DOUBLE RUSSIAN RIVER WHALE REVIEW: Toronado 20 and Deviation, At the same damn time

In honor of everyone rubbing their yeastclits on their bedposts over Plineyyy the Yerngerrrr, I figured I would finally knock out reviews for two of the white whale Russian River bangers: T20 and Deviation. One was a one off brewed in 2007 for Toronado, another was a one off brewed in 2009 for Bottleworks. One is still delicious, another one tastes like if you left Consecration in a Toyota Corolla in Tucson for 3 months. WHICH IS WHICH? We find out in today’s whaley review.

Oh shit, if you feel like reading about other SUPER RUSSIEN RIVER RARIEITIES, check out this Russian River Depuration review or if you just joined the beer game in 2012, here is a review of Pliney the Younger for you to stroke it to, since you are probably still in your hophead phase

That is Depuration, I just left it in the cooler next to some silver bullets for a couple months.

That is Depuration, I just left it in the cooler next to some silver bullets for a couple months.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
Style | ABV
American Wild Ale | 6.83% ABV (dat hundredths place value hnnnggg)

In celebration of Bottleworks 9th Anniversary, we are proud to present Deviation – a beer unique in every sense. This remarkable blend combines the oak aged diversity of PHI, Orphan Ale, and Sonambic Ale with 100% Brettanomyces Ale (Sanctification) and is bottle conditioned with additional Brettanomyces. Thanks Vinnie. Your beer is a testament to the art of deviation. 6.83%

Your buddy probably opened a T25 at one of your tastings and thought he was hard as fuck, putting up 8 plates, flexing wild ale lats on offshelf zumba tickers.

Your buddy probably opened a T25 at one of your tastings and thought he was hard as fuck, putting up 8 plates, flexing wild ale lats on offshelf zumba tickers.

Toronado 20th anniversary
abv 10.4%

The Toronado blend was 5 different beers blended together disproportionately:

1. Belgian style Quadruple aged in Firestone Walker (used) Double Barrel Ale barrels
2. Belgian style Strong Dark Ale – batch A in red wine barrels
3. Belgian style Strong Dark Ale – batch B in red wine barrels
4. Belgian style Pale Ale aged in wine barrels with Brett
5. Sonambic 100% spontaneously fermented ale – this was used to add acidity to the beer.

A: Let’s just get this out of the way right now, T20 is starting to get those oxy stretch marks on its thighs, looking a bit turbid and muddy in its old age, that wispy carb still holding up, albeit oldman strong. The robey tones are still intact over all these years, but it has seen better days. Deviation still looks fucking beautiful and has a certain grace and coquettish radiance that makes it more lustworthy than even fresh bottles of Temptation. The carb held up beatuifully and there was light lacing at the edges showing its virile life still pumping deep in those acidic veins. These pics suck shit because I didn’t feel like setting up a lightbox for some neckbeard enjoyment. I do this site as a favor to the boring ass beer world and tickers should be thankful I haven’t moved on to POV porn at this point.

Pictured above, the last 21 person tasting T20 was opened at

Pictured above, the last 21 person tasting T20 was opened at

S: The t20 is still intensely acidic with cranberry, currant, red wine tannins, merlot, huge acidic blackberry cab and a oaky musk. The musk is delivered in equal parts with a touch of oxygenation that is mildly cloying, but its too fucking big to be held down, like trying to spot your buddy who presses more than you squat, them tannic shreds throb hard and move weight. Deviation is a fucking intensely bright acid flashbang to the face. Take Zomer and ramp up the acidity, that lemon rind, cantaloupe, pears, musky brett, intense Slush Puppy acidity like a lemon lime detonation to the senses. It smells phenomenal albeit completely overboard, not in an acetic fashion, just aggressive in every aspect, zero hint of oxy or age on this. S.S. Indefatigable just sailing them seas with a proud ph2 stern.

sometimes things from the past return only to fuck your world up

sometimes things from the past return only to fuck your world up

T: T20 is a fucking disappointment top to bottom. That is not to say that it isn’t worth drinking, I mean, it is still a competent and well blended beer. It’s more like seeing that late 30s bartender who is all salty and jaded and you can imagine what a Kelly Kapowski dime piece she used to be. This was probably a complex decadent treat, now the oxy sets in like crows feet making it seem like a dysfunctional Consecration. There is currant and tart cherry but again, it is like a coovie of some old ass bottles of Rodenbach. Deviation is a vast departure from this model and holds up like those 1960’s Ferraris that are still graceful and will land you knee deep in the vaj. The lemon and intense oak, chardonnay, anjou pear, hay, old storage locker, and amped up Goozie notes. One of the best American Wild Ales that I have ever tasted this side of DDG and Cable Car 09.

bragging about drinking rare bottles of sugar water? Alpha detected.

bragging about drinking rare bottles of sugar water? Alpha detected.

M: T20 is still a massive beast, drying with an intense dryness that gushes like that fourth week of Lilith Fair. It is both hefty in mouthfeel and closing, but has a sort of dry depth to it that makes it incredibly drinkable. The ABV slides up behind your palate with a prison shank and puts in work on the bitter zones. Deviation is intensely dry, no reparations are given, antebellum south destruction to your gumline and tart zones. Go watch a Ken Burns documentary and eat an entire bag of Shocktarts and you will know the depths of the cankersores this can cause. Despite the rampant abuse, I come back for more, it’s like when I got all into cock fingering that one summer, all stretched out in self effacing pleasure.

Thinking about landing one of these? Prepare to deal with some shit and shit accessories

Thinking about landing one of these? Prepare to deal with some shit and shit accessories

D: T20 is incredibly drinkable, albeit slightly lackluster. I can’t really condone trading for this other than showing your thick meaty trader labias, dropping meat curtains on your tasting crew, those rare 2007 folds all weathered and undesirable. Tickers gonna tick. Deviation however, holy hell it is intensely delicious, amazing top to bottom, well worth the cost of entry and, most importantly, I cannot think of any readily available analog to this unique beast. Seek this out if you can, rally all those bottles of Backyard and Petit Mutant you can rally and cast them upon the funeral pyre with calm suttee to join your tastebuds in the afterlife. It is dro as fuck, red hairs, no stems no seeds, yayo weighed dry without being stepped on.

Narrative: read the foregoing 1000 words and finger your butthole in the shower with an Axe loofa.

reviewing them nostalgic old whale ticks, high off that juice

reviewing them nostalgic old whale ticks, high off that juice


Russian River Depuration, Let’s Set This Depomation Record Straight for the Haterzzzz

Alright so if you were around way back in the 2011’s there was once a shithead with no foresight or foreskin who kept pumping a shitty brett forward homebrew clone of Depuration. That beer is now deep in the annals of history as Depomation, a perfect product of hype whose 42 bottle yield and Jefferz5000 label only the most legit/now deleted accounts got to savor. With LurchingBeast and Spdkilz and DJbutters having drank the last bottles we can finally move on and stop talking about that Shasta offbeat/beatoff clone. Let’s review Depuration, sip Pediobear and rub pellicles on some mantits.

Before you pay your shitty $500 mortage on your 5 bedroom Indiana home, that pour doesn't mean I am one of you.

Before you pay your shitty $500 mortage on your 5 bedroom Indiana home, that pour doesn’t mean I am one of you.

Russian River Brewing Company visit their website
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This has minimal levels of carb and sits murky and not giving a fuck like a girl with headgear on at prom that gets no love. In a word this is straight Doesjelling, if you know what I mean. There is a tepid aspect that swirls with some lackluster zero-fucks-given wispiness and a deep orange at the center. Here is where you talk shit about the size of my pour again, and then oh wait I skulled the vast majority of this bitch:

Before you ask: yes I later blended it with Coors Light.

Before you ask: yes I later blended it with Coors Light.

S: The nose on this is fantastic and taking it head to head with a 2012 Temptation shows that what this beer lost in lovable acidity, it gained in muskiness and depth. There is an oakiness, sweetness akin to martinelli’s cider that I can only assume was the remainder of the grapes, a deep leather and hay combined with dry yard trimmings and a lemony acidity closes it out. As far as AWA’s go, this holsters the juvenile acid overload and proceeds to neck kiss up on 41 year old substitute teachers. “Mr. Vinnie doesn let us-” “Well I am not Mr. Vinnie.”

Bros be showing up at a Depuration tasting with Mexican Cake variants, the lulz not insubstantial straight cascading through my palatial estate.

Bros be showing up at a Depuration tasting with Mexican Cake variants, the lulz not insubstantial straight cascading through my palatial estate.

T: This does not taste as amazing as the nose would suggest but despite it being faded harder than Jordache jeans, it still delivers like a Body Glove t-shirt. The taste is almost creamy in its smootheness, there is a light tingle of acidity like pop rocks and a lemon zest that is coupled with some sort of darker fruits which was really surprising something in the realm of bruised peaches and plum. I be balling in the D league, speaking Swaghili. You could crush one of these far faster than Temptation, and honestly this is a completely different beer in every aspect. While Temptation is brighter and simpler like the girl next door, this shit takes you back to the days of hands soaked with yearbook ink and musky cardboard, back when boners counted more, back when you wanted to beat off immediately after a movie date. Less restrained and far more complicated times.

This is a sour predator but it gives you a deep acidic hug and you look deep into those golden eyes- whoa is this an erotic fiction blog now? nice.

This is a sour predator but it gives you a deep acidic hug and you look deep into those golden eyes- whoa is this an erotic fiction blog now? nice.

M: This has an incredible creaminess to it that coats and crackles like a strange pudding that has pop rocks and lemon juice in it. It is what I would imagine it would be like to go down on Jubilee or Dazzler. It’s not about the tastes here, it is the nose and mouth, straight ENT on these bitches. Temptation dries more, this provides a milky crackle to it like carbonated horchata, I GUESS.

D: This is wildly drinkable and did put that acidity up in me like paid experimentation. The only caveat is that since this beer is a one off/retired/essentially extinct is that telling people to seek this out is little more than veiled taunting. The best part of this is I didn’t have to drink this with 14 other dudes in a Joliet backyard with a bunch of 30%+ BMI dudes all photographing their molar units. I love it when a plan comes together. Oh yeah, and in case I didn’t address this fully, Depomation is wildly worse than this beer and essentially tasted like a brett C overload contrasted to this lactic/pedio masterpiece. Since there are exactly 19 running jokes in the beer community, keep those tired ass jams coming like playing Cupid Shuffle at a wedding.

Daddy went to jail on a come up at his Radioshack job tryna lock down some ticks.  Cellar shit is a sour life.

Daddy went to jail on a come up at his Radioshack job tryna lock down some ticks. Cellar shit is a sour life.

Narrative: It was a strange existence, being a single guy in a big city. I guess being the webmaster and server technician for Match.com just added to the burn. He knew his own shortcoming, Kyle Rancors wasn’t the most outspoken person, or the most witty, but he had the ability to defrag your kernel faster than most in that bustling metropolis. That wasn’t an entendre, his skills were really that misaligned. Sure, he could carry average banter, had a working knowledge of Gray’s Anatomy that made him seem cloyingly sweet, just no one that a girl wanted to have a raucous session with. Performing maintenance on servers that helped others find love just seemed like an ironic twist of lemon into his heart. He was a good guy deep down, and somewhere, a mediocre enzyme would fit with his substrate complex to create the perfect lock and key. Those are the kinds of things that Kyle Rancors would actually think. There was a certain creaminess to his interaction that didn’t leave you feeling greased up, but rather lubricated for a lifetime of fulfillment. Plus he could slang mad Pokes on Fbook with no DNS entry.




I was pretty shocked when someone busted this one out. Not only is this beer not bottled, it is very rarely on draft either. At first when he told me that he had Erudition, I cocked my head back like Ed Lover like “come on son.” But when that swingtop flipped open, I knew some Napa shit was going down, some straight up musky farmy hoppy goodness was unleashed. Thanks to Bombadil for this one, or his friend more properly. Let’s get it.

The most ironic thing ever is when people get dreezed and mispronounce this beer’s name, HOW APROPOUGH.

Russian River Brewing Company
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.15% ABV

A: This looks suspiciously like pale and crystal malts what with that light carbonation and the deep gold hues. I want some murky farmhouse hand giving me the business, not this clear, radiant beer. Where’s the mess? I am further suspicious because I am almost certain that this saison was pasteurized, which is almost a deal breaker for me, but if you can grit your teeth and bear it, dig in and proceed.


S: Well I am glad that they did not go all Three Floyds and hop the shit out of this, this is actually dead on for the style and smells like belgian esters, light yeast profile, some cracked white pepper, banana peel, and some light coriander. Again, my bitch ass wants more funk but oh well, I will settle for a clean archetype I GUESS. People complain about how boring the Accord is, but then they go and buy them by millions every year so it must be working, so sometimes the expected route is the most preferred.

T: This carries the normal aspects of the traditional saison and pretty much carries a paint by number approach with some light wheat, yeasty esters, some clove and light lemon citrus. There is no brett presence to this beer, which is kinda a letdown but you can’t boo a NASCAR event when someone doesn’t get in a horrible crash but, you sometimes hope for it.

If you merk a growler of this, be prepared to call Bank of America and/or the local authorities.

M: This is incredibly light and stays close to the book in almost every aspect. It isn’t as crisp as something like Cisco Saison, not as dry as Saison Vautor, and not as turbid as any offering from Hill Farmstead, in the end it is hard to really hang my hat on this or really knock it. I guess being unoriginal is a vice but when it is this traditional, maybe I JUST AM BEING A CURMUDGEON. This is saison week and the stakes have never been this high. THINK OF THE FARMHOUSE CHILDREN.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable but for the wrong reasons. This finishes too clean in a way and doesn’t linger at all, the lack of a resonant note makes it come across as something from the Belgian single or golden realm almost due to the drinkability and simplicity to the execution. Then again, Super Meatboy sold like a billion copies on Xbox live, so maybe people enjoy the simplicity of a pedestrian existence.

FIREWORKS: this beer does not evoke them.

Narrative: Waylon Brannings ate the same tuna fish sandwich for lunch, wore the same mauve suit on Thursdays, and was the paradigm of predictability. However, he was the best analyst at Association for the Study of Peak Oil and Gas. Some would say that he is forgettable, he would sharply reply that ASPOG is the most influential organization supporting the “peak oil” theory, meaning that future oil supply will be much less than commonly expected, and he will make sure that you know all about it. Specialized to a fault and forgettable at worst, his mahongany shoes click the floor metronomically while he works at the whiteboard. It is always interesting to meet someone new, however, most people forget old Waylon after he leaves the room. That doesn’t make his mission any less important: To study depletion, taking due account of economics, demand, technology and politics of natural gas. Most people wont dislike him, they simply wont remember him.


Russian River Row 2/Hill 56, Off The Charts Drinkability, Despite Those Annoying Simcoe Hops


Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Pale Ale (APA) | 5.80% ABV

A: It appears like a watered down pliny the elder with a sort of muted yellow and milder golden disposition, everything just feels like spinning a record at 33 rpm instead of 45 rpm. Muted but relaxing.

I am not a good at beer review but I know good pale ale when inside my mouth face.

S: The smell is a vaporous fog of well balanced hops, straight simcoe to the domepiece, but nothing worth writing home about, some mild lemon elements akin to the Bowser Jr. of Pliny the Elder, the misplaced child of Blind Pig. There is a light pine resonance on the backend.

T: the taste is more refreshing but less fulfilling than Bling Pig. It was like they phoned it in to attract a bigger audience or in an attempt to loop catch the hop loving swing state. That doesn’t make sense though because this is incredibly limited. It seems like they made this as a loophole to attract beerlovers only to bait and switch them with a tame product. Maybe some people want tame, fuck if I know, I beat Chrono Trigger and got most of the endings.

This doesn’t flip pale ales inside out, but it is pretty refreshing.

M: Again, save the journal and the bic pen, this will be forgettable if for nothing else than its balance. Ok, if you enjoyed the movie SERENDIPITY and you love plot arcs that are confusing but immediately resolve. Well here is your beer. I felt it shallow and judged it exceedingly hard due to my strict Russian River standards. It’s like shaking your head at a mathlete due to not being able to postulate non-euclidian geometry. It is still good, but not good as I anticipated. There are some interesting peppery notes, but ultimately yawntastic.

D: This is where this beer shines, which always feels like a consolation prize. Drinkability is the “Best Sense of Humor” of the technical awards. While it is amazing and drinkable, this is hard to find, relatively expensive, and forgettable.

pic unrelated.

Narrative: Life as a cummulous cloud is not as glamorous as it seems. Sure you get to cascade across the sky buouyantly, impressing everyone with your majestic airs but ultimately you just end up as Iowa hail or Arizona drinking water. A fleeting life of gliding above the masses with condescending shapes is brought to task quickly with a wamr front or an affront from a mountain range. A world of Bourbon excellence comes crashing down immediately when the chinks in the armor are revealed. Upon further relfection, the cloud is only as majestic as its lasting quality. What previously looked like a flowing turtle now is a malignant sky tumor, descending in both strength and majesty. A child in a stroller looked up at the descending fog and felt it wet her face with a dew of what could have been.


Russian River Supplication BATCH ONE REVIEW, For those times when you need to prove you straight whaling.

Here’s a top 100 that I have lovingly overlooked for a while, like that sweet middle child whom you neglect the shit out of. Anyway, I am sure all of my readers have had this beer so I decided to bust a straight up GALEN OLD SCIENCE TWIST ON YOU: BATCH 1. That’s right, we dusted off the genie bottle for today’s review. You are welcome.

I hope you enjoy my instagramme` photo. I have had Supplication plenty of times, but I washed out this photo to show that I had it before it was cool. Back then wild ales were just called beers, you wouldn’t understand their early work

Russian River Supplication
American Wild Ale – 7% abv

A: Thick three finger head wit a red character to it, light amber with plenty of carbonation, well at first, then it reduces down to nothing. Age has not treated the beauty of this beer favorably and the saggy lactic malt tits are in need of a lift. There is sediment bouncing lazily throughout the glass, but it’s like old salty grandma from the 2008’s, you just nod and smile.

Berries be banging. Just wanna get my face all up in it.

S: There are tart sour notes of bitter cherry and merlot. there’s a funk to it, a bit of wet dog, but a sweet wet dog, in taste, not disposition. There is a nice lactic backbone to this but it has obviously mellowed quite a bit into a gentle juiciness with light oxidation on the nose. There is a bit of oxidation, but not straight up breakdancer levels. I can only imagine how fucking geriatric Depuration is at this point if this beer smells like this. Send me a bottle, be a homie.

T: Sweet introductory flavor with a strong wave of bitter tartness that is resonant of a sour patch kid, but refined with an aged pinot noir, the taste moves swift with incredible balance, the hops are so minor that they serve more as an escort to serperate the flavors than to impart authority, again the main perk is the incredible balance of sour with the underlying sweet. Above when I mentioned the hops, understand that to mean the straight up poltergeist of where the hops used to be. It is like their presence is the shattered shell of tame wild ale tempered in Hephaestus’s cool cauldron of time. This is incredibly gentle and subtle. It reminds me of muted elder vintages of Rodenbach that have funny stories to tell about the depression and when gas used to cost $1.45.

I popped this old ass vintage at Beer Revolution in Oakland and just straight posted up like a boss. I later opened Behemoth and BA Behemoth and people started taking pics of my trash. Fucking casuals.

M: The mouthfeel is just malty enough to carry the sediment and sweet dryness of the beer, any more and it would become a decadent fruit overload, any less and it would travel to a forgettable cider, the perfect balances makes this beer fantastic without overstaying its welcome. The taste imparts a swift jab of sour notes and then quickly resides, like a berry sniper. Compared to fresh Supplication, this is downright neighborly.

D: Some people may feel that the sweet notes are not high enough and the sour creates a poor man’s wine experience, I couldn’t disagree more. This is incredibly drinkable, not in the power hour sense, in a strictly delightful sense, the type that makes you wish for a couple bombers of, or a huge wallet to acquire these gems. This would find itself equally at home on a boat in the sun, or after a ski trip in the lodge. Incredibly drinkable. Then again, finding several bottles of this batch 1 gem would be a feat in itself. When this was sitting on shelves you were still perfecting your fingerbanging technique. At least Russian River got somewhere with their discipline.

Some vintage beverages are too dank for forget.

Narrative: The clicking roll and an L2 against an L3 vertebrae makes a percussive click clack with a certain panache that only Briscoe Wellingstone, berryspy extraordinaire can evoke. Some errant sour juice dribbles from the guard’s mouth, but Kiwis weren’t fit to guard a hostile embassy. He was hired as a young tart currant, trained in the most hostile vineyards, and was raised a pedigree in solitude for 15 months. Only this sour aging could create an agent of such brackish authority, such swiftly petulany candor, bitterly imparting a smooth sourness to the political fruit world. He rounds the foyer of the Tropicanaria, resolute to steal the famed cherry pit of Largesse. A hardened fruit son of a bitch, but with a slippery smoothe discountenance, lovable, yet stern in his demeanor. Mr. Wellingstone peppers the security cameras during an arching slide across the marble flooring. The pit was obtained, a sour finish left in the museum curator’s mouth.


Russian River Toronado 25th Anniversary, Don’t Tell Me You Forgot Our Anniversary, Baby

I feel like Toronados is the golden baby of the beer bar world. I swear that anytime that this place has an anniversary, bris, or restructuring of their corporate board, breweries find some damn reason to shower them with .rar walez. Alpine made a double batch of Nelson to celebrate and I MISSED OUT ON IT. But oh well, let’s see what Russian River has up their sleeve in today’s review.

Throw some 25’s on the whip, barrel blend is so sick.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 8.75% ABV

Toronado 25th Anniversary Ale started out as six individual brews, each with their own personality, and all incorporating Brettanomyces and or micro-organisms. Once the barrel aging was complete, Russian River’s Vinnie Cilurzo and Toronado’s David Keene got together to create the final blend. To create its fine carbonation, we re fermented the Toronado 25th Anniversary Ale in this bottle. Spent yeast cells from a thin layer of sediment in the bottom of the bottle. Pour slowly, allowing the natural yeast sediment to remain in the bottle.

4% Sonambic (barrel aged for 15 months)
16% Blonde Ale (barrel aged for 8 months)
36% Strong Pale Ale (barrel aged 12 months)
28% Ale Aged with Currants (barrel aged for 8 months)
12% Strong Dark Ale (barrel aged for 12 months)
4% Baltic Porter (barrel aged for 10 months)

A: See all that going on up there? The result is a translucent orange hue with mild wispy carbonation that crackles and disappears slowly. This isn’t a particularly BEAUTIFUL beer like say, Ithaca Brute, but it has its own subtle charms, like that snaggletoothed woman in accounts receivable who always holds the elevator for you.

This blend got mad swag, gangnam steeze to the fullest.

S: This has a fantastic lactic smell to it that reminds me of Hill Farmstead Norma, since almost none of my readers have had that I GUESS I HAVE TO SAY MORE. There are aspects of cherries, orange rind, currants, fuji apples, and grapefruit juice. I don’t think that the Baltic Porter is pulling mad weight in the barrel as it seems to be incredibly acidic.

T: This is incredibly tart with a sort of refined Red Bull sort of sweetness to it that works well with the acidic profile. While cold, this beer is kinda one dimensional in the way that Beatification is just a 2D sour, but once it hits around 60 degrees the 3D glasses come on in a real way and you get a huge crisp and bright panoply of tart fruits.

This beer will get you rolling so hard.

M: This is puckering and very dry similar to an aged Temptation, let’s say b4. You get the oak and some lingering harshness but it welcomes another sip. The carbonation crackles and hits that gumline hard like Kimbo Slice, and the barrel be wood like a baseball bat.

D: This is insouciantly dry and doesn’t give a fuck if you can’t handle the puckering profile but ultimately, like a 14 year old girl I keep returning for this beer’s affection. It has a car. Ultimately, I wish this was a regular release amongst the other regular “-tions” but given how complex it is, I UNDERSTAND. Taking this beer to a bar with beer nerds present is kinda like getting your clit pierced at Claire’s, no one is exactly mad, but everyone is curious as fuck what you are up to.

This beer is daunting but completely satisfying.

Narrative: I dont quite understand Jacob, why is it that everyone wants to fight you?” You roll your eyes and offer this explanation once again “Alright fine, I got the same name as 5 other though kids in school and my dad is an MMA fighter and my mom is a WNBA player, those two people got beat up nonstop.” A sour taste fills your mouth knowing the struggle that you have faced on a daily basis. He looks puzzled and you stare at the principal’s snowglobe of Alberta and try to form a different explanation. “Alright, it’s like this see, if you wanna define yourself, sometimes you gotta be the bad guy, do things no one else does, like fight the girls softball team all at once…you see….no? Ok, so I got the same name and two bad as-” “LANGUAGE JACOB” “ok so I got two tough parents, so to prove my dominance, I go around trying things no one else does, milk enemas, eating lightbulbs, you know guy stuff, trying to prove my worth.” The tightness in your neck turns into a light acidity in your stomach. You have something to prove. It became clear that your laundry list of exploits was not exactly carrying the day for Principal Schlegel. “Alright to prove I am the baddest kid in school with the two roughest parents, I am gonna have sex with that Alberta snowglobe, see?” “That’s not necessary, you are suspended, get out of my office Jacob.”


Russian River Brewing Framboise for a Cure, The Perfect Cure for Those Thursday Blues

Alright before everyone starts bitching and pulling out their cellar penises: YES, this is batch 2. This is the old “Temptation” base not the “Beatification/Sonambic” base that all the fanboys rave about but guess what- IT IS STILL DELICIOUS AND PRETTY rartastic so let’s stomp smashing each other’s raspberries and get on with today’s review. For the cure.

The sales benefit breast cancer, the beer cures my lingering sobriety.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.50% ABV

A: Holy radioactive hell, call the mayor of Raspberry Town because his test subject from the lab has escaped. The hue is overwhelmingly beautiful and I am sure you could use this to light your way if you every got lost at a dark Filipino rave. It is straight up Mariana Trench bright luminescence with pinks and radiant Lisa Frank binder hues. One of the prettiest beers that I have ever seen.

I was already enjoying Temptation, and then Raspberry Dubstep happened.

S: This has a nice tart berry at the outset and a waft of lingering fruit dryness like a Farmer’s Market gone horribly right. The whole thing beckons like an acidic smoothie. There is a slight earthy note that isn’t funk but isn’t quite the berries themselves, let’s just assume it is ground up stems and seeds and sticks, put it in the air.

T: The taste is incredibly tart with a lactic aspect to it but the fresh berries balance things out and offer a good palate/bad palate routine that works well. I got a hint of Chardonnay but it’s like hearing the organ in a song by the Murder City Devils, you really have to look for it, the whole affair is dominated by fresh, tart raspberry preserves.

This beer is incredibly strong, but gentle at the same time.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and puckering not in the same acid range as those hot lambics or that asshole Sch. Kriek, but still holds its own with a light finish that leaves a lasting acrimonious memory and some signed raspberry headshots in your palate’s studio to remember them by.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and you might even be able to do it without a Mylanta chaser. It is incredibly simple in execution and lacks some of the funk and musk that some of the Eastern gems bring, but the raspberries and fresh acidic finish are too good to pass up. For all the problems that I had with Temptation, both of them, are remedied in this format with an awesome Oops! all berries panache. I will donate plenty of money for cures if this is the recompense. NPR needs to start just kicking out lambics for their members and watch how short those pledge drives would be.

I can see this beer changing over time into something magnificent.

Narrative: Macualay Culkin gritted his frail mandible and threw the copy of US! Weekly into the fireplace of his spacious 1 bedroom Koreatown apartment. “ADDICTED TO HEROIN!?” he thought to himself and looked at his sunken, pale features. “Look at you man! You’re the picture of good health, Mac!” The crimson rifts in his eyes pumped all white aspects a pale pink. “Sure, I might look a little gaunt once in a while, but living in Los Angeles, am I supposed to be in the sun all the time?” A paparazzi flashbulb pierced his flimsy IKEA curtains and he pulled them closed. “I know what to do! I must appear as the paradigm of health to my loyal fans.” He collected a biographical work concerning the expulsion of the Huguenots from the Bourbon Empire and a big bottle of raspberry juice. He headed directly to the Grove and attempted to look non-chalant while grimacing at the taste of real fruits. He could not understand a single word about the Edict of Nantes and looked nauseous the entire time. Next week’s issue of US! Weekly read “Kevin McCallister FALL FROM GRACE! IN DETOX WITH RASPBERRY JUICE AND UNREADABLE LITERATURE!” He lithely held his hands to his cheeks and muttered a faint “erghhhhh-“


Russian River Compunction, NOW AVAILABLE IN 24OZ ALUMINUM CANS

Just kidding, this tart gem is still walez. Most people go apeshit for vintage beats, large format Russian River sours, and even that elusive over the hill geriatric sucker, Depuration. BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS OVERLOOKED GEM? This has never been in a bottle, never been growlered, rarely observed in the wild, never domesticated. Let’s let guilt set in today’s review, because you know what you DID.

Draft only, no growler, DONG so hard right now.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 5.40% ABV

A: This looks suspiciously Founey, and has the light carbonation that unsurprisingly attends this elusive beer. The lacing is minimal, the head subsides immediately, and the entire affair calms down like a Lifetime movie really quickly. However, if you somehow have a glass of this and complain about its appearance, you are doing it r0ng. The gentle light orange and deep yellow hues are inviting but they remind you of that time you backed out on a trade, and you should feel bad.

This is a perfect illustration of how it feels to sip on this romantic portrait of an amazing wild. I did not urinate on myself, that time.

S: This smells like a blend of damn near all of the Russian River gems in a fantastic way. You get that bretty funk from Sanctification, a tart apricot acidity from beatification, that oaky character from temptation, and a white grape tannic profile from that asshole, Consecration. It kinda feels like Fantome put their balls in this batch simply due to the funk ghost that haunts the glass, ain’t even mad tho.

T: Again, the funk pounds out beats in double time like Tower of Power. There’s a deep tart cheese astringency, old saddle musk, nice apricot and peach aspects to the tartness with old gam gam’s sweet pies. There’s a backend that is similar to a biscuity chewy finish and somehow the dryness gets along with it amiably. The whole thing is kinda like a kumquat shortbread cookie, since who hasn’t baked up a fresh batch of those?

When I am mashing out on rare sours, bother me nevermore, I don’t care if it is my sweet love Anabelle Lee.

M: There’s some breadiness and the pastries are kept in check by a hateful acidity that lingers, knowing of your past transgressions. No one saw that traffic accident, no one except this beer. Now light malty clues are arriving with strange alacrity. Who placed those flaky biscuits on the windowsill? Someone who KNOWS.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and serves as a venerable Megazord of Russian River’s finest offerings in a united, powerful form. I wish this was available in bottles as it might be the best nominalization from Russian River, gives me a nice -tion in my heart. Then again, I am glad this isn’t available in bottles because then people would just wipe it out and trade it for Allagash wares, or something.

The things I would do to try this beer again are numerous and shameful.

Narrative: “Ayla, this simply is not possible!” Taeyler gasped as she found a badly worn Tamagotchi sitting on her doorstep. “Taytay, no one saw what we did that day in Claires.” Even Ayla knew deep down, her pangs of conscience were tart and cold. “No one could have foreseen that stealing those magnet earrings and scrunchies would have resulted in that hemophiliac girl bleeding to death in the piercing chair. WE COULDN’T HAVE KNOWN!” But someone did know, someone with a deep acidic disposition and an affinity for children’s hair care products. They booted up the Tamagotchi and reeled in horror to find a dead gigapet, fed constantly but never allowed to use the bathroom. “What kind of sick-” Taytay exclaimed and noticed, on the dead girl’s electronic pet, an attached magnetic earring. The deep sting of regret and tart shame.


Russian River Pliny the Younger, Beer Predators Always Seem to Go After the Younger Ones

Boy oh boy, have we really come to this? A week ago we were drinking Rolling Rock and now we are sipping on the world’s highest ranked beer with careless abandon. Let’s rattle off some facts about this legendary (triple?) DIPA. First off, they don’t even bottle this beast because it single handedly submarined the Greek economy. Second, it is only available around groundhog day at a few choice locations, and only on draft. In fact, this beer is in an elite cadre of Draft Only No Growler (DONG) beers. So grab your dongs and let’s see if the hype is worth it in today’s epic review, written in dactyllic hexameter, JK!

When you see Pliny, especially in Younger form, YOU DOUBLE FIST. No questions asked.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 11.00% ABV

Here’s what the brewery has to say about this elusive hopmonster:

“Pliny the Younger, the man, was Pliny the Elder’s nephew and adopted son. They lived nearly 2,000 years ago! Pliny the Elder is our Double IPA, so we felt it was fitting to name our Triple IPA after his son. It is almost a true Triple IPA with triple the amount of hops as a regular I.P.A. That said, it is extremely difficult, time and space consuming, and very expensive to make. And that is why we don’t make it more often! This beer is very full-bodied with tons of hop character in the nose and throughout. It is also deceptively well-balanced and smooth.”

A: It looks like bright, translucent, molten brass with a deceptive clarity to the sheen. The carbonation, at least every time that I have had it, has been minimal and presents a hilarious little pencil lead head to garnish your hop-torn mouth. Did you really come into Pliny the Younger to look at it though? If so, maybe you are doing it wrong. Maybe Pizza Port just didn’t clean their glasses correctly, or maybe people from South Carolina take Boyking reviews too seriously, who IS TO SAY?

On the left, Pliny the Younger, on the right, immature craft beer palate.

S: This smells like the inside of a 8th grade stoner’s backpack. It has a deep resinous pine character that lends to a poplar, aserose, maple, and a sweetness that reminds me of the toasted orange rind garnish you commonly find on old fashioneds. However, as this beer warms, it lets some of the fruits loose to amble around the verdant meadows, and we are all edified as a result.

T: This has much more malt than it’s “older” bretheren and some people prefer that complexity. The bready and cornbread sweetness is damn near mandatory to buttress the hop bill that they have in this hop Basilisk, turning beer nerd pants to stone. The taste echoes the pine and foresty adventures of the nose but presents a new hat trick that reminds me of eating sweet rolls after a long day of raking pine needles. The creaminess of the taste really masks the ABV of this staggering giant and the entire interplay is really something to tip your hat to in the street, downright genteel.

This beer is a reason to lovingly long for Groundhog and Valentine’s day. A sweet solace to the horrible month of February.

M: The mouthfeel, despite the low carbonation, boasts a huge hop profile that works in tandem with the malts to continue the project that Pliny the Elder started, but takes it to absurd new heights. To some, this (D)IPA might come across as a new style altogether, shouldered with Ephraim, Devil Dancer, Knuckle Sandwich etc. however, this is deep down as Imperial as the Chinese shipping empires, and the hops resonate like a street basketball game.

D: Reviews like these are always tough to do, first because I have very little constructive criticism to coast the jokes upon due to the fact that the beer is just too damn good. Then again, I don’t want to knock this beer on accessibility alone, since that is an intentional decision. This is dangerously drinkable and you can’t help but wonder why others have failed to attempt this ambitious undertaking. Is it worth seeking out? Absolutely. Is this beer worth standing in line for 90 minutes and being shut out? No. Is it worth belonging to a mug club or stupid passport promotion to drink? Absolutely not. Is it worth buying $50 of charity raffle tickets only to lose on all of them and be denied access to this beer? No.

Is this one of the best T/D IPAs out there? The answer is a resounding “ya bruh.”

HEY LISTEN, I know you want PtY, but could you not post in forums about getting it in bottles? It makes you look like a shithead. Thanks.

Narrative: The boats bobbed softly in the bay of Naples and Pliny dipped his quill assiduously into the inkwell and felt mild vibrations through the legs of the Poplar table. “I must write in haste, for I fear that I have gone too far in my botanical pursuits this time.” The grumble of the dormant volcanic god, Pompeii, rumbled in the east. “In my quest for taxonomy and discovering different strains of the ‘wolf plant’ I appear to have cross-polinated in a manner repugnant to the soil itself.” The tremors became steadily more severe and Pliny’s hands shook with anticipation. “I seem to have created a strain of hops that defies belief, the root system is so charged with ‘aether’ that is has shifted the contents of the lower core, the oils are just too powerful!” The dirt-floored home shook violently and cast the aging octagenarian to the floor, a copy of Aristotle’s metaphysics lay open at his knees. “Please, tell my kin to abandon this deep curse, may the Gods take pity on my efforts at the River of Sty-” The Pompeiian mountain erupted, unleashing the hot hoppy fury of the wolf plant upon the teeming Romans below. Magma was truly the hottest DIPA that they had ever encountered, bitter coating sheets of obsidian and molten rock were bitter beyond belief. [FN1]

[FN1] entire entry reviewed for historical accuracy


Russian River Blind Pig IPA, 6.1% abv

Disable Pigs

Disabled Swine and OSHA Rules

Blind Pig IPA, 6.1% IPA

A: Thin yellow gold color similar to a watered down apple juice with awesome
lacing and carbonation, transparent with no middle carbonation. It’s a solid set of
Tim Allen stand-up that you grow to love.

S: Huge bouquet upon opening the bottle, great pine and grassy notes, not as
much citrus as the Pliny brethren, but smoother and less aggressive. The gentle, back massage
sort of game you expect from Bay Area kids.

T: The taste is crisp and light with a swift hop body the imparts its flavor, finishes
with a mild bittering and washes away clean. Great session beer and the ABV is a bonus.
There are some mild melon and lemon notes but predominately floral and grassy hops. A mint is left on your pillow lovingly by this pig.

M: Very light and crisp with a clean finish. It feels like the swift nimble ninja of IPAs.
It doesn’t impart a huge malty body but the bottle disappears staggeringly fast. The hops and
coating doesn’t linger or resonate for a long period of time but it is still satifying.

D: This beer is probably the most drinkable IPA that I have ever had. A great session beer
to be sure and the body and light malts make it refreshingly addictive. The fact that they
do not sell these in 6 and 12 packs is almost intentional malfeasance. I can’t really see
myself only buying one bottle of these given the price and drink ability of the bottle. The
16.9oz bottle is another strangely enticing aspect. All in all, I would with hubris and the
utmost respect play deferential beer pong with this beer due to its incredibly versatile light

Narrative: “Ah not another stupid Kevin James movie!” the children bemoaned in unison.
To be fair, 11 years old is far too along in years to enjoy a three act train wreck of that
magnitude. The babysitter chortled and guffawed a bit in protest, shaking his sleekly shaven
face. “If Mall Cop is not the movie you start, what is it your disdain for this Paul Blart?”
The kids perked up at the dapper disabled pig addressing them so casuistically. “Perhaps you
harbor dislike from seeing Bewitched, well enjoy Will Smith and this movie Hitch” the dvd
slid across the coffee table and Mr. Pig adroitly knocked it into the tray. He appeared
overdressed at each of his assignments and, being blind, was hardly the pig for the job,
yet somehow his panache and particular sense of aplomb put parents at ease. “I know you
tire of little kid stuff, here’s flatulence jokes in this movie Grown Ups!” The children
two stepped in syncopation loving their blind caretaker and tugging at the tails of his
tuxedo lovingly