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.


Maple Bacon Coffee Porter, Funky Buddha, Florida Shows Its True Joie De Vivre

The Funkiest Buddha Maple Bacon Coffee Porter

Three Adjectives. One Noun. And a Whole lot of Truckstop Lovin.

I got some complaints that I
was reviewing too many Porters (three.)

Funky Buddha, Maple Bacon Coffee Porter, 6.3% “Brown Carbonated Liquid”

A: This beer has medium carbonation with tiny bubbles the file upwards like disobedient 3rd graders, to and fro all sticky. It has a deep burnt mahogany shine and gives a lot of reflection off. It feels trashy, yet refined, like a Monte Carlo with candy paint and a dope Hawaiian Punch mural on it. You know it took a lot of Fudruckers checks to make it happen.

S: You cannot fault this beer for false advertising, the aromas are complex and intense, I have to pull it apart like strata. The first smell is a deep maple syrup sweetness like getting a sweet smooch from your aunt from Vermont, who happens to smoke black and milds. The smoke comes through but it’s more of a caramel smoke, not like bacon, but it is there and it smells inviting and fattening. The coffee notes are there, but it seems more like a weak stout coffee than that great acidic or sweet coffee I was hoping for. But I was also hoping for a 4th season of Arrested Development, one can dream.

T: The coffee hits front and center in both the sweet and bitter zones and the smoke follows haphazardly, buttoning his shirt running out the door. There is a huge interplay of the two flavors and ultimately I don’t know who to root for until, OH SHIT, maple comes up from behind with a trashcan and cleans up the ring with both of the two Jabronis. Bacon is nowhere to be found in this melee but I suppose that’s for the best, this is hectic enough. Trailer park deliciousness.

M: The mouthfeel is slick and thin and it’s impressive how much flavor is packed into such a simple base beer. The abv is almost non-existent and the drying from the coffee is offset but the maple sweetness. All in all, this beer is crazy and memorable, like a trip to the coffee plantation…and then finding out that it is also is a “bacon factory.”

D: This beer is crisp and light but carries an insane complexity. This isn’t meant for sessions and it has nothing to do with the ABV or the disapproving looks from your wife. It is just too complicated, no one watches a marathon of David Lynch movies, it just doesn’t work like that. You enjoy your decadent maple bacon madness in moderation, which I guess isn’t hard since this “brewery” makes these bottles in 50 bottle batches so, good luck getting hooked on this sticky ham juice.

Narrative: “Hey Edith, if you don’t mind, Claire has to bail her piece of shit husband out of jail so, you’re working a double.” It was funny how a question can turn into an insult and then into a statement in a single breath. “Come on Jesse!“ Edith clicked her Capri Slim on the rim of the ashtry and let the 2” ashes fall insouciantly. “Yeah, sure I guess, not like I have anything beyond this diner to look forward to.” She looked around the room of the makeshift break room and sighed, another 16 hours of slinging eggs, coffee and bacon to unappreciative truckers. Edith tied her apron on and swished the pork and tobacco taste around in her mouth while she prepared her notepa- “what in the?” Edith glanced over near the OSHA poster and saw, what appeared to be a manilla folder of rare vintage comic books. “Well, hey now, that’s what I call a tip!” One of them even had a certificate of authenticity. “OH MY GOD! THIS CANT BE REAL!” Edith scream and jumped up and down, her thick diabetic frame rattling her white coffee mug on the table. “Action Comics #1, the first appearance of Superman! That comic is valued at $250,000 in mint cond-” “SURPRISE!” yelled the TV crew and the dapper host upon entering abruptly. “Wait what?” “You’re on UPN’s HOTTEST NEW SHOW! ‘LET DOWNS FOR THE WORKING CLASS!’” Edith’s head was spinning, was this a real show? “Yeah, we let people who have basically nothing feeling amazing for a few fleeting seconds, AND THEN BRING ON THE LET DOWNS!” Edith’s hands dropped to her sides in disbelief. Jesse noted, “hey but seriously, get out there, you are still working a double, and, uh, leave the fake comic books for the other guys to read huh?”