Tag Archives: kuhnhenn

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Kuhnhenn Olde Village Stock Ale, Holy God This is a Complete Trainwreck That Smashed Square into the 4th Dementia Building

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Brewers should be encouraged to experiment.  You wanna put Jicama in a Dortmunder? Fucking go for it.  Peanut butter and Sriacha cask? By all means, you do you.  The one thing brewers should not do is pass off horrible beer as either 1) intentionally sour 2) CUTTING EDGE or 3) a mystified ancient style that they are doing you a favor by unearthing.  This somehow covers a bit of ground in each category.  A SOUR OLD ALE: the style no one has ever asked for, returns to us in today’s review and holy balls is it horrible.

Two years ago, another Michigan brewery tried to pass this shit off on us when Dark Horse dropped their own SOUR OLD ALE> https://dontdrinkbeer.com/2013/02/08/dark-horse-three-guys-off-the-scale-sour-version-apparently-if-you-ruin-beer-you-can-just-call-it-sour-version/

So maybe people who live in bleak perpetual winter most of the year actually like this style, who knows. Let’s fall down the sour staircase and get some internal old ale bleeding in today’s painful review.

Midwest taster glass in full effect, and even that pour was too much.

Midwest taster glass in full effect, and even that pour was too much.

Kuhnhenn Old Village Stock Ale

Sour Old ale (?) 14.2% abv

A:  This looks fine I suppose, you might even squint and trick yourself into believing that this is a regular BB4d, those muddy lakewater notes on full puddle swerve.   The carb is legit for the abv and massive nature of the beer, appearances cant set forth the palate terror to which your facehole will be subject.

Popping this solo before nestling in for a marathon of Franklin and Bash.

Popping this solo before nestling in for a marathon of Franklin and Bash.

S:  At first smell, there is a twinge of hope, caramel, molasses, and OH FUCK IS THAT ROTTING CITRUS? What is going on with my old al- oh god its red wine vinegar, followed by an acetic filthy grapefruit in tow.  The closer is the sweet peanut brittle, albeit dipped in solvent.  You know shit isn’t going to go well from here.

DDB will continue to scour the planet to review shitty beers for your amusement

DDB will continue to scour the planet to review shitty beers for your amusement

T:  Like the reversed call against the poor Cowboys, this shit is a pathetic travesty of a once proud heritage.  How do you pull BB4d down a peg?  This is a fantastic demonstration at how tenuous the life of a beer can be, snuffed out with bacteria and off flavors like an orderly pressing a sour pillow over a struggling patient.  If you loved the creme brulee and toffee aspects of BB4d, wait until you add stomach bile and orange juice burp into the mix.  If you get through half a bottle of this, you should get a text from Guy Fieri for self flaggelation by way of the mouth zone.  Nothing works and you feel like a French soldier shivering in a trench at the battle of the Marne, wondering where the BB4d went, dreaming of times past, thinking about simpler days before everything was ruined.

M:  This is bone dry, crisp and only serves to highlight all of the awful things attendant to the actual flavor.  If a loud venue can make a blind date less creepy, this is a blind date in absolute silence, in a police interrogation room, for your palate.  There is no escape and you are gonna do some hard time.

MFW someone offers me a 14% abv SOUR old ale.

MFW someone offers me a 14% abv SOUR old ale.

D:  I cant really quantify exactly how shitty this is with the adjectives and words at my disposal and I can only LOL that this is classified as a “GOOD” beer on BA.  In fact it has an 84, just one point below The Bros review of Fou Foune.  I am clearly not cicerone enough to appreciate this heap of lukewarm gastritis discharge.

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Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel French Toast Mead, Like Making out with an Escort in an IHOP

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Ok in case the last review did not cotton favor to you and your landlocked state, today is another glowing review of an ambrosial treat from the midwest. This is a decadent treat that should likely be reviewed on http://www.dontdrinkmead.com but sadly that website doesn’t exist. It doesn’t exist for a good reason, mead is delicious and you should always drink it and never not drink it. If you are baller enough to afford rare, expensive meads; and have the palate for them: you are a bad ass and no one should question what you are drinking. Let’s get all buttered up for today’s french toast review.

Representing that D Block crowd so hard. Need mead because it's so cold in the D

Representing that D Block crowd so hard. Need mead because it’s so cold in the D

Kuhnhenn Brewing Company
Mead
16% Abv

A: This pours like a still cider or a riesling. The sheeting is fantastic and the legs are this wave of alcoholic glaze that coats the glass with your future blackout. The bright yellow lucidity of the mead is inviting and just looks decadently sweet to the core.

This is burly, yet cloyingly sweet. Don't act like you dont be wanting it.

This is burly, yet cloyingly sweet. Don’t act like you dont be wanting it.

S: This is staggering on so many levels, complexity and sheer saccharine levels. There is the waft of buttery pecan, maple syrup, cinnamon, baked bread, a sort of toffee sweetness and closes with this oily churro aspect that makes it clear that this beer is not here to fall in line. This beer will ruin you and think nothing of it. The whole smell is like the world’s most baller waffle house. If they would have integrated the smell of Newports and the waft of stripper glitter in the nose, IT WOULD BE LIKE I WAS REALLY THERE.

T: This follows the nose dead on and delivers a sticky sweet blast of butter, pecans, candied almond, bisquik, maple syrup, and a cinnamon close that just ties the whole thing together like a crazy beer from Funky Buddha. This mead takes things far beyond just fermented honey and hits zones way beyond those that are usually encountered in beer profiles. Things get rooty and tooty albeit they are not fresh nor fruity.

Bust out a rare decadent treat, show people you wont be fucked with.

Bust out a rare decadent treat, show people you wont be fucked with.

M: This is sticky and coats with a deep honey aspect, however, the funtime sweetness is burned off as the midday alcohol astringency comes through like a liqueur on the backend, drying up all the loose ends and making you feel MARGARINELY better about this buttery treat you just consumed. This is boozy, buttery, sweet, and hot with alcohol: like most women from Alabama, I assume.

D: This is both impossible to drink, and exceptionally drinkable at the same time due to the abv, sticky sweetness, and just amazingly delicious presentation. You probably COULD drink an entire bottle of this, but I dont know if that is what they were intending when they tossed this bad boy into 375ml bottles. This is meant to be shared so you can later share epipens and check your insulin levels with your buddies. SHARING IS CARING.

It may not be what you are used to, but it is still lovable nonetheless.

It may not be what you are used to, but it is still lovable nonetheless.

Narrative: I am recovering from a diabetic coma, no review today. Just make some shit up about fingerbanging an IHOP waitress or something.

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Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, The Non-Barrel Aged Version Bangs on 808 Drums

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Whenever someone brings up King Henry, I tell them just to drink Kuhnhenn Barleywine. They make delicious things and meads and sweet treats that people who dont live in a state shaped like an oven mitt seem to overlook. Today we look at the less celebrated, but still danky, regular old 4th Dementia.

I used the regular picture for BB4D and now I am using the Bourbon Barrel picture for the regular review, WHOA FREAKY FRIDAY.

Kuhnhenn 4th Dementia Olde Ale, 13.5% abv

A: Nice raisin purplish color with deep amber and brown hues, very minimal carbonation and no lacing. This has always rustled my jimmies about Kuhnhenn beers. When Lost Abbey releases flat beer, everyone loses their shit and makes jpegs for days about it. Kuhnhenn just hangs up their mash paddle and calls it a day. In an Old Ale it really isn’t a big deal, but Road Rash, BB4D, 4D, BBBW, have all been as flat as Keanu Reeves dialogue. Leave Tomme Arthur alone, srsly guize.

When you see someone at a party sipping on a 13.5% abv beer, you know they embrace that tug life.

S: Smells of smoky tobacco and figs. It comes across like someone overboiled a batch of barley wine. There is a mild bourbon note but without the oakiness. The alcohol is well integrated and the charred caramel is good, it reminds me of the time I did a burnout on top of a box of Werthers Originals in my IROC Camaro.

T: There are initially no huge notes to speak of for a split second and then the smoky deep plums and dark fruits rise out of the watery murk and set up Hoovervilles. The taste resounds with a lightly bitter hop balance and just reverberates like church bells in an abbey. When this beer warms up, things become real in and around the field, stone fruits, bruised peaches, plums, figs; it is like Gamgam’s Apotehcary, which is what I will name my Old Ale if I ever brew one.

There’s so much going on in this beer, you may miss the subtle nuances. Give it time.

M: The mouthfeel is surprising light for a beer this huge, also, the booziness is kept to a minimum. It is very impressive that they were able to pull this off with such a strangely balanced imbalance. I mean that the notes are very aggressive and watery at the same time. It doesn’t fill you up and doesn’t have a huge maltiness but manages to coat very aggressively. Nicely done.

D: I never understood the different between aggressive barley wines and olde ales but this is an exceptional example of an “Imperial” Barleywine which is basically an Olde Ale as far as I can tell. Some people will get butthurt and point out differences in the malt bill and the grain profile, start mumbling something about residual sugars but, come on, we all know who you really banging on the side. It has all of the deep dark fruits reduced to a syrupy watery mouthfeel. The taste is very good and it is therefore a pleasure to drink regardless of circumstance, however, the abv is prohibitive and the lingering almost coppery agro deep fruit notes may be difficult over a long session.

You’re expecting one thing, you get something else that is equally awesome, and all the kids need tomato juice baths.

Narrative: “Just chopping and screwing beats all day man, if I aint in the lab, I aint worth nay thin.” DJ4D had an impressive work ethic and remained steadfast in his phillipic against the illusory “haters” that allegedly were constantly holding him back. “They said “yo 4D, you just layed the most savory stickiest flows we ever heard, then I pulled it clean on them and dropped sweet notes right on the treble, see haters hate when you pull of that saccharine shit, they just sit back, judging your sticky crispiness.” The reporter nodded pensively and scribbled furiously, hovering up these gems for his forthcoming article. “THAT’S WHY I PUT THE GRAPEVINE JAMS UP IN THE MIX BECAUSE YOU JUST ALWAYS GOTTA KEEP IT STICKY FOR THE HATERS.” His furrowed brown knitted his fitted cap back; the Expos logo bobbed in concurrence with every statement. None of this made any sense and people would question the death of print media with every word.

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Kuhnhenn Barrel Aged 4th Dementia, The Perfect Beer Prior to a Parent Teacher Conference

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Ah Old Ales, for those times when new ales just aren’t new enough and sobriety just seems like such a hassle. The perfect beverage for right before a Parent Teacher Conference, particularly this barrel aged monster. Well, let’s see if this helps you escape some demons in today’s run into the 4th DEMENTIA.

Barrel Aged Old Ales: No Longer Just For Salty Old Sea Captains and Sobbing Divorcees.

Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel 4th Dementia, 13.5% abv, Old Ale

A: The bottle was almost completely flat with very minimal carbonation that dissipated very quickly with dark khaki bubbles that fizzled like the plot of an Owen Wilson film. The beer looks like a deep dark mahogany treat. The beer leaves this slick alcoholic coating to the edges that is clear but serves as potent reminder of the beast that you are about to wrangle to the earth.

This seems like a deal for all the sweet decadence that you are receiving, but it ultimately does a number on your life.

S: Holy ABV bombs. Not since Chocolate rain and Dark Lord vacated the premises has such a ridiculously boozy beer appeared on the scene. It isn’t that the ABV itself is so high that it is overwhelming cum de Utopias, it is more that the ABV just doesn’t give a shit. It posts up, leaves muddy alcoholic boots in the entryway and proceeds to rifle through the pantry in your nose. It is unabashed and very apparent. This isn’t the regular old 4th Dementia that I recalled., this is it’s alcoholic brother. I kinda like him more, in a weird way. There’s also some vanilla, toffee and mild figs but, covered in bourbon.

T: Again, don’t smoke while drinking this beer, the abv will ignite and BOY WILL YOUR FACE BE RED. This has an intense bourbon heat at the outset that fades into a deep sweetness and plum maltiness. The vanilla and chocolate is present and lends some complexity with all the oak and dry notes that round out this crazy chimera. Also, alcohol.

Again, this beer is both sinister and sweet. Sticky and evil at the same time. Pic related.

M: This has a hot slickness to it similar to a baby chocolate rain, chocolate drizzle if you will. The bourbon hit’s the gum line and warms your chest not unlike a salt shell from a 12 gauge. The mouth doesn’t really coat in a huge way like an imperial stout, this crazy hybrid feels like a Belgian Dubbel gone on a bender rampage. For a sipping beer, this is nice and relaxing. Also, not that it would really matter but, the lack of carbonation just made the angry abv even more rampant. My mouth was left pleading to the police that he didn’t mean it, and assured them that this beer was a “good one” and that it did not wish to press charges.

D: This is hardly drinkable in the 12oz format and, if they offered bombers that would be remiss to not offer a life insurance policy with it. The average user couldn’t take on this beast, and the average craft kid would likely feel that it was too boozy. The lack of carbonation made it all the more apparent that this beer is not here for you, it is present to shirk the trappings of a normal life. I have to knock this beer on the drink ability and overall overwhelming nature of the bourbon notes. If I wanted to kiss a Kentucky trucker, I JUST WOULD GO AND DO IT OK.

Drink one of these at 2 a.m., the sky is the limit.

Narrative: No matter how often he strayed from the straight and narrow, Clemson Biggs knew that he would somehow end up ok. “Hey, uh, Clem, we noticed that you went and vomited all over the side of your freightliner, again.” Clem pushed back the bill of his worn Bill Earnhardt Jr hat, with the Jr. scrawled out. “Oh, I’m SSSSORRY! I thought this was Darlene’s Coffee sop, I didn’t know we were in the DMVs! Hold on let me check for the illegal of BEING THE FLU!” His drawl was overwhelming and the booze on his breath was palpable. “Well Clem, it’s just, we know you are hauling ethanol and industrial chemicals on up to Truckee and, well that’s a long haul, why not give it a rest hun?” Darlene looked over her note pad and tapped her pen entreatingly. “OH OK, how about I jus never do any OF THE WORK? Oh suuuuuuuuure, everyone hey listen DARLENE will do your works and we just made in the shad-” he slipped out of the booth and knocked over a cardboard cut out of Tony Stewart. “I AM SICK OK? Just gotta get some medicine and then I can make that lil 450 mile drive and then, how abouts, this, YOU SHHHHHUT up?” he cackled to himself at the apparent clever quip that he had just crafted, much to Darlene’s chagrin. “God, when he is good he’s great but, it is just painful to see him this boozed up,” Darlene thought to herself. “Here, slice of apple pie, on the house,” she said as she slid him a piece of mediocre pie. “HOW ABOUT THE PIE HOUS-blarghhhhh!!!” Clem’s gem of insight was interrupted by his own projectile vomiting.

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Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel Barley Wine, Michigan Doesn’t Mess Around With Cold Winters, 15.1% abv

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This beer has a huge following from all of those crazy barleywine kids that always get jazzed about anything that gets tossed in a top notch bourbon barrel. PSH. Actually the venn diagram of my life is subsumed by a good penumbra of that diagram, for those visually inclined. I LIKE THIS STYLE. I hope I like this too, seems pretty legit.

Don't adjust your monitor, this beer is flatter than the plot arch in an M. Night Shamylan movie. The twist is you wake up with no credit card.

Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel Barley Wine, Barleywine 15.1% abv, 2010 vintage

A: It looks like iced tea. That’s it. Like it seriously looks like the free drink you get at the Old Spaghetti Factory. The lacing is nominal like a hug from a stripper after cash has changed hands. It sits there tepid and sad, wondering where its mother barleywine is, longing for the warm comfort of the barrel it loved. No lacing, not jack shit.

When you fuck with the barley, you get the wine.

S: Oh well, shit. All the hating I just did comes full circle immediately after smelling this. It is brown sugar, sweet macaroon, toffee, mild clove, maple syrup and fresh waffle. It smells incredible. It is like a decadent alcoholic dessert to take in. The lackluster appearance is a complete wash at this point. Just amazing.

T: It doesn’t go as sweet as the nose would suggest and hits initially with a warming flat metallic note that quickly changes its tune into a candy bitterness like a caramel coated leaf and then warms gently into a bourbon den of iniquity. After the first few sips, it becomes apparent that this is meant to be shared, even in a 12oz format. At the end there’s a huge oakiness like that woody finish that I hate from Hair of the Dog and encountered with the 4th Dimentia. It is definitely an intentional stylistic decision and I just dont think that I am on board.

This beer reminds me of something old, angry, irascible, and hateful.

M: This has a mild slick watery coating that marches through and burns shit like General Sherman. Railroad rails are tied around trees. Nothing is spared and your antebellum palate is destroyed toe to tip. It reminds me of in Civilization where you could develop a single unit to completely leevel the entire Babylonian civilization, this is that little beer that is a nuke underneath.

D: Well, read that last paragraph and ask yourself if you would be down to put up with that. I am letting it warm and the bitter beginning with the fireball finish makes this a clip cloppy recalcitrant colt that will not be tamed. I tug at the malty horsebit but it will not be broken, this alcholic beast is a dominator.

After just 12oz of this you wont know what exactly happened, but you might like it that way.

Narrative: Jayden ground his teeth and surveyed the recess playground. “Pussies, each and every one of them, part and parcel” he noted to Jeffrey who was busy counting the Lunchables spoils. Jayden was an anomaly lab child created by a hopeful lesbian love union, the results were not as desired. Jayden grew uninhibited without the constraints of a plcental wall and was a statuesque 5′ tall at age 9 and had the cerebral capacity of a zygote fed pure synthetic nutrition. They had developed the super bully. Having two mothers fed his insecurities and his rage. It wasn’t so much the teasing from the other children, for they regarded him as a stoic golem, not to be pestered. He was upset with the draconian North Dakota laws, which forbade domestic partnerships. Bullying was his craft and vent. “OH OH OH, hey, Golding, come here one more time, your Yu Gi Oh deck, is fucking mine.” It was a troublesome existence, but he financed a civil rights group with his hateful conduct. It was the irony of a filthy hand washing a calloused hand. He flipped a salami piece into his gullet and ground it with his new permanent teeth. “Hunter is a complete fag” he quipped without the mildest sense of irony.

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Kuhnhenn Raspberry Eisbock, Rocking So Much Eisbock in the Club, So Eised Out, Yo Eisenberg, Bock Up.

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haha holy shit. i found this draft of a review from 2011. here you go:

By this point, you prolly are all like, “DAMN HOW MANY MORE TOP 100 beers did he review? Why do I even care tho? Am I clearly a rhetorical device?” yes. you are. So this angry little 7oz bottle of rage is a sticky raspberry euthanizer. It is a messy job but someone has to do it to keep you from seeking out these beers, I don’t relish my yoke, es un yoke.

Sticky icky oooo weee, put it in the air. The wash aint just soaps and suds, you a fool for this one Kuhnhennnnnnn- RASPBERRY REEEEMIXXXXX

Kuhnhenn Raspberry Eisbock, 13.5% abv

A: This beer has a deep ruby tone to it with mild maroon tones at the edges. The whole thing has a sticky murkiness to it like a decadent muddy quad, but with more of a feminine glow to it. The carbonation is almost non-existent and mild tiny bubbles form at the surface but like the laughs in an Adam Sandler movie, they are faint and gone far too soon.

This beer is very sweet, but at 13.5% abv, it creeps me out.

S: This is a huge raspberry bomb similar to Framboise De Amarosa. There is a citric acidity and a deep fruit tone on the backend of this beer. The abv shines through and lets it be known that some serious booziness is about to go down. The 7oz bottle is a perfect serving size for a beer that is this violent. At the finish there’s a deep chocolate smell to it that seems almost uninvited, but welcome nonetheless. What was I wearing? Why is that relevant to this complaint, this beer raped my mouth ok?

T: This has a sharp tartness to the front of it that quickly subsides into a deep grape juice flavor. It reminds me of the deep purple Juicy Juice that I had as a kid, or maybe my parents just served me 13.5% abv Eisbock, WE MAY NEVER KNOW. Notwithstanding, all of these fruit notes should be interpreted on the canvas of a deep chocolate and malty base beer that presents a strange scaffolding from which the raspberry bodies are buried. At the finality of the deep maltiness the raspberries come back for a moment just to give you a quick sour shot to the stones. A very enjoyable beer, albeit incredibly strange.

I am not sure what this beer is exactly FOR, but I enjoy it, SORTA.

M: This has a thick malty mouthfeel to it like a chocolately quad but without the big dark fruits getting all pitted up in the mix. It expands and coats impressively like some cough syrup from a negligent ass pediatrician. The lack of carbonation makes this feel sticky and medicinal, which strangely feels appropriate.

D: This suffers in this category simply because this beer is too big for its own raspberry britches. The abv monster, coupled with the crazy acidity, with the lack of carbonation makes this feel like more of a serum to be administered judiciously rather than casually knocked back. Even working through the baleful wax was a task in itself. Again, this isn’t an average beer, it is exceptional, but not one that I would keep in full rotation. This is the type of beer that non-craft people will point to and say “Look at the type of stuff this guy is into!: with derision. Their jeers will resound through the hallways. YOU WILL GET YOUR RASPBERRY REVENGE ON THEM ALL.

This beer tests my patience, but results in a mild treat.

Narrative: The school bell of the gulag had a strange E minor tone to it. It underscored the deep darkness of the work camp that had been deemed an educational institute. “Svedsky! Join us for lunch!” the other children cried and motioned for him to sit with them amongst some dilapidated industrial equipment. “What do you have in your abiEt sack bubushka?” Svedsky resented the other children’s ironic names for him and clenched his jaw and slowly opened his abiet sack. He knew what he would have, so did all of the other little Oliver Twists in the lunch circle. Sevdsky had the same lunch as he had always had. He poured the contents into a silk handkerchief and the children resounded with laughter. “OLD SVEDSKY HAS THE MALINA AGAIN! ALWAYS THE MALINA!” It was indeed malina, an entire pound of raspberries. It was garnished with a piece of hard tack bread but, it was malina all the way through. His brow lowered and his palate was bitter as was his soul as the deep ridicule that he was subjected to. “Hey Sevdsky? Why so quiet? Care to trade for my shuba? JUST KIDDING FOR I WANT NONE OF YOUR MALINAS!” Oh how they rejoiced at his tart pain. The fire burned in his chest and his hatred went unrequited.