Tag Archives: lost abbey

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Veritas 016 Sprayed like a Frightened Wild Ale Skunk but Does it Bang?

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Alright, if you talk to some 2014 class n00b-tier trader they will tell you “v16 ZOMG IT’S FRUITED DDG!!!” but what’s the real deal?

v16

First and foremost, this is far closer to Spontaneous Cheer than DDG in that it lacks the musky Doesjel/dusty/cheesy/earthy/Herfst aspects.  That being said, that doesn’t mean that this doesn’t take headshots and grab fruity dogtags: the kills are confirmed, this is loud AF.

This provides acidity that never becomes too tart or overbearing, a nice lemon zest with a fruity backbone that is more of a fleshy tannic presence on the waft and swallow than an unmetabolized jammy marmalade. Something that would have been amazing in veritas 10 or particularly vertias 12: YOU CAN ACTUALLY DRINK AN ENTIRE BOTTLE YOURSELF.  Assuming you dont lose a third of it after you open it.  The barrel is seamlessly integrated as is the abv and this is a slightly more puckering version of the inimitable Persica b1.

The peaches are a great compliment to the base beer that I already loved.  The golden heritage continues unmolested with a crown jewel, which means that we are in for some stupid 14% abv oud bruin as Veritas 17, EVERY TIME.

This is absolutely worth your time and it is trading at hilariously low levels at the moment.  If you have a hilarious chili Prop to flip, transmogrify it into something amazing before those CA dipshits are the wiser.

 

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@lostabbey Isabelle Proximus, Dat Izzy on the Codeine Fizzy Make Tickers Straight Dizzy

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Alright since we are slaying whalez, might as well gut the massive heart out of this cetacean beast and lay another one of these AWA monsters to rest. You probably don’t recognize this beer without ISO: in front of it and some shit like FT: HUNA following it, but this acidic banger is izzy prox, aka dat 6/28/08 birth that rocked balloon knots back before people knew what a folding chair release was. These 1620 bottles still live on in people’s hearts and dreams but most in OCD hater tickers nightmares. When this was rolled out in 2008, that $30 price tag puckered many-an-O-ring, now we just call that shit Battle Priest and go back to work on a Tuesday. Anyway, let’s mouthkiss this lady and see if she shows her age.

Mouthkissing that 6 year old lady, Molly coming out of your pores, posted top floor in a 3100 sf vegas penthouse trying to get rid of your stretch marks.

Mouthkissing that 6 year old lady, Molly coming out of your pores, posted top floor in a 3100 sf vegas penthouse trying to get rid of your stretch marks.

The Lost Abbey visit their website
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

If you don’t know about this shit, here, read this and let the rest of us get on with our lives. Let’s hope your offshelf liver can keep up:

A collaboration between five of America’s best craft brewers – Tomme Arthur of Port Brewing / The Lost Abbey, Adam Avery of Avery Brewing, Sam Calagione of Dogfish Head, Vinnie Cilurzo of Russian River, and RobTod of Allagash – Isabelle was created from a common base beer to which each brewery contributed a yeast strain and barrels for aging. After 16 months in oak, the beers were blended to create the final product.

A: To be honest, Izzy is not a particularly beautiful or bubbly woman. Perhaps she has lost a touch of grace in her old age but there is a deep amber meets pyrite sort of glow to her but it is nowhere in the realm of those OGV curves or even a radiant Brute finish. Of course it might have been those baleful gold tinted windows but I took her into the bathroom to more carefully- nevermind, just, ok next section.

Izzy is a savage beast that most acorn penises will see in their worst nightmares

Izzy is a savage beast that most acorn penises will see in their worst nightmares

S: This smells like a shitload of tart movie candies smashed up and then mixed up in blender with peach juice and limonata. There is a peach ring, apple ring, sour patch kids, tangelo, an acidic middle body to it that is almost nectarine/stone fruit in a way but then gets back to the Harvey Dent face melting fruits on the finish. You could huff this all day if you were a well connected 13 year old. Huffing is for 13 year olds only.

T: This kicks down your sweet zones and breaches the perimeter with a lemon/grapefruit flashbang and lights up the elite tastebud guard with a fucking SMG popping off apricot and kumquat shells. There is kum everywhere. There is a single quivering child tastebud left in the bitter zone left unharmed, to tell the others who did this. The hateful siege is complete and that lingering lemonheads taste makes you want to take another sip. It’s like how you leave the movie theater with pounding ass kankersores and you aren’t sure if it was the 300g of sugar you just ate, the salt, or the clearly HSV chick you were necking on. Life is a sour mystery.

Mmm cant wait for those Unemployment Bennies to pay out so I can pay these fedex billzzzz

Mmm cant wait for those Unemployment Bennies to pay out so I can pay these fedex billzzzz

M: Well see above, this shit is painful in a way that even the most hurtful Belgians could not engineer. It took some American access codes and ramp up the pH levels and I am sure at least a few brewers were kicked through some boxes when prompted for the access codes to this SOUR WARHEAD. Oh wow, if puns were jizz I would be a 14 year old home on a sick day. But seriously, this is exceptionally dry and just hits those bicuspids harder than Steve Buscemi’s orthodontist. If this beer were a lady she would be Anna Paquin because your grill will be fucked after you skull this. I drank full pours of this side by side with Armand and Tomme and pound my anoos if this wasn’t straight peroxide next to that gentle Belgian mama bird.

D: This is probably the closest American Wild Ale that I have had to a straight Belgian gueuze but like everything else from America it strolls out with amped up DD sour tatties, tart pumped up duck lips, musky tummy tuck, every aspect of it is overdone in an amazing Spearmint Rhino sort of way. I drank almost this entire bottle like a complete fuck out of a Martini glass and I never once was like “ooh that’s plenty.” I had mean ass ulcers afterward, I am sure. But tiring of Izzy is like paying for an escort just to beat her ass in Call of Duty. No one does that.

WOA BRO you drank a rare bottle of beer BY YURSELF? Alfa as fuckkk.

WOA BRO you drank a rare bottle of beer BY YURSELF? Alfa as fuckkk.

Narrative: Izzy Arthur decided at age 15 that she had enough of the Deliverance church services that she had attended for years. Sure, for a child, people wretching and rolling in the aisles had a note of noble bitterness to it. However, after years and years of this behavior, the sad rancor in the room was just an overriding malaise. “ALL OF YOU CAEIUFH WREGHHHH BERRRRR!!!!” Izzy sighed as she held down a middle aged woman down with an outstretched blanket as she expelled her demons. “Wreghhhbleghhh-” to her right, the local librarian gagged and spit into a paper sack. Sure, it wasn’t the AVERAGE triumph of good over evil, but in the end it was still a type of grassy purity that came from a solid agrarian community. It was this deeply acidic character and complex inner monologue that made Izzy so strong. A local mechanic burst into the building covered in lemon juice holding two anacondas offering up a pithy prophecy “And until the BLERGHGHHA norway titans cannot UNTIL GEHHHHHIIHHH IN OUR LORDS NAME!” Izzy popped a Shocktart into her mouth and soldiered on with an austerely regal posture.

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Lost Abbey Acquires Dozens of Tequila Barrels With Hopes to Get People To “Absolutely Fucking Quit Buying Beer.”

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LOST ABBEY

SAN MARCOS, CA

Exciting new developments are abuzz at the Lost Abbey brewing facility today as workers feverishly stack newly sourced Tequila barrels from Tequila 30-30, a local distillery. Avid beer connoisseurs have been coming by the brewery regularly to watch a filthy potation go into even-more wretched barrels. “We are hoping to brew a strong ale on agave aged in Tequila barrels. The intent here was to put something together that would cripple the beer buying industry for years to come and release a landmark brew that no one could seriously agree was worth a vial of dog shit,” Tomme Arthur declared as he poured gallons of agave nectar right into the boil.

Local beer enthusiasts were still reeling from the recent Sede Vacante release and expressed even more excitement about the forthcoming release. “I hope that it is horrible, like worse than undrinkable,” San Marcos local, Chase Eddinger, declared. “I was kinda unsure after paying $35 for a bottle of a dead flat barleywine last weekend, but, I am hoping this next beer will make me hate all beer altogether.” The Lost Abbey staff met Thursday to discuss potential options to completely halt the sale of high end beverages and drew the conclusion that the fusion of a horrible tepid base beer aged on Tequila oak would be just the right path for the second fiscal quarter.

“We have been working tirelessly to make sure people stop buying not just our beer, but completely quit beer in general,” marketing manager, William Koning noted, “after releasing a $450 Guitar Center box filled with questionable blends, we alienated our poorest customers, now 2013 is dedicated almost entirely to ‘Operation Palate Genocide’ and this new Tequila blend looks to be entirely on mark for our goals.” The elaborate marketing plan was enacted in early 2012 to cut down on the number of customers entering the craft beer hobby and to ensure a viable future for reviewers and collectors alike.

“We said to ourselves, ‘Hey people love Duck Duck Gooze, they really liked Cable Car Kriek, we really gotta amp down quality, raise prices and get rid of some of these would-be consumers,” William Koning noted while demonstrating the anomalously soaring profits on a white board. “We want craft beer to be around for a long time, we can’t expand to meet demand, so making people think craft beer is a complete joke and/or waste of time was really the only viable option for the industry.”

Lost Abbey employees were seen hollowing out ripe gourds at press time and filling them with Riunite Lambrusco for an upcoming $50/bottle, 24 per person limit beer, release date to be announced. “We really stopped asking questions sometime around 2011, they know what’s best for the industry,” assistant brewer Michael Wilkerson commented while washing inexpensive Italian wine off of his forearms, “I don’t even drink beer anymore, and hopefully other people will be able to share that joy when they taste the fruits of our hard labor.”

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2012 Lost Abbey Cable Car, Bottles Keep Getting Younger and I Stay the Same Ag-…Fuck. Nevermind.

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Alright, in the interest of complete whaling thoroughness I will review this 2012 Cable Car, the old dark horse in the lineup. About 3 months ago, a bunch of shitmouths all went down to Toronado and split a vert of the bottles like 43 ways based on what I saw on Untappd. Anyway, so we have a shitload of Cable Car experts now. Everyone was pushing their dicks into reubens talking about how this beer was chlorine and OMG THE WERST. So, hating that stepchild 2010 CC, I wanted to see what the business was. I dropped the $50 and skulled this shit, like a responsible reviewer.

OH SHIT POSTING THE SAME PIC THREE TIMES FOR ULTRA HITS, dinner is on me.

OH SHIT POSTING THE SAME PIC THREE TIMES FOR ULTRA HITS, dinner is on me.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: The carb on this one lies somewhere in between the 2008 (Keira Knightley flat) and 2010 (Natalie Portman tits.) It is filling cups, but not with excitement. You get some wispy crackling but it remains about a step about Doesjel and some old ass lambics in this regard. I asked for a dirtier glass to boost nucleation levels but they wouldn’t comply. The cling is minimal, the sheeting is non-existent and it kinda looks like a Dortmunder with deep gold hues, the darkest Cable Car I have seen since that cherry afterbirth apotheosis version.

LOL the cat is speaking Belgian! but the cat is secretly American.

LOL the cat is speaking Belgian! but the cat is secretly American.

S: There is a lemon zest, but more akin to super fresh farmers market steeze, like zested on a grater with a slight salinity in the air. You get tangelo, mango, white grape, and hard persimmon. This is all to be appreciated against the backdrop of high acidity that is really more tart than it is straight up Upland Lambic sour. I get a little bit of a muskiness like a gose on the finish that a shiteater might mistake for some kind of chlorine, provided you were completely fucking high on paint fumes, or if you got a sick .9oz pour. Either way.

T: This follows through with that classy musk of Cable Car 2010, light cheesiness, but with that delicious acidity and fruitiness that reminded me of the 2008. Again this is a hybrid of those two years and takes a bit from each and improves upon it, like Mylie Cyrus, a voltron of acrimonious cuntery. That is the name of my acoustic Aphex Twin cover band, Acrimonious Cuntery. Come see us in Connecticut. Anyway, so you get a chardonnay without the drying, a sort of nectarine and tart lychee finish to it, butressed again with this light salinity. I disagree on the chlorine/pool water/salt douche comments that some people were making. If you have banged a few Leipzig hoes you will know all about that light saltiness on your knuckles/wrist.

This beer is refined yet filthy at the same time, like Ke$ha in a pantsuit.

This beer is refined yet filthy at the same time, like Ke$ha in a pantsuit.

M: This is the meanest leanest cleanest (Ciara got sex appeal) mouth feel that I have had in a Cable Car to date. As a result you dont get that lingering dryness, you don’t get the oakiness dryfucking your bitter zones. What you do get is a light juiciness that is incredibly refreshing, closer in execution to a super lactic Berliner, really. This is a welcome spin and would be more at home in hotter weather, migrant worker sweatshops, etc. I need my American Apparrel jeans made in Downtown LA by non-Americans, for unamerican wages, drinking American beers inspired by Belgian styles. SOURS, MIXED RACE MODELS AND HIGH FASHION.

D: This is off the charts drinkable and for the $/oz you are taking it right down the shaft like a chlamydia test. It is seriously disheartening how fast it disappears. You lose a bit on the dryness that reigns this shit in, but as a result it is more approachable and awesome. You know how a Fender Telecaster has that short neck for ladyhands, perfect for playing Wonderwall and getting those EXPRESS thongs off, but you can’t do sick ass shredding. Then again, sometimes you dont want Dragonforce melting your face, sometimes you want a Night Court marathon to relax to. The people who like this Cable Car best are those contrarian assholes who say that JACKIE BROWN WAS TARANTINO’S BEST WORK NUANCED AND MOST PEOPLE DONT GET IT. I get it, this Cable Car is slowly, subtle, and doesn’t blow anyones fucking head off. Better than 2010, but that’s about it. That’s kinda like big leaguing on the kid who lives in Section 8 housing with his aunt though.

Pop open a $50 bottle of world class beer, put on those jammy jams, and get to chillin.

Pop open a $50 bottle of world class beer, put on those jammy jams, and get to chillin.

Narrative: “Ring a clink dernk-” the chimes rang in an off-minor fashion. The city had never approved the financing for the business improvement district and as a result the downtown trolley had fallen into woeful disrepair. It only ran from Fashion Bug to Little Samoa and usually smelled like curry. The seats were all worn and someone spraypainted “NIKO IS A SHITDICK” on the side of the trolly 3 months ago and it was never addressed. To be fair, Niko was a shit dick though. The passengers were supposed to get this whiff of nostalgia, like they were living in the gilded age of oppressive factories and limited social benefits, but instead they lived in the modern times where corporations were just doling out high wages and benefits. It had seen the marks of time and it made some of the Matlock watching passengers smile, but to the average person it was a blemish in the heritage of public transportation and Cable Cars in general. A guy in an ECKO jacket sat in the back row with his clearly underaged girlfriend and rode to the end of the line, Fashion Bug and depression for all riders.

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2010 Lost Abbey Cable Car, The Worst Year of Them All is Still Better Than Most All Other Beers

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Alright back down to business, fucking eastern europeans and slaying onsite only walez. This vintage is the one most people have the most complaints about, good ole 2010. When I say most people, I mean “prissy fucking beer nerds” you know, the guys who look like lumberjacks but watch Deep Space Nine, those kinda people. So everyone loves 2009, 08 has a great character, 07 is the famous wale, and kriek is a monster on its own, but what about this asshole, the 2010? Well, let’s pick this shitbasket apart in today’s review.

Back in 2010 you were still working on that GED

Back in 2010 you were still working on that GED

The Lost Abbey
California, United States

Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This is pretty similar to the other cable cars in the trolley lineup, deep orange hues, some amber at the center and dark yellowing at the edges. This is the darkest of the Cable Cars that I have had, but still delivers on carbonation and lacing. So if you are the tired ass jokester making Kentucky/Rare jokes and Three Floyd’s burned down fucking quips, look, a carbonated Lost Abbey beer, go watch Paul Reiser standup.

Here to slay walez and amuse the fuck out of you. SING ME A SONG DDB.

Here to slay walez and amuse the fuck out of you. SING ME A SONG DDB.

S: This has a nice lactic waft of peaches and apricots at the outset but something is slightly amiss at the backend, a type of lavender/grassy aspect is on the back end and I really cant place it as a hoppy presence because it doesn’t quite seem vegetal, it is almost like something from Bed Bath and Beyond or some weird shit. That aspect is why this is like the jankiest Ferrari on the lot, that is the Cable Car lineup. Also, this one comes the closest on delivering a true overseas full Belgian prostitute completion. The waft has this mushroom meets crushed yard trimmings funkiness to it that the other sour patch kids do not have. It is more complex, but flawed as a result. Think of the musk in Doesjel if you need clarification.

T: This imparts that tart acidity that was expected, but also drops a nice cheesy/leather aspect when it finishes. You get a bonus deal of fruits and some dairy, if you know what I am saying. If you don’t, you are at the wrong fucking website, go try reddit.com/beer or some other shit. I like the nectarine going on but again that bitter earthy finish makes this my least favorite of the san francisco treats.

Pop a Cable Car. Pick up chicks.

Pop a Cable Car. Pick up chicks.

M: This is extremely dry, but also funky that leaves this lingering bitterness as well. If you can imagine an imperial glass of chardonnay paired with a semisoft cheese, that is the mouthfeel through and through. Some people like it, other people jack off to Lena Dunham. I am not here to tell you what to crank it to.

D: This is, despite its faults, actually one of the more drinkable Cable Cars because of the complexity and it ratchets back the acidity. Hell, maybe it balances it out, I am not a chemist. At any rate, the end product is something like buying a Z4, it is still very nice, but for the money and effort there are far better offerings in both Cable Car and other breweries alike. If you just want to be a completionist and get the tick, this one should be the easiest to lock down. If you are seeking a 2007, good fucking luck, you will need to bust out Bolt Cutter or some serious walez for that.

When people make fun of you for only having the 2010 CC vintage be like-

When people make fun of you for only having the 2010 CC vintage be like-

Narrative: Paul’s Toyota Supra Dealership in Billings, Montana wasn’t the best business entity from the get go. Paul Sharpe knew that going into things. Everyone told him “hey maybe open it up to other import sports cars” or “hey maybe rural Montana isn’t your target market. Paul didn’t give a shit. He loved his art and wanted the world to see the Toyota Supra in the same light that he did. From the lowly Supra Celica to the glorious Paul Walker MKIV Supra, his twin turbos spooled hard in his heart for this obscure automotive gem. Of all the Toyota sports cars on his lot, he had the hardest time moving the ultra shitty MKII. No one wanted that god forsaken turdbox. It looked like something from Blade Runner meets a run down Transformer. A relic from an earlier time whose purpose had been lost over the ages. Somehow, old Paul had an affinity for even the shittiest of Supras and wanted everyone else to love the early-80’s for what they were, not what they remembered of them.

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Shame on You

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If you don’t follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook and/or Friendster, you are missing out on some dank content. For example, while you were having a sorry ass Wednesday, I was popping these club bangers:

Getting my peaches smashed.

Founes and Loonz.

Prince of Persica

A peach named Brett.

V010, you coulda had a v8, instead you got a three eight slug to your cranium.

2008, the year you lost your virginity.

2010, the year you told your therapist about it.

Here’s how they stacked up against one another:

1) Cable Car 2008
2) Persica
3) Fou Foune
4) Peche n Brett
5) Cable Car 2010
6) Veritas 010 (still amazing, just in tough company)

But that is like complaining about how the LP Murcielago doesn’t have the cupholder size that I would have liked. I will get around to reviewing these once the inner lining of my stomach returns.

Moral of the story, stop being a set of babytits and Like me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter, I drink to compensate for online affection.

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Lost Abbey Duck Duck Gooze, This Amazing Beer Puts Me in the Mush Pot

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Whale week chugs along with another gem from years past that we consistently see people offering trifling recent releases trying to land, the inimitable DDGeezy. I will say this is one of, if not the absolute best American Wild Ale that I have ever had. I want to white Nike and bamboo up this boo, introduce it to G4 pilots on a first name basis, you know, nice shit. Well let’s see if we can taste the duck adjunct in this gooze:

You might not recognize this beer when given a real pour and not a janky 2oz splash, use your imagination.

The Lost Abbey
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: Get out your stunner shades, this beer is radioactive bright with radiance highlighter yellow hues blasting in your corneas. There is a slight wheat base that is murky but supports an eggshell wispy head that crackles away like an acid phantom with not a single fuck to give. This is beautiful and strikes like the Care Bear stare straight in your pupils.

This is an old beer that has always been a bitch to wrangle. Oh well, raters gonna rate.

S: Get your hazmat suit, this initially lets you know that the lemon zest is here to burn down your nostrils in effigy and the ripe granny smith apple tones are not unlike Jolly Ranchers. There’s obviously an oaky dryness with deep white grape and lightly used running sock muskiness. The duck notes come through strong in the funk and Scrooge McDuck remains adjusting his vestigial spectacles.

T: Get your Sensodyne toothpaste, your teeth will hurt after this citron bomb goes off. This isn’t incredibly complex due to the hot acid slugs being popped off from the P90, but it is too damn balanced not to love. You get tart apricot, lemon, sweet ruby red grapefruit, and tiny unripe apples picked before their time. The funk has a nice wheat backing to it to suture the open wounds the acids just created.

To most beer nerds, this is the God of all American Wild Ales. I can’t help but pay homage accordingly.

M: This is incredibly dry and makes Chardonnays look like a gatorade by contrast. The oak works with the funk and bugs to give you that pale white tongue with cankersores inevitably following. That being said, it is amazing to sip and taste the liquid roll over each zone as it imparts sweet and sour in the same breath. It is thin but carries a ton like a fireant, stinging all the way back.

D: This is astringent, tart, raw, and uncut but it is still fun to take shit to the danger zone and come back for more after each drink. I would be a bholdface liar if I said I didn’t crave this gem from time to time but, given the fact that the new batch wont be out until Summer 2013 at the earliest, the desire pangs are substantial. Worth the hype, worth pushing the envelope to lock down.

WHAT I IF TOLD YOU, you should seek out this rare sour gem? Go forth, and get your cellar raped.

Narrative: Derby Duck wasn’t your average Merganser duck. To begin with, his birth was a melange of cloacas between his mother and a 1 year old 2 year old and 3 year old father ducks. He was subsequently abandoned after he hatched. The other hatchlings couldn’t stand to be near him on account that he would sweat Propionic acid through his ducts. The trail in the Woodson Pond glowed irradiated with his acidic droppings. Even top tier predators would not harass Derby, believing that he must contain predator blood. The only other companion that he would muster was a bullfrog, Tungtung, born with gustatory problems. The two of them would take their bitter souls and ruminate about other animals lack of taste and make themselves elusive in the animal world. Tungtung had no tastebuds and chewed anise roots regularly shrugging off the rest of the disapproving world. Derby’s moment to shine came one fateful day when one of his duckling brothers was snatched by a rogue fox hiding in the whippoorwills. Derby fired a scorching hot stream of ph1 discharge right into the fox’s nostrils, severely burning his nasal ducts and freeing his unappreciative sibling. Life wasn’t easy being a sour motherducker.

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Lost Abbey Cable Car, Ring a Ding Ding, The San (Diego) Francisco Treat.

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What else can we way about this amazing sour that hasn’t been etched in the stalls of homosexual nightclubs already? This is an amazing beer. I have only had this beer three times and each time I nodded contemplatively at spending a pretty penny to try it, not even mad tho. This beer sweeps the leg and makes me want another, not unlike giving a mouse a cookie, he is going to want a vert.

This beer is only for sale at Torona- WAIT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?

Lost Abbey, Cable Car, 7.0% wild ale

Oh wait, let’s not forget about the Cable Car Kriek, not even fucking around on this review:

Take an amazing sour and then take it to the kriekzone. Feeling like a cherry popping daddy.

A: Light pilsner color, mellow gold, a refined golden ambiance. The kriek technically deserves its own review but I will just ad lib this shit, the kriek has a bright radiant hue like cherry afterbirth. Amazing beers on both aspects.

GOD DAMNIT I need moar of this beer. You must understand my frustration.

S: Strong sour geuze smell, crushed sweettarts and a melted fruitloops wafting. There is a mild funk of wet hay and a deep crisp granny smith apple note going on that is super cutty.

T: This beer is intimidating at first, strong smells and notes, but ultimately this is a calf that you can wrangle without oppression. It is akin to mutton busting, something that seems difficult until you tackle the sheep, and pull its majestic fur to the ground. At its core, it is temptation with milder souring, lighter drying effects, less tanins in the grape aftertaste, and finally champagne crisp apple notes in the finish. Nothing you can’t handle but an exceptional balance. It is the lovechild of gueuze and champagnes of the mild brut variety. I love the dryness even if it slows me from enjoying the white grape and fuji apple notes.

This beer is unique, yet respectable, strange, yet friendly.

M: Fantastic, crisp and light, the entire experience has lemon zest and feels like a Hootie and the Blowfish Album. You can dispense this pellmell and no one will look askance. If not for the oppressive Toronado’s standards, this could be something everyone could enjoy, if not for proprietary despotism. This is well worth bootlegging, well worth epic trades. Just really good, but if you want to tread this road, there are more refined paths as smoothe as marble for your wanting cart, should you not have epic cellar gems to take down this beast.

D: Again, fantastic but competing in a league of legends. I would drink this all day, fixing my carburetor, prepartying for the charity gala, snuff film exposition, you know, guy stuff. I find myself in a love hate resolution with this beer because I love what it is but I hate the air surrounding it. It feels like seeing a person with a TOOL shirt on. you love the syncopated rhythms and complex melodies, but you dislike the fanbase in general. The faux highbrow ruins what would be a fantastic experience.

I need more of this sour gem, I cannot stop thrusting.

Narrative: Sir Fredrick Willingsly is repossessing your car. You can’t hate him for doing his job, but, without a 1998 civic DX, these pizzas arent going to deliver themselves. You hate him, with his cliche antagonistic handlebar moustache and fogged up monocle. However, his wry quips relating to Howards’ End and class struggle made it all the sweeter. “And thence upon from which one has had, none shall take without” he declares with a cloud of aplomb that almost makes you lighthearted in his usurpation of your chief economic asset. He is akin to the Mr. peanut of recurring vengeance. your pocket despises him, yet you respect him for his casuistic enforcement of the law. “God speed Willingsly, dont scratch my sick mugen exhaust on the dip. Godspeed.”