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Voodoo Brewing Company, The K13: Suitable for Tickers grades K through 13

What is the 13th grade? Well it is technically that grade where you are taking City College classes part time but also working on your Ciceron certification. That way when you recommend Hop Devil, the people at Yard House will respect your opinion before they order Chelada. That grade.

First and foremost, huge thanks to Tom aka TRXXPAXXS for trxxpxxxing all over my porch with this rare gem. LYMI.

Well what do we have here? Another baller ass barleywine, business as fucking usual on DDB I guess. But wait, what if I told you it was 258 bottles, 1 per person. What if I said that there’s a string of butthurt analbeads from tickers who couldn’t land it: WHAT THEN? If that isn’t enough, IT WAS AGED IN PAPPY BARRELS = automatic instant wale. Ask Barrel Aged People’s Porter. Just kidding this is way better than that shit. So is this a King Henry destroyer? This didn’t get Rare’s sloppy seconds with pappy and it appears to go in hard. Let’s see if this is any better than those 452 KH gots, slowing fading in closets next to XXXL Northface jackets.

Such SRM, deep tones, many malts to make tastings (bourbon feels)

Such SRM, deep tones, many malts to make tastings (bourbon feels)

Voodoo Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
American Barleywine | 13.00% ABV

A: I will be honest and say that this isn’t the prettiest Barleywine on the block. This is straight up American barleywine with those deep muddy mahoganies, Old Ale looking color swaps, and none of those garnet/toffee/dark amber that I like to see but, if Jack Black’s Oscar winning performance in Shallow Hal has taught me anything: go for the bigger ones, they always deliver. Carb is pretty DEEZ, nothing too insane and the whole thing is lock step with BA Behemoth and Arctic Devil. Legit company to keep, for sheeze.

There are plenty of times to skull a 13% Pappy BW solo.  While dressed like Tinky Winky is not one of those times.

There are plenty of times to skull a 13% Pappy BW solo. While dressed like Tinky Winky is not one of those times.

S: This might be one of the finest BA American barleywines I have ever had. It doesn’t go all sweet fisted with candies, but instead provides more depth from the faded ass hops with malty roast, baked/burned bread, creme brulee torched caramel, baked apples, jammy figs and of. fucking. course. Pappy. The pappy is one of the few barrels that even a weak ass Certified Beer Server could pick out of a 6 pack lineup. You get that mallow foam on your titties, edible vanilla underwear, and oaky KY lube just getting that Pavlovian palate ready and wet.

T: This is barrel forward more than Donkey Kong Country. You get toasted oak drying at the outset, faded hops in the realm of Warrior adding a base for complexity, the same toasted Werther’s original I mentioned above but the entire thing is underscore by a fantastic warmth and barrel presence from them Pappies. Sometimes tits look better in the old brassierre and when you open it up expecting magic, that Pappy bra can’t hold it together. These malty tits are fantastic and present a great interplay of booziness supported by malt and complexity from the base beer’s old hoppy resin. It isn’t exactly a barrel bomb like something in the way of Kuhnhenn BBBW or Alpine Great, but it is its own lil reeeemix that shines, poppin Molly at a barrel aged dubstep show, spilling bourbon all over underaged chicks. The uze.

Whenever I see 1oz pours of a rare barleywine it's like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING

Whenever I see 1oz pours of a rare barleywine it’s like WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING

M: This is admittedly hot, but in that toasty “dont be a vulva” sort of way that is compelled by Arctic Devil and the like. If the base beer didn’t have the complexity in the malt and hop profile, this might fall into a “just pretty awesome” realm like Sucaba and others. However, at higher temps this beast shines and stands out like that annoying ass drama student from a broken home. It craves your attention and seeks your approval. The finish is drying from the oak, but again, on the heels of everything else happening in this beer the dryness is a fantastic closer to the bourbon set. You want encores and shit.

D: This is not exceptionally drinkable in the sense of “hey let’s play Ni No Kuni, where did my pants go, fuck I am late for work.” This will get you swerved and it is more cerebral than some of the other offerings in this realm simply because you have at least 4 elements at play asking for your attention. The average taster will cop out and say EHHH ESS TOOO HAWWTTTT and then continue watching Storage Wars or some other bullshit. But for the rest of us, people with conviction and purpose, it is fucking amazing. I highly recommend this and it is well worth that DDG/BA Huna realm that it is trading within. Srs.

This beer will solve all kinds of problems.

This beer will solve all kinds of problems.

Narrative: The sleek aluminum doors opened with a cascade of spinning red lights and exhaust steam from the pneumatic mechanism. Deep within the doors of the misslebay the alarm resounded its wailing call to the acamedic officials waiting below: the time for K13 had arrived. “Professor, the Angel’s Share ignition chamber has been primed, we are ready for primary,” called one lab technician while looking at a spread of blinking monitors. Professor Blanton looked through the plate glass observation window at his passion, his bete noir for almost a decade. “Blanton, they said that bourbon could not be weaponized. They said that carpet assaults of fermented spirits was a violation of the Geneva Convention. I don’t hear any of them now!” he thought to himself as the mechanized countdown began. The city of Glendale for too long knew nothing of bourbon. Its residents basked in deviant repose, enjoying clear alcohols and neglecting Kentucky exports. “TODAY THEY SHALL FEEL THE STING OF PURE BOURBON RAINING FROM ABOVE! ARM THE k13!” Blanton called to the support staff. A sheet of pure distilled energy cascaded in a vibrant amber wave over the Galleria mall.

Drink .rar Barleywines, Stunt hard.

Drink .rar Barleywines, Stunt hard.

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Dont Spit Into the Wind, Dont Mess Around with Hill Farmstead Jim

Big Jim IPA

You Dont Tug On Superman's Cape and You Don't Mess Around With Jim

Don’t pull the mask off the old lone ranger. Seriously.

OH WAIT 11/11/11 at 11:11, GIVE ME A KISS AND MAKE A WISH!

Hill Farmstead Jim, 7.5% Black IPA, aged in Merlot Barrels

A: Hey guys, guess what color this black IPA is? If you said fuschia, you are, absolutely wrong. It is a slick “baby stout” sort of blackness. It’s that sort of gentle blackness that Milton attempted to both embrace and ward away. The head is off white and has a nice contrast the evil darkness below just like JOHN MILTON OH SHIT DID YOU SEE WHAT JUST TOOK PLACE THERE?

S: This is an IPA, through and through. The pine and grass reach out like a bath and body works candle, the citrus notes grapple and strike me like those weird weeds in Ursula’s cave. You know, those weeds…

I love this brewery but this beer tries to have too many fucking specialties. Just be a paladin.

T: The taste is strange, is isn’t quite herbal, it swiftly moves and changes several times while you taste it. It gets a bit of oakiness, then almost a grape or a cinnamon, then returns to its normal pinecone roots and finishes sweet. I have no idea how to approach this changeling. It goes tobacco, carnival, woods, carnival. Which I guess each of those makes sense together. Oh 5th grade.

M: The wine notes at the outset make this a blustering, confusing beer. You get a big wine note that turns into herbs, into a sweetness. The entire experience washes clean, but your conscience remains besmirched. It’s like your old uncle, whom you remember so fondly but now he’s back from the military and gives extra long hugs and is more serious. I don’t know whether to embrace the gravity of this project or to ask for my old friend back.

I dont like it, but I cannot escape its grasp.

D: This is like a Japanese game show in that it is intense, varied, and makes no sense. I don’t know how long you can watch that kinds of craziness but this is just too busy for my taste buds. If they sold this in 6 packs I would see it as a sort of Sartorial punch line rather than a beverage purchase. I don’t know what to make of myself after having tasted this. Maybe I could have been an optometrist, after Jim, who knows.

Narrative: “And you FINAL WISHHHH?” the genie hissed at Clarence Hyrbo amiably. “Well, I mean, I already got this swell wheatgrass farm for my grandfather” he surveyed the verdant pastures and the genie nodded approvingly. “And shucks, I already have this swell Merlot vinery for my grammy,” he ejaculated as the wine fields arose in front of him with sticky sweet grapes, ripe for harvest. The genie rubbed his ethereal palms and hovered entreatingly, “well?” he importuned. Clarence looked left and looked right, and only saw two wasted paradigms of wishes spoiled on human greed. He felt ashamed. His cell phone rang a sweet Creed ringtone and he wondered how to set this all right. “Genie?” Clarence softly uttered, “yes Clarence?” the genie responded gently. “Well, I see now that, every time someone gets a wish, it usually just ends with ironic consequences, like a grandmother overdosing on merlot, or artery problems due to wheatgrass,” the genie nodded solemnly “such is the Genie Code, to provide wishes only with disastrous consequences and life changing realizations but, you’ve hardly even tried yours out yet.” Clarence surverey the fields and firmly stated “GENIE! I want something that will make everyone happy, something that no one will die from, and no one will hate me for.” The genie waved his hands over the South Carolina countryside and the grapes and wheat grass disappeared. In wave after wave, tobacco fields rolled over the verdant pastures. “NOW EVERYONE WILL REMEMBER ME FAVORABLY!” Clarence called and ran all the way to the Charleston homestead which was recently founded