the arabesque of the saison world. I can’t think of an analog to seek out to emulate this, which is something noteworthy in the beer world.

If this were a larger format, I would be Gucci Mane faded all day long.

If this were a larger format, I would be Gucci Mane faded all day long.

Narrative: Turritopsis nutricula floated lazily in the Chardonnay medium. Barefoot Winery would have never suspected that the salt conditioning of their barrels would contain this prolific common rider, dancing lazily in the fluid. He was a resilient jelly, not insubstantial in grace or refinement. Some would argue that he was out of place in the lower end wine game, but he held a deep secret: NUTRICULA IS ETERNAL. I say that not in the Aristotelian way that he will remain in history forever, he was literally immortal. Whenever the changing tides of acidity or oak would affect him, he would embrace the citrus and float daintily down and respawn buds anew, changing his tissue to embrace the tannins in a new life. He was the lazarus of the depths of abject alcoholism, each time reborn with new strength. This diversity and power came from the polyp, for only by returning to life’s beginnings can one truly apprehend the beauty of a $7 bottle of wine, sometimes the negligent beginning of another life. Turritopsis would wait, elusive, ever changing, fortified by alcohol, oak, and juice; the Tuck Everlasting of the beverage world.