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@hillfarmstead Elaborative, These Walnuts Be Gaspin These Tickers Ain’t Ready For Action

If you want to make beer nerds pass out from the blood rushing to their inner thigh sweat glands: 1) release a collaboration beer that hits two midcontinent hot spots 2) add an adjunct to it (walnut beans) 3) release it in Vermont 4) make it 1 per person. Oh shit, if you listen you can hear the flapping shut of labias like firefly wings. It is Horace incarnate the way that beer nerds lose their fucking minds over prospective tasting. I love when beer nerds give up amazing beers they havent tried for another amazing beer that they haven’t had yet. The lulz that I reaped were on the swords to plowshares level when the BA Kopi for Cherry Rye trades were going down. Later I saw people giving up T25 for MS3000 and wiped my brow with a calm collection and noted the disparity. Long story short, people want this shit. They jockin on them Chad/Shaun nutssszzzz of the WAL variety. Let’s see if Jackie O’s distributed this to 300 employees and ruined shit.

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn't stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

This beer is not elaborate, but that doesn’t stop its elaborating/pontificating/oud bruin hatin

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV ?

Availability: Limited (brewed once). bottle (4), on-tap (1).

Notes:
Tart Brown Ale brewed with Ohio Walnuts. Aged 18 months in a variety of oak barrels… in friendship with Brad at Jackie O’s and Chad at Crooked Stave.

A: Alright hold onto your lifeless squatless asscheeks, this beer is dark, has a mahogany sheen to it like an Oud Bruin and wispy lil 1/1 Black Mana Will of the Wisp that fades with a khaki collar like a Fubu 3 piece suit. Shit is basically the ESPY awards with more lacing. Even Reggie Bush would think this was over the top.

AHHH no wayyy you are 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

AHHH no wayyy you and 13 of your Iowa suburb friends teamed up and landed a bottle of this? SICK YOU ARE BROS FOR LYFEEE

S: This reminds me of Oud Bruins for dayzzz, some will disagree as is their right but the nuttiness is only present at mid 60 degrees. It is more of a currant and light lemon aspect meets a huge porter/roast zeitgeist. Let’s take it back to the first party when you tried your first Molly, before you were sippin Rodenbach and not givin a fuck, them Oud Bruins would hit you hard like Kimbo Slice. This leaves that almond tannin aspect in your nose but a tart black chery shasta aspect mixing with it. I am not going to say 6th grade sleepover, but SNES may be involved.

T: The other 5 people who reviewed this are full of shit for the most part. Let’s just put that out there. There is no walnut going on for the most part. If you start rubbing your nips expecting nuts, keep expecting. This is like how Jackie O’s released NUT and you were like “THIS DARK APPARITION SUCKS.” It is like that, except they nailed their nut onto Prolegomena. You expect this shit to have lambo doors and wild out with deep roast and tartness, but the walnut just nods its head in 2/4 as a support character lending more gumline tannic dryness than some Funky Buddha hardcore adjuncty busted nuts. You get some black cherry but the roast kinda works the door akin to CD4 aka the most underappeciated fucking beer ever. It’s not really sour, its not really tart, its not really a creamy Oud Bruin either. It is kinda like a Ford Flex where you feel like you could use it but you aren’t sure how.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

Many glasses were raised, well really just mine since I drank it alone in sadness watching HEAT, anyone wanna talk about that movie? ok cool.

M: This has that hard as fuck water profile that Hill Farmstead imparts with that bizarre carbonation that levels motherfuckers with a balanced creaminess. That aspect blows me away every time and almost pisses me off. It is like the Coca Cola recipe for mouthfeel and they kill it every time. Even when they “fail” with beers like Jimmy, which I disliked, they still smash it on olfactory and mouthfeel and its still wordclass and has what linguists call “A method of intentionality.” I can’t dislike this beer simply because it is well done. I don’t like the Camaro SS redesign but, god damn it, 420 horsepower and the engineering is hard to disagree with. Even if this isnt as sour or nut laden as you wanted, it is still fucking awesome.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and the ABV is a punchline to a joke that your dry cleaners will tell you later. The one two punch of tart and deep roast just washes hand over hand and your glass is empty. Take out your detective kit and look closely, I drank the whole bottle to myself and my acorn penis got full sensation. Every other bullshit site will show some 1oz forced perspective like Fritz Lang. I dont’ even know why I bother comparing DDB to other sites, this shit has no peers, lezbiahonest.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it...doesn't feel that good.

Sometimes you look back on your record of ticking beers and it…doesn’t feel that good.

Narrative: Lucretius paced wildly in his limestone cell, awaiting his fate with a tenuous repose. “For all reduces to matter, there is no soul, only one unity in matter, but getting killed for this would seriously fucking suck” he muttered to himself while rehashing a series of Hellenic hexameters in solitude. The comforts of atomism were reductionist at best. He ran his palms against the cool stones of his cell and licked the walnut residue from his gums, embracing his fits of “habit”: counting the tiles, recounting Gallic encounters with specificity, and espousing proto-materialist doctrine. Everyone was pretty fucking sick of listening to him. The forum was crowded with plebian well wishers and Lucretius provided little in the way of new gods or old. He was a synthesis that was easy to embrace, however, it did not provide a deeper clarity to any real problems an individual was seeking. It was a far cry from the Legumes of Pythagoras, but his existential hopelessness did little to rouse a pre-Octvaian world. Synthesis alone was not comfort, execution and mastery was only revered with Cicero, the pangloss nature of Cato was all that he could hold on to. For some it was enough, but those were the same Praetorian that did not need it in the first place. Many nuts were busted in that cell.

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The Bruery, 100% Bourbon Barrel Aged Autumn Maple, 13% abv

Autumn Never Seemed so Good

This is Autumn for People Escaping Autumns Past.

Happy Halloween, enjoy this homage to coping with fall.

The Bruery 100% Bourbon Barrel Aged Autumn Maple, Brown Ale/Vegetable Beer 13% abv.

A: This beer has a creamy deep amber tone to it with some delicate lacing that is frothing and tiny. Just like the polluted Ohio river that you enjoyed so much as a child. The carbonation maintains throughout and generates some nice sticky lacing. It makes one abundantly thankful, ba dum tish.

S: This beer has to have been made by Willy Wonka, in summation, the schnozberries smell, well you know. This is pumpkin pie in a glass. I am not being glib, this is seriously like a shot of nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon, coriander, pie crust, biscuity goodness in a glass. I realize this beer is made with yams, but it is intense and overpowering in a good way. At the back end a boozy bourbon note dominates and makes it feel like, the end of Thanksgiving, when people say what they feel. You know, that part of Thanksgiving. Oh Nana.

T: This has a nice frothy maltiness at the outset with pumpkin, yam, and honey tone to it. The oakiness sets in at the back end like a watchful chaperone and nods to the bourbon warmth that rounds things out to a nice warmth. There is a faint hit of vanilla but with all the spices going on, you are lucky to leave with your wallet and your pallet’s dignity.

M: This has a mid-range frothiness that isn’t overly expansive and generates a nice coating. The tastes are so complex that you are left bewildered by the onslaught too much to think about the details. It’s like the screenplay to Inception where there’s just lots of cerebral nonsense taking place and you don’t question the basics.

D: This is hot, sticky, boozy, spicy, and strange: but I want more of it. This is thick, too thick to session but delicious enough to have several servings of. Paradoxes abound when you decide to drink pumpkin pies in a glass. Live on the edge, watch The Perfect Storm by yourself and try not to cry. That kind of shit.

Narrative: At the heart of it, Smilestrine Grimstare was a shitty Grim Reaper. It’s not that he was bad at claiming souls, on an administratively level, he was incredible at collecting and sorting souls. The problem was those damn 3 autumn months that just warmed his black heart. How many times had he showed up at the Thanksgiving dinner with a hateful disposition, ready to rip the life from grandpa, when he smelt that sweet biscuity pumpkin pie. No, Smilestrine was not a heartless reaper, he just loved the holiday’s too much for that. Once his vengeful scepter was about to claim the life of a child in a cancer ward, that pile of leaves was left there almost intentionally. His robe dragged playfully through the maple, pine, and ash landscape, leaving leaf angels in his wake. “Blow out your candles Great Uncle Earl! That’s 103 Halloweens on the face of this Earth!” the family exclaimed as Mr. Grimstare knocked his head back and savored the burnt hickory scents. Death could wait with pies this succulent.