Goose Island Rare Bottles are about to be the Subprime Mortgage Crisis of the Beer World

Rare holders right now be like-


If you have had the misfortune to stumble into beer trade forums recently there is a staunchly divided contingency of beer nerds, beset in two camps.  The first consists of the dudes who went to Rare Day and are attempting to loot any and all dinnerware from the sinking Titanic before tens of thousands of bottles hit nationwide distro.  You will be able to spot these dudes a mile away because they will argue things like “well trade value is based on QUALITY AND TASTE” or “even if 60,000 bottles are released, uh, well that’s like, you can’t really say that’s all that many…really…because uhm…demand…” These dudes are riding the crest of a profiteering wave attempting to land Blauw and Armand Seasons before shit crashes in a salty barrel. Take a shot once they reference the quality of the entirely unrelated bottles of 2010 Rare, you’ll be wasted quick enough.

The equally ridiculous demographic on the opposing side consists of pangloss guys who assume that these $60 bottles will show up in their local Walgreens, gathering dust for years to come.  These are the guys who have ever expanding speculative quotes about how many bottles are going to be released.  It should be well in the six figures by the time DDB posts this. You can spot them a mile away offering like HUNA+ or some Trickery-tier ticks, fully prepared for some Sharks vs. Jets scrap.

The best part about all of these RareCiceroNies is that the vast majority of them can’t identify why the barrel treatment matters in any meaningful way.  Sure, explain to me why you prefer 35 year age stated bourbon.  Tell me all the various single cask three decade old bourbons that you have tried, I will wait.  When Pugachev 25 year came out, every one of them was still having sex with lukewarm melons and complaining about HEAT, but wait 35 year barrels? PASS THAT RARE.  I mean, sure, the bourbon was never released to retail but PUTTING BEER IN THOSE BARRELS MUST BE INCREDIBLE BECAUSE MOAR YEARS.

It is hard to know who to root for, since both have wildly skewed perceptions of value and will only degrade the beer culture by waiting in 8 hour lines for things they have no intention of opening.  It’s like when your alcoholic stepdad shows up to fight the racist school bully: can’t both of them just get knocked the fuck out concurrently? I can only hope for a Battle of the Marne result where both sides wear one another down to a nub and there is no winner by decision.

They would need to make significant advances in microspectronomy to detect the fucks I give about the actions of these rapacious hucksters at this point. If anyone needs me I will be opening a Saison Dupont and turning my rare box into a lacquered fleshlight.



CASEY CUT CAGEMATCH AKA THAT “TRIPLE C”: @caseybrewing Balaton Cut vs. Blackberry Cut. THEY WILL CUT U.

Colorado has a proud heritage of undersung, albeit incredible releases. In a bygone pre-pasteurizing era, New Belgium used to pad out the Whaley ranks with caged and corked one offs. For a period it was radio silence and the state was free to legalize marijuana, drive Subarus and make beers using breakfast cereal without impugnity. Colorado continues to have this absurd model of just delivering top tier beers directly to local consumers without artificially throttling output, using lotteries, or other stupid shit to artificially inflate branding or good will. WHEN WILL THEY LEARN. This concept coupled with the fact that Colorado traders are exceedingly generous kept the Rockies hidden like that colony in Atlas Shrugged where productive people could be free from usurious neckbeards.

Soft fruit. Soft lighting. Soft berry kisses.

Soft fruit. Soft lighting. Soft berry kisses.

Sadly, with mounting demand comes husky REI enthusiasts willing to brave long lines for fruited wild ales. I can’t fault Casey for this, but the typically genial Colorado population is maligning themselves with the rapacious Chicagoan paradigm. That little state is embracing hoarding like a stepmom with dementia. As a result these 1 per person, 120 count Casey Cut releases are the cat shit filled houses, with analogy extension.

For today’s review we are going to do a shootout of the original two Casey cuts to determine if they are worth the degree of balls-tripping that has resulted. Balaton Cut vs Blackberry Cut, two fruits enter, but only one condescending asshole emerges!

Turn slowly for maximum vend

Turn slowly for maximum vend

Casey Cut Blackberry

No corners were cut on the produce budget for this beer and the ridiculous Claire’s hue shows the tannins stacked on tannins, skins on skins. The radiant pour is welcoming but also had this dull fruity matte finish like when Persian dudes paint a 3 series flat magenta to prove its isn’t their dad’s car, he just still lives at home at age 33.

The turbidity is milky and seems to tenaciously grip its farmhouse roots without some clarifying e brake. I love the way these both look.

The nose is at the outset a bit mineral and almost brackish, spritzer with a huge berry roundhouse on the backend. This isn’t jammy tiny diner jellies, this is more akin to post harvest, first crush, warm fruit languishing on the rich silt, fruit skins and puppy musk.  Pour it into a gym sock and huff them fruits.

The look on both of these beers is just ridiculous.

The look on both of these beers is just ridiculous.

The taste of the blackberry is sharper than I expected but never puts a muddy lacto boot In your entryway. It is subtle and gentle, with a sort of award like Troy Casey wanted you to actually be able to drink an entire bottle to yourself. Imagine that, a wild ale that establishes itself without massaging the poles of extremes. The oak is not as pronounced as let’s say VSB or SHBRL, but it is also far more easy going. The Berry profile is like a sidecar on the coolest Vespa you have ever see. It doesn’t try to stunt or overwhelm, you just have a glowing appreciation for the ingenuity and character of it. It is incredibly good and rounds the edges off of the Nocturn Chrysalis model, a creamy soft mouthfeel like 500ct berry sheets.

Cherry poppin daddy

Cherry poppin daddy

Balaton Cut

All of the exceptional praise for the appearance on the blackberry carries over here except the bright KOOL aid aspects make it flow even more ridiculously. If you slit the throat of an otter pop this would be its arterial fluid: beautiful.

The nose is not as original or interesting as the blackberry, which is to say it is still phenomenal, albeit with other comparable existing analogs.  It falls somewhere in between the Fruitiness of Montmorency vs. Balaton and the acidity/cheesiness of Lou Pepe Kriek.  When those are the comparisons you draw, it’s safe to say Casey has it’s shit well in hand at this point.

feeling juiced rite nao

feeling juiced rite nao

The taste is a relaxing romp through the cherry orchard, more blossom than fruit, more languid stroll than ravenous gathering. It has the hallmarks of some of the best krieks, the skins from De Cam but with a distrinctively Sante Adairius sort of pillowy safety to the mouthfeel.  The acidity is kept well in check and it never feels robitussin forward or strays into the elusive Ludens cough drop zone.  While it may not reach the ultimate subllimity of say Cable Car Kriek, it stands head and shoulders over many of the highly lauded recent fruited wild ales.


Alright, well maybe you are at the wrong website, but there is limited hope if you find yourself in this situation.  While hardly “easy” to land, you could always try for Lou Pepe Kriek or, in a pinch, go after regular shelf Drie Fonteinen Kriek. I can’t say that the De Garde lineup has anything directly analogous to these beers and honestly the best alternative might be just another Casey beer:



While not as complex or bright, even the “150% FRUIT MONTMORENCY FRUIT STAND” is still a fantastic beer.  You get the refreshing berry character, that same soft mouthfeel, and incredible crushability. Plus, just look at that beer, god damn does it look inviting. The perfect beer to crush after savagely screaming at your son’s little league coach. REFRESHING.

Sometimes being your own biggest competitor is an ideal situation to embrace, and I can’t think of may other breweries executing fruited wild ales with this much balance and tiptoeing as Casey Brewing.  If you want something subtle that you can drink to yourself while you sob and call phone numbers out old yearbooks, CASEY HAS THE PERFECT GEMS FOR YOU.


Is Cantillon Blabaer 2013 the Head-on Berry Collision that Complainers Like to Make it Out to Be?

Ddb reviewed Blabby back like four years ago or some shit so we aren’t going to retread that ground in full at this juncture.

Here knock yourself out:




But what about those infamous “off” vintages? Every three years, meatsweatted cicerones will capriciously decide OH NO FUCK BRO THAT YEAR SUCKS MY HOME BREW CLUB AGREED TOO.

This happened with Flora b6, it happened with Fantasia b2, the NOTORIOUSLY SHITTY Cable Car 2010: none of this makes any sense. Nine times out of ten, the complaints hover around “BRUH it wasn’t even like as sour as I remember, making something more sour is a demonstration of true breW skillz.”

Flora b6 was a touch less sour sure, but posting ISOs specifically like “ANY FLORA BATCH EXCEPT THAT HORRIBLE BATCH FIVE THAT I KNOW IS TERRIBLE” makes no sense. Flora is still fucking delicious.

The glass upskirt is second only to placing the bottle ontop of the glass in stupid beer photography

The glass upskirt is second only to placing the bottle ontop of the glass in stupid beer photography

The greatest victim of this paradigm is tattered old Blabaer 2013. Somewhere along the line people ruled that blabaer must be X2OMG sour and intensely Smuckers and if it isn’t, then JVR really shit the bed on this one.

Blabby already exists as a trade anomaly on so many levels. It often exists as a crown jewel for a first or second year trader to “accomplish” a badge of blueberry merit, to validate their face hole. These same people toss up 8:1 offers and covetous hoarders tear them down.

Those same stupid dipshits who hoard blabaer are actively trying to trade them upwards for Pikku or an M or some shit. This will never happen for the simple reason that: everyone only needs to try Blabaer once.

That isn’t to say it isn’t good, but traders of a certain experience know to never actually drink a Blabaer when St. Lam is far easier to land and tastes better. Therefore bottles of blabaer never move downward, but they can never move upward either. They sit and malinger until someone wants to stunt hard as fuck at some brewery event and live on in infamy in UNTAPPD reviews. WOW Herbert Spencer, such legacy achieved, sociological immortality.



So within this climate you have two poles of raters: 1) bitter assholes who traded a ton for it and were “forced” to open it and share it with ignorant cretins and 2) unappreciative shitlords who failed time and time again to land it and now want to engage in some growing pains of iconoclasm and take poor blabby down a peg,

So yeah, if you pour 2013 Blabaer amongst 15 people it won’t be as aggro sour, it won’t be as fruity, but it is even more interesting in its musky tannic vibe. So within the scope of 1 ounce within bitter BJCP turd hammers, it will become the “bad” vintage.  It is still a phenomenal beer and one should look at groupmind “consensus” with a grain of gose.

Fire up a dare form tab and get over it. Beer itself and beer people get worse with every passing day, fading away in cellars and basements, respectively.


DOUBLE FERMENTATION @sapporobeer Reserve, Ultra Whaley Japanese Lagers

Odds are, if you have ever gotten shithoused while sake bombing in undergrad, there’s a one in three chance that you have encountered one of the three Japanese brewing Megazords: Kirin Ichiban, Asahi, or Sapporo. If I had my choice between the three, Sapporo is usually my go to, despite the gentle and almost diaphanous nature of the three competing styles.

But what do you want, some syrupy old ale or intensely juniper ipa masking that expensive ass Uni you just paid for, you gentrified asshole? But today we have the walezbro Sapporo Reserve, Kotaku culture on full swole.
sometimes I get fully turnt and cant control those fstop values, why do I even bother with nice things

sometimes I get fully turnt and cant control those fstop values, why do I even bother with nice things

Sapporo Reserve, Japan
Euro Pale Lager meets Japanese Lager, 5.2% abv
Commercial tug job:

“Sapporo Reserve is a super premium lager brewed almost twice as long as other competing brands. Reserve is brewed with only finest European barley, and the most select European hops.”
A: this pours looking more honey hued and amber than the pale yellow of regular Sapporo, it also has a slight degree of more cling and lacing, well above the call of duty for something a stupid investment banker will spill all over while saying some microaggressions at a sushi bar. As a corollary, their steel can branding is iconic and I love drilling those from the can, the heft like some nimble cutlass in my drunken shuffle boarding Palm. I have no idea what “brewed twice as long” means. It spends a needlessly long time in the primary? They don’t dry hop this so it sits in the secondary uselessly? Who the fuck knows, my external hard drive full of Hentai/tentacle porn offers no answers.
OH SHIT GUIZE: Shiraseru Am: a smartphone-integrated wearable pet behavior and health monitoring device

OH SHIT GUIZE: Shiraseru Am: a smartphone-integrated wearable pet behavior and health monitoring device

The smell is tame and gives a “blast” of Saaz and maybe Sterling Golden. The rice and cloying saltine aspects from normal Japanese lagers is absent here and this comes across more Germanic in execution, like a pale marzen in a way. It won’t change your life but it gives a degree of actual complexity beyond “I am a beer, order extra yellowtail Travis always takes it all.”
The taste is again very European and has a lightly grassy aspect and fades into a bisquik biscuit with a touch of honey sweetness. It is dismissive in its presence, like a neglected girlfriend it allows you to attend other affairs and, as a result, it endlessly pairable. The silent grace has a clean mouthfeel, without lingering dryness or hoppy residuals. “No no palate, you go out with your friends, I’ll stay home and catch up on STITCHERS on ABC Family.”
NO WAY GUIEZ: Chogokin Miracle Henkei Hatsune Miku Rody: the most unusual, awesome tie-up toy of the year!

NO WAY GUIEZ: Chogokin Miracle Henkei Hatsune Miku Rody: the most unusual, awesome tie-up toy of the year!

The chief virtue behind a beer that goes with the flow is placing it in dynamic situations. Pair this shit with Thai or Barbeque, tapas or duck confit. It won’t protest or really compliment the flavor profiles, but it is so malleable that you can shape it and bend it like Floam. I’ll give you a second to go and Google “floam.”
The funniest part about the dipshits who review this beer on BA or dumbass badge hunters who lambast this is the fact that many “craft” offerings are far shittier. Like the adolescent palate defining itself by rebelling against large companies, many entry level tickers rip on the Sapporo lineup unjustly to validate their own weak ass collection of Rogue beers.
Japanese women who are hella into katana swords get me harder than adamantium

Japanese women who are hella into katana swords get me harder than adamantium

It is summer, bring a few of these big ass steel cans to a cookout and see if your normal/non-basement dwelling friends don’t 1) drink the shit out of them and 2) not think you are a Megan’s Law weirdo for once.
It is 85 degrees out, don’t be the foreskin baller who shows up to a bbq with Adam from the Wood: no one gives a fuck except you. Keep that nerdy shit to yourself and drill some Japanese lager like a real God damn american.

Three Floyd’s Murda’D Out Stout, For When Being Baller Just Isn’t Enough and Your Beer Needs that Persian Appeal

Three Floyd’s pushes the limits in two things: 1) hoppiness and 2) the elasticity of my anus for these extremely expensive releases. This beer was a ~800 bottle release priced at a whopping $50 a bottle. Some people might be cracking a Rare and shrugging their shoulders, but for the rest of us not living off of capital gains, $50 for a beer is a serious perineum pounder. Anyway, by way of history, almost 2 years ago, Baller Stout came out and it was $30, and beer nerds were acting like the 4 horsemen of the stoutpacalypse had arrived: a blend of Darkness, Dark Lord, Beer Geek Brunch, and Black Albert. So when they announced this, I knew shit was gonna get real. They did not mention that they aged each component beer in barrels prior to blending for 14 months then CPK “two in a bowled” that stout for this masterpiece. Enough fluffing, let’s get to full on stout ejaculation.

Some people be like "$50 rare bottle and you rock pours like that" yeah welcome to DDB, where we arent poor acorn dicks. Make yourself at home.

Some people be like “$50 rare bottle and you rock pours like that” yeah welcome to DDB, where we arent poor acorn dicks. Make yourself at home.

Three Floyds Brewing Co. & Brewpub
Indiana, United States
Style | ABV
Russian Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This has the slick oiliness like Parabola with a nice beige roast still hiding in the bubbles letting you know there is some unresolved shit going on in there. The pour is deep black but sadly I was expecting it to have a “flat black” sheen to it like those stupid assholes in West Hollywood who want people to know this is THEIR RANGE ROVER AND JUST BECAUSE THEIR DAD PAID FOR IT DOESNT MAKE IT HIS PARENT’S CAR. It is shiny black instead.

What's that you say? $50 1 per person brewery release? IN THE MIDWEST? Well I never.

What’s that you say? $50 1 per person brewery release? IN THE MIDWEST? Well I never.

S: Holy hell this is a complex beer and you have to pull it apart like an onion, or the psoriasis on your testicles. I feel like that Dark Lord leads with its robed black foot first and supplies a deep black blast of sugar, turbinado sweetness, bakers chocolate and Hershey’s syrup all wrapped in a warm bourbon blankie straight from the dryer. You get this coffee pat on the back from Mikkeller, but fuck Mikkeller, the only reason you are hanging out with Beer Geek anything is because it is surrounded by a ton of hot stout chicks. Darkness finishes things out with a deep roasty dryness and this mallowfoam smell that just lingers like when you wonder how many Taco Bell items that you bought the night before.

T: This taste has the complexity of the above and is like Hungry Hungry Hippos just raping your tastes buds with cascading elbows of roast, then bourbon sweetness, then coffee acidity, and chocolate Stone Cold stunning the fuck out of every taste zone. It reminds me if you took the amazingness of Barrel Aged Dark Lord (any really) and they started tossing on body kits, rims, spoilers, and all kinds of extraneous shit. It is a bit sloppier in execution as a result, but it is genuinely every bit as good. I am so glad that this beer has flown so deeply under people’s respective radars. I guess that $50 price tag and the 1 per person was enough to pucker more than a few buttholes, BUT MY BUTTHOLE REMAINS UNPUCKERABLE.

Drink this stout, then go try a normal ass off shelf offering and be all like-

Drink this stout, then go try a normal ass off shelf offering and be all like-

M: This is sticky on the teeth with residual sugars and stick malts but also slightly wafty from the bourbon and the bitter zones get this deep char, Slippy is just doing barrel rolls all day and doesn’t even need to be saved. I can’t accurately restate the mouthfeel without just putting the aforementioned adjectives in a tumble dryer, so fuck it, if you dont get it this might not be the right place for you.

D: This likely has an ABV above 13% abv and I would drink this shit all day long. No qualifier like “I meant during winter” or some bullshit, I will drink this before my job as a bus driver because everyone knows 1) bus drivers cant get DUIs and 2) no one can get a DUI while the sun is up. It is widely known. The cruelest jokes are always the best beers being the least accessible (INB4 Parabola assholes, I know, I know.) Now forget everything I just said, I dont want you ungrateful assholes ruining my chances at landing another one of these. If you have one, it was not even that good, I will send you some Knee Deep stuff for one. Get at me.

Sure it was $50 and super rare, but try to enjoy yourself at least.

Sure it was $50 and super rare, but try to enjoy yourself at least.

NarratiVe: The life of a Chimera only seemed like a blast from the outside. Sure, you are fierce and amazing, aweinspiring at worst. But what about those other times? Try sharing the duality of identity with a series of united beasts. I was born a lion head attached to the body of a dragon, sharing an L1-L2 spinal segment with a goat head, and an unruly snake as a tail. You think I ever got to finish my memoirs with all those assholes constantly wanting to fly around, raid villages, slay King Cnut’s people, submerge scandinavian sea vessels, and fuck all else? Yeah, no rest to be had at all. The snake is diabetic and constantly complaining about our iron and glucose intake, I swear that fucking goat head just eats anything, peasant huts, cabbage farms; anything. Last week the dragon tried to use our penis to have sex with a Manticore. A FUCKING MANTICORE. Can you imagine the bush on that thing? Having a shared penis is bad enough but, you gotta draw the line somewhere. Sure, I am one piece of a fierce beast, but I have so much more complexity than outsiders ever imagine.


McKenzie Brew House Saison Du Bois, Blanche Dubois Relying on the Courtesy of Strangers


This rare ass saison practically fell into my lap and I completely lucked out being able to trade for this. I had zero hopes of landing something like this with a bottle count in the magical sub-400 level. I have found that landing these ambrosial treats, no matter how whaleish, is almost always easier than dealing with that pesky BA Stout and BA Barleywine territory. I am also fucking things up for those of us covert saison lovers with all of these reviews but, anything is possible if 50 fucked Vivica.

Straight up BIC pen on the label, 372 bottles .rars to the fullest, monster monster tickers I got it.

McKenzie Brew House
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This has a beautiful aspect to it and just the right amount of carbonation and overall this saison hits the aristotelian mean on all fronts, not too spicey, not too dry, not too over carbed, just a solid Mario ass saison. The result is an exceptional exercise in moderation that is noteworthy for that very reason. This looks like a apricot juice and has a cumulus nimbus fluffy white crown to it.

400 bottle release? I would hit that shit.

S: This goes for an incredibly herbal aspect to it that lays out the sod first and seeds up some beds of wet turf, finally closing with a sort of lemon zest meets yearbook musk for the noscope headshot. I really enjoy it, despite the fact that it doesn’t lean entirely towards the light acidity that I enjoy out of my saisons. If every saison were the same they would be IPAs and what is the fun in that shit? Let hopheads initiate beer n00bs, I don’t have time for that shit. This is big boy beer bangers, more snare in my headphones.

The saison is a graceful, award winning style that is always a bit funky.

T: This follows the nose with a dryness and herbal aspect to it that reminds me almost of an herbal fernet branca sort of vibe that immediately gives way to that acidic aspect that I was looking for IN THE FIRST PLACE. The lactic aspects were not pronounced on the nose but then they lazily show up with oranges and tangelo in tow, imparting a post menopausal dryness that only Glenn Close could replicate. This finishes with a sort of chamomille aspect to it that is refreshing and relaxing at the same time.

M: No shocker here, you can’t snort rails of Earl Grey all day and not expect some dryness. Hell, if you rub darjeeling on your eurethra and go to town, you will last for hours. This saison is much the same way, herbal but provides that refreshing blast to keep your coming back for another drying sip. The light acidity gives this a finish like biting into an Anjou pear, straight up revitalizing.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, but you should have already picked that up from the foregoing. There’s this sort of clarity to the complicated elements that is united under the wheat and brett character. This is another one of those reviews where I tell you to seek out a 300 bottle release and end up looking like a twatwaffle, but, seek it out. Get on that grizzy.

Saisons might not be the most desired style of beer, but they are amazing on the inside.

Narrative: Dig, oxidize, seed, cover, aerate, hydrate, harvest; it was the same thing day in and day out at Sodtech Inc. The contingency of scientists and resident honduran lawn technicians worked away busily harvesting new strains of lusher and lusher grasses. The recent strain of fescue was redolent with bluebell and felt like those velour tracksuits that Persian housewives are wont to wear. Somehow, Adam Walters felt that this existence left something to be desired. Sure he patented an azure seedling that was hydroefficient, but ever since Claire left the lab, he felt a deep dryness in his heart. He was the head of his Botany class and revolutionized his hydroponics seminar but he could not forget her flaxen locks, the way she would add ammonium nitrate to the bedding solution. She was pure grace with gloves that smelled of Barefoot Chardonnay. Alas, perhaps being a grass lab provocatuer was not the most efficient way to court the ladies, knee deep in animal dung, thinking about fertilization that could have been.


Fantome Dark White BBB Saison, Black Hat, Black Shades, Dark White Ghost, Oh Behave.

Dany Prignon kills it in the saison scene and spares no hides when it comes to strange new takes on what was almost a completely lost style. This is my favorite style of beer from one of my absolute favorite breweries. I try to swing things around from brewery to brewery, but this particular beer was so damn strange and phenomenal that I had to give props to the ghosthunters in Soy and tell the haters to count those funky spokes. Bring your flashlight, we are telling ghost stories.

The BBB stands for Better Business Bureau, which is srs bzness in Belgium.

Brasserie Fantôme
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 4.00% ABV

A: This does not look like your typical saison outing and it looks more like a biere de garde in execution but aint nobody complaining. The carbonation is actually ratcheted back from the usual “cork hitting the ceiling levels that this crazy ghost loves to present. These bottles can be dangerous. There is a deep copper meets watery bronze look to this that goes off the beaten hay/golden/orange juice look of many other saisons, but ain’t nobody complaining. I enjoy the light lacing, little spotty foam like a jacuzzi that has too many people in it.

If you open this at a tasting, you instantly become the pimp of the year

S: This has a light lactic tartness on the nose that is faint and reminds me of Fuji Appleas, you get a little bit of musk like puppy fur, and there’s some hay and faint herbal aspects to this. Everything feels like it has been turned down a couple notches. It is a gentle Fantome, the most chill of the ghosts, timid but sweet in execution.

T: This has an incredible musk meets light tartness to it like lightly salted hawaiian rolls. The mild honey pokes its head through the curtains and sees that its stepdad, lemon peel, has attended the rehearsal. All is well. This is simple but incredibly refreshing in the sweet meets light funk and light tart. Everything is just gentler and drapes a bretty shoulder over your shoulders to comfort you.

If you plan on getting into Fantomes, say goodbye to your expensable income. srs.

M: This is incredibly light and crisp as the same time. The watery aspects wash away clean, leaving you no time to ruminate over that should have been. The splishy splashy aspects make this on the Hill Farmstead Clara level of refreshing drinkable. If this bottle wasn’t $15.99, it might actually be sessionable, but I don’t know how hard you ball. I could drink this all day while watching a Night Court marathon, but that is how I roll.

D: Again, just exceptional in the way that it is present and memorable but doesn’t make the entire date about itself. It lets you tell canned anecdotes and nods lovingly in a refreshing manner. I love how the crisp tartness washes away immediately and the light funk gives it a solid backbone to lean its ghostly ass upon. My only complaint is that a beer this refreshing and simple should COST LESS, but that is hardly a fair criticism to lay upon the beer itself. Beer don’t know about no economics.

This is a little darker than I expected, but no one is disappointed.

Narrative: Construction of the trebuchet was not going as planned. Despite Leonardo’s assurances of improved design, the siege would invariably take longer than anticipated and the fields of Milan would remain in Ducal control. Salvatorri doffed his cap and kicked a rock in front of him and looked out upon the Palazzo. “We-a never-a gonna finish this-a siege!” he bemoaned in what could only be deemed a completely racist dialect. The counter balance was all off and the projectiles wouldn’t make it over the dominating granite walls, design to repel Papal control. Just then, a fantasm appeared out of the olive groves, glowing a deep golden hay color, wearing an anachronistic bowler cap. “Weeeeell hey fellas! Plannin a castle takeover? THAT SURE SOUNDS SWELL!” the ghost smiled and draped his ethereal arms around the 15th century soldiers. “mio Dio!” Salvatorri exclaimed, but was instantly put at ease by the gentle approach and amiable smile of this old ghost. Some would call him, Booberryesque. The lazy approach to things and finesse put all of the Romagna troops at ease and soon enough, the old catapult was as good as new. Later, while impressing Milanese people into forced servitude and accepting plenary indulgences for killing traitors, that old easy going ghost showed up again, wearing a pair of overalls and a straw hat. Salvatorri continued pushing a dirk into a wailing serf and winked back and that old trickster ghost.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. Cantillon Brabantiae, A Beer Born in 1989, Older Than Your Illegitimate Girlfriend.

Well as if yesterday’s review didn’t push things to absurd new levels, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 1989. You read that right. This was brewed to commemorate a king of Brabant, or a governor, or maybe someone who bought a Chevy Nova in Belgium, I forget the story. Some epic shit happened and Jean Van Roy made this to commemorate that instance. Maybe someone beat Metroid without using the freeze beam and Jean was like “Well fuck all that, I am making a gueuze to make sure everyone knows this went down.” The problem is, not many people were getting their jimmies rustled in 1989 for this style of beer, relative to today. So let’s drink it now, and see what the fuck the business is.

The label has that Walking Dead sort of gothic charm to it, like you know it went through some shit just to be opened on a random weeknight in America.

Brasserie Cantillon
Gueuze | 5.00% ABV

A: This beer needed the ginger touch of a latter day saint and had the fickle cork like the hymen of a finicky prom date. It took a solid 10 minutes to ease that thing out and guess what, 23 years later, a slight hiss emitted and CARBONATION was present. I was seriously surprised. I mean, not enough to pull some Tony Stewart victory spraying all over some white trash people in the south, but admirable. My glass had tons of strange residue and floaties, oak, yeast, cork, god knows what. No lacing, no head, no stems no seeds no sticks.

A blast from the past, that is surprisingly modern.

S: This is hands down the most amazing part of this beer. This reminds me of summer nights walking through musky warm orchards in Fresno, the humidity and tool shed dankness just palpable in the air. You get leather, musk, worn bicycle seat, weightlifting gloves, and crushed leaves. That shit all sounds horrible but in tandem, it is like liquid nostalgia that puts you on your ass with reverence. Go right now, open your old comics or Magic the Gathering ca- oh, you played sports? Well why the fuck are you reading this website? Go do some sports shit, you’re still in shape right?

T: I guess everything in this review needs to be qualified by the fact that this beer is old enough to drink itself. HOW META IS THAT. Anyway, you get a nice sharp acidity that lingers for a moment and subsides into a massive funk like old laundry that imparts this tangelo zest and yearbook paper. It is like being sublimated INTO a piece of the past. It isn’t the best or brightest gueuze ever, but it seriously delivers on that haunting aspect of the past note. I didn’t get any oxidation or dead hand control on this beer, it was still very drinkable and delicious, but it did remind me of dancing to Tony Rich Project in 7th grade.

This is old, musky, and you know some tawdry things went down up in this mix. So much AIM cybering.

M: This was dry and extremely dirty, if that is an apt adjective. There was this entire memory lane aspect to this beer that could not be denied. You ever get caught cleaning your room and you suddenly are looking through all your old Wizards and Nintendo Powers and- oh no? WELL THEN GO DO SOME SPORTS SHIT. This site isn’t for you.

D: This is not drinkable on long sessions. Go to a lake and think about the hottest person you ever kissed, think about the worst, take a picture in sepia, watch a grainy VHS tape of yourself as a paradigm of vanity and try and reconcile that self interested mess with the current person that you have become. Look the past in the face and embrace the Hegelian historical dialectic.

Can you ever really make a 21 year old gueuze relevant to anyone? Only on this site.

Narrative: “ALLLLLRIGHT! We need to ramp up production ten fold for the next fiscal quarter!” The Belgian overlord boomed into the loudspeaker. The Belgian factory workers, sticky with pulp and apple skins could scarcely understand the need for this. Much. Produce. One thin worker began to sob into the sorting machine as he pulled defective granny smiths from the line. “Adelbrecht! Show fortitude! For how else will those who have mild vitamin C needs get their apples? Will they be supplicated with your tears my dear Adelbrecht?” He nodded and thrust his jaw forward and wiped the acidic juice from his face. Little did they know, all of these apples were not for eating, but fermenting. Their hours of tedious labor would be pureed into a slurry of wasted dreams for the swill of mass communication and sociology majors. The grist of their labor would be ground, not unlike their dreams, into a putrid mash to be consumed near rivers by reluctant underaged girls. Adelbrecht’s efforts would be in vain. The past had come full circle, the punishment of the future would be realized on a daily basis, unending, with disaffected prejudice.


Abbaey De St. Bon Chien, 2006 and 2009 Reviews 11% abv (REEEEEMIXX)

Your mom is a bon chien

The Bonnest of Chiens

2006 and 2009 BFM Brassiere Bon Chien

A: This beer has a tame gueuzey approach to life that crackles with some limited bubbles. There is no lacing and this beer doesn’t give a shit. You dont like it? Well guess what, find some other things to do, this beer spent the last 5 years all cooped up and it’s not in the mood for your sassmouth.

S: This is where this beer turns it into overdrive. Wow, the smell is like carmelized skittles burnt in a pan, nice crispy sugar, grape skins, smashed up sour patch kids and sour ropes. But, refined. Like when Willliam H Macy gets all super serio. You have a sincere reverence for it.

T: The taste is like the smell but it adorns a monocle. It has mellow sour notes with raspberries and blackberry tones throughout. I want to deny that the age has a factor but wow, this is exceptional top to bottom. It dries out the gumline but in a gentle way like the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer all tactful and shit. More skittles please? Oh ok, there they are.

M: The mouthfeel just crackles with energy and snaps with bubbles that seek to punish after a lengthy slumber. Each one bursts with a refined jolly rancher note. Great acidity that has muted over time and it feels like it hit its peak at just the right time. I wish I had more money and time to seek these bottles out, this is like a vintage VHS tape of Step by Step, you only want more.

D: This is an easy answer because of the style: more and now. This has such a great lambic/gueuze feel to it and just tastes refreshing. This Oude Bruin comes off healthy, crisp, and I can feel like I ate a slew of produce, WHEN I DID NOT. But seriously, this is just an amazing crisp offering that is like a series of bites into pear and granny smith apples that you spit out immediately, without reprecussion.

Narrative: “Please just stay” he whispered to himself, waiting for the box of fresh acidic produce that would arrive at anytime. “Aiden, I really have to sleep” Maybe it was the lack of protein in her bloodstream, but she needed natural c6h12o6 hotness or this deal would never be sealed. “Wait wait Jackie, lets just watch Planet Earth on Blueray” Michael pleaded. Jackie felt her blood sugar drop steadily and wondered “did he plan this? I feel so eslaypeee.” No one ever said courting a vegan woudl be easy. Did he know that her stoic diet would disallow any form of long-term drinking? “Oh EM GEE! Did you see those Bolivian tree frogs? So crazy!” He began to cradle her head in his arms “OH GOD PLEASE JUST SEND THAT ORGANIC FRUIT BOX ALREADY!” The two of them looked deeply into dilated pupils. ::BING BONG::: Saccharrine fresh fruit goodness had arrived. The two tore the crate open voraciously and each stared into each other’s eyes as they respectively sucked tangelos clean under the dulcent tones of David Attenborough’s narration.