0

Lambourghini Merci, St. Louis Tickers Be So Thirsty, Side Project in that 2 seat Lambo, fanboys tryna jerk them

Oh great another one of those “WINE AND CHEESE SHOP” instant whales. Just what we needed for this site, more inaccessible 50 bottle releases, because that’s surely what the average beer consumer is tryna read about.

The average beer consumer is still putting up double digit daily blog page views with some myopic post about recent mergers. OH FUCK NO WAY HOT BUTTON ISSUES.  You come to DDB for this type of shit:

toaster looks like its about to drop the hottest mixtape of 2015

toaster looks like its about to drop the hottest mixtape of 2015

So this is blend1 and, to be honest, it sounds preeeeeetty fucking similar to SIDE PROJECT PULLING NAILS BLEND THREE

“Blend #1 – 75% 2yr old Missouri Spontaneous Blond, 25% Saison du Ble Batch 2. Bottle conditioned for 5 months with our house Brett strain before release.” Merci1

vs

““Blend of: Oude du Ble that was aged in French Oak for 1 year & then aged on Apricots + 14-Month-Old Foedre Beer + 2-year-old Missouri Spontaneous Blonde.” PN3

ALRIGHT FINE, maybe they only SEEMED similar after drinking them.  Alright if Pulling Nails 3 was the ultra bright radiant acidic Duck Duck Goozey clone, then Merci is more akin to the grist and funky bitter execution of Cable Car 2008 or 2010.  Think 3F OGV vs. Doesjel (except with carb.)

The beer looks awesome, a slight hint of brassy copper belies the slightly oxy profile and musky undercarriage to this monistat adventure.  It is fitting that this was sold at a cheese shop, but some of the funky cheesiness was TOO excessive and some chunky floaters were present in the bottle:

PROTEIN SUPPLEMENTS

PROTEIN SUPPLEMENTS

Seriously, dafuq is going on here? Mad chunks in the lacing looking like beige crunchberries.

The nose is a nice blend of kumquat, mandarin oranges, clementines, cut brie, honeydew, cave aged cheddar, and a long musky waft like wet laundry. It really is a great funky balance between acidity and funky old components, like switching between Match.com and Tinder, to achieve balance in your unbalanced life.

Beat steady knockin, an I aint talkin ATIFICATION

Beat steady knockin, an I aint talkin ATIFICATION

The taste swings wildly and almost dislocates its rotator cuff trying to connect at a variety of targets.  You get slice navel oranges, wet bicycle seat, some leather and plywood, a bright lemon hip gyration from the Du Ble, but it is all tempered with this stale Thrift Store waft.  This is the funkiest Side Project offering this side of Oude Fermier and if you love that Brett C profile, whittling and twine, this is your perfect attic chugger.

Overall, this massive waley waley comes across as more novel but less delicious in sum than Pulling Nails b3 which I enjoyed more.  If you absolutely need something in this vein you can land some Belgian analogue, LOLYARITE who am I even addressing, or seek out some of the more bretty Lost Abbey offerings like Veritas 13 or Cable Car 2010.  Not a lot of fucking help there, I know.  Some of the Prairie strains do weird shit over time and if you held onto something like Puncheon for 6 months it would likely be comparable, or better yet, snag a bottle of Jester King’s earthier offerings like El Cedro and sit on it for half a year.

Do all them pushups to pump up your chest, I got a .50cal and a 750 that can light up yo chest

Do all them pushups to pump up your chest, I got a .50cal and a 750ml that can light up yo chest

You certainly don’t need to trade for this, but it is exceptional. The only American offering with this much gueuzey cheesiness and funk would be one of those equally whaley Funk Factory bottles like Dweller on the Threshold.  Or a bottle of Beatification with a couple years on it. So go get that then, FUCK, there’s a reason these beers aren’t falling off the shelves.  Go do your own due diligence or open a Sculpin and make the same tired ass post about “MY LOCALS RULE TRADING IS STUPID SEE THATS WHY I DONT TRADE SEE I CAN GET GOOD BEER HERE SEE THATS WHY THATS WHY TRADE TRADE NOT WORTH TO ME TO ME TO ME TRADE ISNT I MEAN ITS GOOD BUT NOT TRADE WHY WORTH VALUE LOCAL TO LOCAL TO ME” and just read it at a 160bpm pace.

Same tiring shit, all day, EDM high-handed condescension.

Advertisements
1

On the Real Tho, What the Deal with Side Project Framboise du Fermier?

Alright we all know the lore behind this shit.  300 bottles.  Midwest hype.  1 per person per mule per grandma per collateral body present for the tickets that were allegedly/surreptitiously handed out to selected attendees. At least that is the way I heard it.  No sooner than buttholes were healing from the anal fissures attendant to the prior two fruited fermiers, this drops and all the sad tickers are carrying around their pink socks lamenting self-inflicted Fedex woes.

Let’s not get it twisted, landing this is going to be an exercise in self-flaggelation and St. Louis fecespeddlers have no empathy or shame in their rapacious requests. It is kinda like in the Ostfront when Germany was retreating, after years of dealing out abuse, the rest of the trade world is about to receive some grim comeuppance from an area that previously held Schlafly as the piece de resistance. “If they do only a fraction of what we have done to them, we will be in complete ruins.”

Alright so, whale pedigree, whale expectations: BUT HOW DOES THIS BERRY BANGER EVEN TASTE? Let me introduce you to my stove, traps queens on deck.

That look is undeniable. God damn.

That look is undeniable. God damn.

Fruited Wild Ale, 8% abv

St. Louis, Missouri

Straight out of the gates, look at this majestic cranberry, roseate, blood of the nonbelievers spilling on the cobblestones.  It is easily one of the most beautiful wild ales this side of Cable Car Kriek and has flawless carb, sheeting and this delightfully filthy dance of residual seeds and flesh dancing in the globe. Stepdad is gonna spank those 9th grader asses stop sign red for opening his pink beer while he is at work at Cici’s Pizza.

I braced for some acetylaldehyde or maybe a touch of some formative Rose De Gambrius vinegar, but the whole affair takes things to the redline zone in every way.  There was no expense spared, no restrain used, no nuances employed, this is a 9 minute long raspberry Dragonforce solo that melts your baby momma’s face when she looks at it directly.  It is liquid fruit by the foot, gushers, red 5, muddled berries, smuckers, intense acidity that burns your eyelashes magenta, and waves of so many hispanic roadside fruitstands.  I imagine this is what it would feel like to get jumped into a gang, in a berry field.  It is just too much of a good thing to the point of being berry incarnate.  It cannot be reasoned with.

Behold, the ruby weapon, awakened after so many millenia of hateful slumber under the desert.

Behold, the ruby weapon, awakened after so many millenia of hateful slumber under the desert.

The taste takes the acidicty, fruit, and completely tactless overkill of the nose and takes it to suborbital heights.  This is not the Platonic form of a framboise, it is some malevolent Mojoverse where science has been harnessed to go beyond the berry into a weaponized raspberry neutron bomb.  It is ambrosial and deriding, like that abusive girl you met on Tinder who only hits you up after 3am. Given the quality of the interaction you tolerate the violence, if under suboptimal circumstances.  This is unlike ANY berry beer you have had, RASPY or otherwise.

Let me underscore something: this is NOT a one dimensional lactic acid bomb like Upland moves through the basic palate raffleranks. This is those end game weapons that are so powerful that they break the game as a result. Alright you know how everyone has a rock hard lambic boner for Framboos despite the fact that 2014 was flat and riddled with exit flaws? Imagine that is something like Old Rip Van Winkle 10. This, by contrast is something completely more insane, outside the penumbra of your training, this is uncut barrel strength WLW that will not be dominated.

clacking those pink bottoms, all these poverty tickers belly up to the bar tryna throw singles at a raindance tick

clacking those pink bottoms, all these poverty tickers belly up to the bar tryna throw singles at a raindance tick

There are waves of tannic skins that spin down your mid palate with delicious black cherry and currant heft but streak like an orbital laser, exothermic destruction on the back palate.  I had to drink my first glass with a water nearby, not unlike WLW.  I promise you guys I was not being a tamponpalate, this is way over the top intense and made for the St. Louis 13 person tastings in which these are invariably only opened. The magnificent drag down the throat is like uncut raspberry blow, the drip is enough to make some tickers cough because it isn’t stepped on.

tfw you at work not embarrassed to read 900 words about a fruit beer but see this and close the tab

tfw you at work not embarrassed to read 900 words about a fruit beer but see this and close the tab

At about the last 8 ounces, I had two chapped labias on my face and had to “proof” the raspberry fury down and I cut it with a Highland Park blended saison All the yeast.  The blend felt like a resignation, like i quit, I Tapped Out like so many stickers on slammer Silverados. Candidly, the blend was incredible and added that grist and cheesiness that the beer needed.

It is not flawless, but god damn if it isn’t some straight up once in a lifetime barrel strength madness that has never been replicated. It is the beer form of the Dodge Challenger Hellcat, no one needs 702 raspberries under the hood, but if you have the cash to get it, by all means go fucking nuts on the backstreets.  This is not a daily driver framboise, the berry burnouts are far too substantial for my weak dentistry.

DDB gets that coveted berry banger and gives criticism, the music of weak bloggers screaming in unison

DDB gets that coveted berry banger and gives criticism, the music of weak bloggers screaming in unison

Thankfully, every Untappd dipshit will be checking in a lukewarm meniscus pour so small it cant even retain surface tension.  This bilateral exchange of misplaced reverence and undeserved pride fuels the current trade scene, with Kafkaesque results.  We can’t blame Cory King for that, but we can blame him for not getting Mother 3 ported to the United States as Mother 3.  THANKS A LOT, CORY. FUCK.