Highland Park Brewing made an Adjunct Stout for Woodshop 10th Anny and didn’t even screw it up. HOW?

October 8, 2015 | dontdrinkbeer

DDB is full of inconsistencies. Sometimes breweries get lit up for using ingredients as a crutch, others get praise for the same shit. Ideological conflicts rub like strike slip tectonic plates creating that magma friction rumbling that is too underlying to ignore. The ultimate benchmark of the aesthetic valuations primarily lies in this amorphous conception of “net quality.” This may be some cloud of invincibility to retreat within when the sky is blackened by projectiles alleging “HOMERISM” or “CONSUMER BIAS” or “GEOGRAPHICAL FAVORITISM” but there are instances where, regardless of the placement of the brite tank, some people are simply more skilled at metabolizing sugarwater into ethanol.

These are the trappings of deconstructive commentary, the thin veneer of objectivity predicated at all times upon an aggregate of subjective impressions. No amount of ground effects or aluminum triple tier wings converts a Dodge Neon Expresso into that which it is not.

That being said: Highland Park Brewing made a fucking awesome stout riddled to shit with adjunct ingredients. Allow me to elaborate.

the entry wound is sick but the exit wound is that of cyclopean nightmares

So let’s lay some foundation for this shit before we bust out the triple beam and start bagging up the raw:

“Brewed for The 10th Annual Woodshop Tasting(s) in San Diego and Los Angeles, 10/3-10/4/15. A double oatmeal stout with Trystero Ethiopian Dry Process Yirga Cheffe Buufata Konga coffee, lactose, cinnamon, vanilla beans, and cedar.”

They sold these at the Woodshop blind rating/bottleshare. Most people were too rekt to even buy these at the event or completely forgot because they left a toddler in their idling Pathfinder.

The carb is minimal, but you probably weren’t legitimately expecting some effervescent bubbler of mocha foam. If you remember my lengthy write up of the strengths and weaknesses of HPB you will recall this is a brewery that makes incredible saisons but bigger beers that are underwhelming because they are too fucking attenuated and thin.

But it’s not tho

So on paper we have 1) non-barrel aged 2) adjunct stout 3) made by a brewery who exhibited difficulties making a hefty beer 4) cedar. I was like “god fucking damnit” and almost bought zero. Thank god I did because this was a 12:1 runaway that cashed out hard.

The problems with other Highland Park Beers are decimated by the same thing that fucking RUINS stouts from Florida and the midwest: lactose. You see, other breweries don’t have a program focused on dialing in dry/clean beers. Highland park has TOO MUCH in this regard. As a result the lactose fills in the hole of the mouthfeel like a decadent sex doll. The sweetness from the lactose is tempered by PHENOMENAL coffee, a dry roasty floral execution like Stumptown rounders. The cinnamon, like a best friend “there for moral support while she picks up her things from your apartment” thankfully shuts the fuck up. It is a little crackle of spice that feels like rye oak and not some Cinnabon mall centerpiece.

No the DDB bullet openers aren't for sale, I'll do a post about that later.

No the DDB bullet openers aren’t for sale through DDB, I’ll do a post about that later.

The problem of lack of barrel aging loomed like them ships in ID4: WHAT WILL ADD THE DEPTH TO AMAZING MOUTHFEEL AND COFFEE BLASTS? Shockingly, cedar helps to dry out the sweetness from the lactose and serves as a foundation in conjunction with the coffee to make a faux american oak taste. This might be the singular example of these ingredients not completely fucking ruining a beer. The vanilla rounds out the butterscotch/coldstone creamery GOTTA HAVE IT barrel experience. It feels deceptively barrel aged, and I am content to drink the Kool-aid and put up with all of the bullshit because the net result is a fucking PHENOMENAL beer.

I will do some filthy things to tolerate awesome stouts.

So in sum, this is the Mad Max Fury Road of the beer world: you expect it to be some one dimensional stupid shit that shouldn’t hold your attention and it comes out of nowhere and rocks your tits off, inexplicably and amazingly.

Tioga Sequoia Brewing, Piece of Cake, THE CAKE IS NOT A LIE, GLADOS.

February 9, 2015 | dontdrinkbeer

“This brewery only release from this brewery in Fresno is really tasty” is a sentence I didn’t think I would ever get to type like, “when I saw his collection of Katana swords, I knew we were going to fuck.”

I initially was highly circumspect of a SPECIAL RELEASE from these guys since, their blueberry saison was an exercise in cyclopean terror and GENERAL SHERMAN tastes like heavy ropes of jizz shot onto a pile of wet pinecones. BUT OH BOY WAS I WRONG. This beer is really fucking good, and not a single person cares about it, just how I like my reviews: ESOTERIC AND UNRELATEABLE.

I got the longest road if you nomsayin

Tioga Sequoia Brewing, Fresno CA
7.2% abv milk/sweet stout

The commercial reach around:
“This elegantly delicious sweet stout was created to be the perfect dessert beer. We age our chocolate milk stout on freshly ground coffee, Madagascar vanilla beans, and toasted coconut to represent a similar flavor experience to a German Chocolate Cake. When you find yourself looking for something different, grab a Piece of Cake!”

A: This looks elegant and dances playfully, evidencing its sweet stout roots, ducking and dodging with beige foam that clings and drags like a drink from Starbucks, without dipshits writing tired screenplays on their Macbooks. The dark hues reveal milk chocolate browns at the edges that appears highly drinkable without residual sugars staining the glass or dragging ass all over the place.

Listen, you dont need your stouts to be hard as fuck, sometimes a thin classy approach is just fine.

S: This has a phenomenal nose of coconut, massive coffee, vanilla, waffle cone, snickers, and dry roasty finish. I was expecting this to be some C6h12o6 massacre but it surprisingly dry and toasty, with an almost mineral chalky finish to the nose that is oddly welcoming and makes it feel crisp and clean in light of the sweet aspects. Really solid through and through.

Until you hit some 559 breweries, you wont evn know real beauty

T: This leads first with the coffee foot in a massive way. This shocks me to no end because, I have searched HIGH AND FUCKING LOW for good coffee in Fresno. I looked at all the Yelp reviews and there’s a place called REVUE, that doesn’t even have coldbrew/kyoto/Chemex/v60/pourovers and THAT IS IT. So where did this phenomenal coffee come from? Surely not the Yuban drinking contingency of the 559, I can assure you that much. The vanilla and coconut aspects play in tandem cascading like almond joys and Kit Kats, but the whole affair never because too oily/sweet/sticky/decadent. The taste is more like a robust porter in execution because you dont get that sickening glucose/lactose finish that is present in some sweet stouts. It is so balanced and finishes long and toasty. Again, it is like a baby BA Speedway, a sessionable BCBCS of sorts.

M: This may be what carries the day for this Central Valley banger, the finish and swallow never lingers and its strangely refreshing in a segment dominated by beers with 1.040+ finishing gravity. The watery aspect kinda reminded me of Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald but with a ton more going on thanks to the adjuncts. “THANKS TO THE ADJUNCTS” is another sentence fragment you hardly get to read around here but, well twist my nutsack, there it is.

Top ten downtown skyline, easily.

D: This is highly crushable and sufficiently complex to avoid slipping into that ho hum Founders Porter sort of realm. This is an aberrant offering relative to the rest of this brewery’s catalog and I can only hope this is indicative of things to come. I think this was like 700 bottles but, I cant imagine people are hoarding or being covetous of this gem. The only issue is, I have no fucking idea where you will find a Fresno trader, their beer distribution is like Alabama-tier and I think there are like 5 traders in that city of 600,000+. In closing, BC’s Pizza is amazing, thanks Fresno for your top-tier Hmong gangs and exceptional coffee stouts.

Hey, for fun check out this site:
www.FRESNOBEER.com

Goose Island Bourbon County Vanilla Rye, It is Actually that Good. God Damn it.

December 23, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

DDB is no stranger to eating shovelfuls of molten crow. Back when I was yapping off at the nanners before the BA Barleywine tasting, the midwest cleaned up and Great got the heisman right to the chest. It’s fine to be wrong and tuck the acorn peen between the thighs. In this instance being speculatively wrong has never felt so right: BCBVR is amazing. I can’t backpedal or use artful qualifiers to wriggle out of this one. It really is that good, lamentably. Let’s get to it already and get this pageantry over with.

NUCLEATION!? This review is now completely worthless.

Imperial Stout, Chicago, 13.4% abv, whalezbro

Ok so what sets this apart from the previously, already good, BCBVS? Different beans to flick, different BALs to juggle. Bourbon in the previous iteration and rye in the current one. Let’s get to it.

A: This has a thinner aspect than coffee and the other variants with less sheeting and less, more carb, and just overall seems livelier. There is a degree of balance to what is typically intensely massive and just looks dead on in every aspect.

S: The nose is rich and decadent with layers of waffle cone, vanilla milkshake, Whoppers, nougat and of course sticky vanilla. This is not vanilla extract or Yankee Candle or Glade Plug In, legit WE ARE BAKING SNICKERDOODLES, vanilla. It is frustratingly good, it’s difficult to take in the layers of smells concurrently with the gnashing of teeth.

I got Xannies in a Bourbon County bottle, I dont take them shits but you

T: This is a touch thinner than regular BCBS but shines as a result. Without hefty residual sugar flab, the bakery goes into full production with mounds bar, almond joy, rich chocolate notes, cake pops, and a lingering sweet vanilla finish. IT never becomes too sweet for its own good and delivers without excess the promise of that bean. It is an unquestionable improvement over regular and coffee BCBS, I prefer it to Propreeshitors, baconator or otherwise.

M: The rye barrel takes this to places that made the original BCBVS seem uninteresting. The spicy crackle from the rye helps to offset the sticky vanilla and seems to thin out the vanilla oils with a touch of balance adding nuance and depth to a beer that could have been like sticking your cock in a soft serve cone. It is the thinnest of the BCBS treatments since Cherry Rye and just works so well with a light fusel heat and crackle along the gumline. It is silky but never flabby, excellent carb and you keep hitting up the ATM to get more vanilla singles/fun tickets to rain on the stage.

PART OF THE FUN IS ATTENDING BLACK FRIDAY RELEASES WITH MY PALS IN CHICAGO

D: This is just an outright phenomenal beer and no amount of brow furrowing, or quoting distro numbers, or making fun of dipshits on the trade boards will change that fact. I could try to whip up a 2 minute youtube masterpiece to bring myself to terms with this but, it is just simply too well done and widely available to the masses. Sure there are other stouts that are better, but with a much steeper casting cost. This wont tap your lands that hard, relative to the other top tier stouts. It would be absurd to tell a DDB reader to seek this out, but I would temper that sentiment with “within reason.”

A solid stout for the holidays, but don’t crack your nuts landing it.

Top 10 Reasons Why Basic Bitch Palates Love Adjunct Stouts

September 29, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

Between PIRATE BOMB, and BA MEXICAN CAKE SETS and BA ABRAXAS and BIGGELESWADE DERK LERD AND STONE’S NEW CINNAMON TOAST AFTERBIRTH PLACENTA EXTRAVAGANZA: we have been perineum deep in adjunct stouts. There is something about the allure of all them ingredients on the label that drive basic tickers absolutely banana sandwich. Today I try to sum up why n00bs and sundollar nippled basement dwellers LOVE THEM ADJUNTIFIED STOUTS:

1. THE ABV
Most people attempting to stretch their anuses in the beer game go micro -> hop head -> stouts -> big barrel aged beers -> and end up as the permavirgin lambic coveter you take pity on wearing a tribly scribbling in a Moleskin, shit people should never read. Those journals look like Kevin Spacey’s from Se7en. But in the middle of this degenerative reverse evolution, pussy tickers get it into their heads that a high abv is something difficult to pull off, and they are forged from the cauldron of Hephaestus just because they can slam a 13% abv beer. If you go to any basic bitch bottle share there will always be one dude talking about taking down HUUUUGE BEERS, his swampy armpits redolent with pasta water. Adjunct stouts serve up some high abv and that is anomalously a point of pride for people who don’t know shit. They eat it up.

2. THE COLOR, BRO
If you add chocolate or black patent malt to 168 degree water, you are a fucking genius and god among men. I know most people see you as a sugar water stirring fuckup who was dishonorably discharged from the Coast Guard, but you learned HOW TO MAKE WATER DARK AS FUCK. Basic tickers love this shit. They use tired ass adjectives and sheet it on the glass to get those furrowed foreskins pull taut. To their even more basic friends, its a sign of bragadocio when they get to pop wheelies with adjunct laden dark liquids. SOMEDAY YOULL GET ON THIS LEVEL MAN “OH WOW I DONT EVEN SEE HOW YOU CAN DRINK THAT, ALSO YOUR TEETH LOOK LIKE BAKED BEANS, WOW.”

3. Flavors Any Dipshit Could Identify
If you haven’t tried that many beers, life can be a dizzying mystery of tastes and smells. NO ONE CALL TELL ME WHAT I SUBJECTIVELY TASTE IS WRONG. Is usually what someone who is completely fucking wrong will say. The basic bitch ticker loves adjunct stouts because the label says it right there. It’s like life insurance for their shitty impressions, no one can tell them that vanilla is not in there BECAUSE IT SAYS VANILLA RIGHT THERE ON THE LABEL MOM, GOD TELL ME BEFORE YOU COME DOWN HERE TO DO LAUNDRY. FUCK. Also, adding a fuck ton of an identifiable flavor makes it so they don’t need to learn about things like yeast strains, fermenting temps, or any nuances monoculture aspects. THEY JUST GET TO POINT OUT THE FUKN CINNAMEN BRUH!!!!

MFW i see someone offering up adjunct stout for an almost identical beer

4. Loose Familiarity with the Base Beer
Usually a barrel aged adjunct stout has some sibling that the local dipshit picked up at the local Binny’s. It makes them feel safe and secure knowing that not only will they have tepid observations BUT THEY GET TO MAKE OBVIOUS CONTRASTS AS WELL. While the regular stout was chocolate, the one filled with a shitload of Ancho Peppers TASTES LIKE ANCHO PEPPERS HOLY FUCK 100/100 BJCP SCORE. It is also this grounding in the pedestrian that makes these tickers want the EVEN RARERER VERSION SO MUCH MOARRRR. Sometimes the adjunct versions are even shittier, but that doesn’t matter. Just imagine the look on that Birmingham Homebrew Club’s faces when you roll up with the LIMITED VERSION of some shit they got at the grocery store. King among sleep apnea afflicted men, indeed.

5. U GET TO BE THE BIG MAN AT A BOTTLE SHAER
Most beers that you can drink by yourself don’t lend themselves exclusively to sharing it amongst your 13 closest degenerates. If someone asked me to split a Fantome Ete 13 ways I would LOL and show them where the Hennepin is located. However, if you have a 15% adjunct stout, it begs to be shared like a Burning Angel model. The guy whose personal life is in shambles get to feel special and relevant for a fleeting moment for pouring 1oz into a semi-stranger’s glass. Transitions lenses be fogging up hard when that cocoa version comes out, oh shit AND THE PEANUT BUTTER ONE TOO GUYS LETS ALWAYS INVITE THIS SOCIAL MAVEN.

6. Low Bottle Counts
Plenty of styles have low bottle counts, but who the fuck is trying to drink a SAISON AMIRITE? That’s barely a step above a hef. But when it comes to produce laden stouts, those bottle counts are gospel, regardless of what is inside of them. Often times, someone will tell you the bottle count before they even tell you what the fuck the beer is, as though that’s some MSRP necessary information. Again, we can chalk this up to two parts feelings of inadequacy and one part wanting to have the most tumescent beer pud while standing in line for, you guessed it, more fucking beer.

If you don’t know how to respect adjunct stouts, maybe you need to take a break from the trade boards until you get your shit together

7. GOTTA COMPLETE THAT FUKN SETTTT
The compulsive behavior exhibited by the mid-tier beer nerd lends itself nicely to collecting: most nerds went from pogs, to pokemon, to magic the gathering, to fake numbers from women who were repulsed by them, to setlists from bands no one gives a shit about, until finally that completionist glow of having three slightly different versions of the same beer. Beyond just letting them rot in an Ohio basement, which is sick as fuck in itself, you also get to show them off when one of your 4 friends from the bowling league comes over. Tucked in glass cases like aborginal artifacts, too esoteric for the common guzzler to wrap his mind around. NO YOU FUKN IDIOT THAT ISN’T BOURBON BARREL …that’s the RYE BARREL. I await the day that the holofoil vvariant labels are released and shit gets really real in the field.

8. Become a Master of Comparing Shit No One Cares About
If you have 5 minutes to burn while sitting in your cell on death row, ask a beer nerd which variant he liked best from the 4 versions of the recent adjunct stout. I hope you brought a blankie and some snacks, that monologue will feel endlessly long, like chain smoking Salvia end on end. If you have ever heard one of these philippics you will know that cascading waves of “bourbon had more…but brandy was a touch sweeeter…we all agreed that tequila was too…oddly I loved the malort barrel…” just whipping through the air like a gawdy baton of wasted calories. It would be like if there was a Koren War for decadent dipshits and these people enlisted HARD on those one way missions. Then they return with some stories to tell, real gourmand shit that will chill your soul, you aint heard cardinal or ordinal lists like these before motherfucker, that goateed warrior HAS TASTED SOME THINGS YOU CANT EVEN IMAGINE.

9. FOMO Immunity
If a brewery releases a limited beer that most people miss out on, you can expect that shit to be alluded to a million times over as the benchmark of human progress and palate calibration. If you never tried Southampton Black Raspberry Lambic, then you don’t know SHIT and can’t comment on anything until you do. Take that paradigm and make it tenfold worse because stout aficionados are the absolute fucking worst in this regard. If you miss out on one of the 84 BOTTLES of Apple Brandy Huna, then, why should I even fucking listen to this person, it’s like he lives in a stinky cave and subsists off of hearts of palm. Ok you had CALI BRANDY but whoa whoa, easy buddy, the adults are talking about APPLE BRANDY, why don’t you return to your duplo blocks or whatever it is you put in your mouth. Ticking rare stouts gives you an immunization from anyone being able to ever reference something YOU MAY NOT HAVE TRIED. The shield also works as a weapon in case someone is pulling rank, you just cut their asses down to size by referencing OH YOU HAVENT HAD JUST RUM BARREL HUNA? ONLY THE DOUBLE BARREL ONE EVERY TRIED? OH WELL I CANT EXPECT YOU TO UNDERSTAND. Then disappear in a cloud of black malty smoke like Altair.

with great gourmand power comes decadent responsibility

10. Insightful 1oz Blending by Drunk Assholes
If merely trying the beer wasn’t sufficient, be sure to instagram a bunch of pics of you and your 14 closest homies pouring nominal amounts from the bottom of the bottles to make THE ULTIMATE BLEND. Because then if people tried them individually, you can always piggy back on the ULTIMATE blend of adjunct stouts, to one up anyone. Basic bitch tickers love this because it makes them feel novel, like if Armand or Uli got into a severe car accident and acted like a complete asshole for the rest of his life. And the thought of being a part of that creative process is like Marcel Proust dipping his madeline into tea, a wave of bitch ticker memories wash over these pedestrian ass traders like a Remembrance of Things Past.

So there you have it. If you didn’t understand it before, now you see why the world of meaningless adjunct liquids is so meaningful to people who have little and predicate their self values upon 1%er limited consumables.

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT THE STOUT GAME WAS SUPREME

WHAT IS THE GODDAMN DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BOMB AND BIBLE BELT: An inquiry into synthetic knowledge

April 18, 2014 | dontdrinkbeer

I have gotten this question a few times and figured since I finally stopped fucking around and ticked Bible Belt, I would address this once and for all.

First and foremost, this is Bomb! (mandatory exclamation point, like P!nk)

HANDS UP IF YOU LIKE ADJUNCT STOUTS WE ROLLIN DEEP IN THAT VIP

This set the world on fire last year and was touted as being an “off-shelf Huna” which is largely true, because Huna should have been off-shelf in the first place. That’s like saying “Holy shit I got laid at a Gundam convention and didn’t even have to pay for it.” If you are dropping 12,000+ bottles, put that shit in distro already, stop torturing the latently racist Floridian populace. Alas I digress.

Whichever one you choose you are going in deep on that 13% adjunct swerve

So this is an adjunct heavy imperial/chili stout with coffee, cocoa nib, vanilla bean and chili. I know what you are thinking “where the fuck is the coconut?” well you can’t get every adjunct in one stout, them’s the rules. So I already noted that this beer is awesome and better than Huna in my full review this was well-tread ground. They ended up making batch after batch of this, showing that Cgiar City has been twisting some cocks for quite some time now.

BUT THEN EVIL TWIN COMES ALONG.

Evil Twin is a band of vagrant European pikers who squat in established breweries and turn out fantastic/overpriced/sometimes shitty beers. Jeppe balls the fuck out, opened a bottleshop, brewed, and was discovered by Brian from 12% Imports. The owner, Brian, was like “Hey Jeppe, what’s ur fukn dream?”

Jeppe was like “I think my dream is endless actually.”

Then the dudes at Prairie were like “hey we already have this wildly successful stout from last year, wanna take your base beer and basically rebrew it with a different label?”

and Jeppe was like “I am definitely one of the most adventurous people that I know.” [FN1 – http://craftbeercoach.com/brewery-biography-jeppe-jarnit-bjergso-of-evil-twin-brewing/%5D

Chase was like “that’s chill as fuck, grab that mash paddle, Captain Adventure.”

So essentially, Jeppe is not a “brewer” per se, he is an intellectual property generator, a recipe creator, a flavor alchemist, a Danish twin who will grind your palate like a fresh sybian on the highest setting.

If you skull a few of these, you will probably end up in deep shit

So what the fuck is Bible Belt then?

A RADICAL DEPARTURE FROM A PRE-EXISTING BEER

So the base beer is different, but with a similar abv, and similar adjuncts cacoa nibs, chilies, vanilla, and chocolate. So one has coffee another has chocolate, “WHICH WON IS FUKN BETTER THO DDB?”

Even More Jesus has a slightly thicker consistency, coats a bit better, and ratchets the chilis back. Bomb is more akin to Huna where the adjuncts seem to be on full display with chilis and the coffee notes taking top billing. I prefer Bible Belt, but again this is like preferring a Camaro to a Challenger, it’s the same full throttle balls to the wall imperialism you are expecting, just with minor nuances. I wish I had more to say about this but that’s the long and the short of it. Maybe when I get my online Certified Beer Server certification I will have more adjectives for you.

The short answer: they are pretty fucking similar. That is to say, two amazing offshelf beers that are quickly becoming the Dogecoin of the beer trading world. “BA Derk Lerd? That will be 8 bottles of Bible Belt/Bomb.”

Seek them both out, or wait until Huna hits distro next year and give up 2x$4$ brewery-only releases to Tampa traders. Either way.

@firestonewalker Velvet Merkin, For The Discriminating Gentleman with a Regal Pubic Wig

October 2, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Well, once again I went to the brewery to get this 3000 case “shelf” release, since California 1) never gets Firestone bottles until 2 months after release and 2) assholes buy them up and complain about Sucaba afterwards. So basically, fuck California. So I traveled to beautiful Paso Robles to snag some of these oaty drops. The population of migrant workers harvesting grapes for overpriced wineries was SURPRISINGLY UNCARING about the release of this barrel aged oatmeal stout. It is almost like being paid crippling poverty wages for the production of luxury goods DOESNT MAKE THEM APPRECIATE A GOOD BARREL AGED STOUT IN THE 101 DEGREE SUN. Weird. Anyway, let’s review this shelf turd and pick out the finest pubic replacement fur.

You guys, look at the subtle triangle on the box, you get it? Oh man. You don’t even get it.

Brewed by Firestone Walker Brewing Co.
Style: Stout
Paso Robles, California USA
8.5% abv

Label nonsense:
This is our Velvet Merlin Oatmeal Stout aged in Bourbon Barrels and it just won the 2010 and 2011 Gold medal at the GABF for barrel aged beers!!! This beer goes into the barrels as a roasty dark chocolate, coffee accented mild mannered stout and comes out transformed as a milk chocolate, smooth dark cherry, vanilla and coconut infused masterpiece. We are incredibly proud of this beer and it seems as though it was always meant to be a barrel aged brew. 100% Oak Barrel Aged

A: This is a splishy splashy watery stout affair that links arms with gentle BA stouts like BASC and Event Horizon. In fact, basically any stout from the Carolinas will know this feel. Low abv, slick washy blackness that is a deep brown at the edges, straight entry level stout game for the babypalate haters who can’t dome BCBS and then pick the kids up from school. The cling is awesome and them oats just grip the edges like that 3 year old who wont leave the grocery store because he wants Skittles or some shit. Nice carb and great retention, but it is an oatmeal stout, what were you expecting?

Go to the store and stock up on bottles

S: At large, the whole affair from top to bottom feels like “Parabola Lite” in execution. That is far from a bad thing. Don’t interpret that as disparaging in any way, it is just different. Sometimes a 13% Parabola right before a Parole Hearing is a bit much, we have all been there. This is like instead of going for the 911 turbo, you opt for the stripped down Cayman R. Both have a certain appeal, neither is deficient. You get a muted bakers chocolate, cacoa, light roast coffee, mocha frap meets bourbon but the bourbon is as soft as a feather duvet just lowering its head and letting the roasted malts do all the talking. Again the whole thing is like a gentle handjob that is pleasant, but will bring you nowhere near completion.

T: This again is like Parabola dialed back, a support class mage, low DPS, healer stout that provides support instead of going tank steeze. You get the toasty refreshing malts, I know that’s a weird dichotomy. There is a bit of vanilla and baby doses of char, in the background you can make out some oaky presence but none of those elements are really in the game in a serious way. Sometimes cornerbacks can make amazing plays, but they usually aren’t putting up crazy fantasy numbers. Then again I know shit about beer and sports, so caveat emptor.

It is all fun and games until that ABV bite kicks in, secretly.

M: This is the most fantastic part of this beer and the only part that excels in light of the masterful big brother, Parabeezus. The silky oats give this satin sheen for the mouthfeelings. It just coats and leaves a nice sheet of creaminess that isn’t quite like nitro steeze but still amazing and whipped up like yayo in that baking bowl.

D: This is also more drinkable that Parabola due to the lower abv, cleaner finish, and silky mouthfeel. However, that is kinda like saying that a Mercedes SL is more driveable than a Murcielago. Some things are worth the inconvenience. This is just a different tool for a different job. If you have clitoral friends who complain that parabola is too “boozy, hot, thick, sweet” or some other ignorant shit: show them this. This is incredible in its own right and perfectly executed in so many ways, but it just isn’t that big beast that I have come to love being manhandled by. You know like when the stout grips your wrists and you secretly love the dominance OH OK I AM THE ONLY ONE ATTRACTED TO MALT POWER FINE I GET IT.

Some things are amazing even if they don’t accomplish exactly what was intended

Narrative: “PLEASE STACY, that is my grandmother’s Faberge egg collection you just NO! NO!” Anthony could only watch in horror as his girlfriend gorged herself on whiskey and oatmeal, destroying their possessions with careless abandon. “OK NO, now you are taking things too far, do not push my Body By Jake off of the balcon- NO!” Things weren’t going so well for the couple, she drank more, ate more chocolate, drank more bourbon, and broke his things as a byproduct. What was Anthony to do? The sex was amazing and she was his special Persephone, delving each night to savor the succor of sour mash and destruction. As bad as things were, she was still gentle compared to her older sister, who would ravage his bent genitals on a nightly basis. “Please, I have all of my FINAL FANTASY SAVE GAMES ON THOSE! HOURS OF! NO!” Somehow, it all evened out, she was sweet while sober and a complete monster when unleashed, but he liked it that way, secretly. “EARTHBOUND IN THE ORIGINAL BOX! NOOOOO!”

Prairie Bomb, As Soon As the Mashtun is up in the Benz, Ales be Poppin like Parkinson’s

June 25, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

This brewery has dropped a legit blitzkrieg on the trade boards and the offshelf distro world in general. It seems like just months ago I was sipping on the only available beer, Prairie Standard, suddenly places are getting like 10 different offerings overnight from these Okies. Their saisons were a legitmate experience, the hoppy offerings are clean and refreshing…but what about the dark side? Often times when someone is super cutty at the farmhouse world, they go to shit when they try and run a hook and ladder into the chocolate malt world. Remember when Jester King rolled out racksonracksonracks of “farmhouse” stout. Belgian Black Metal sounds like Vampire Weekend. Anyway, this is a huge stout with a list of adjuncts longer than my dick, LET’S SEE IF IT HOLDS UP.

This beer is Bomb, Lloyd Banks is not.

Prairie Artisan Ales
Oklahoma, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 14.00% ABV

A: At first blush this has all the blueprints of a walk down Hunaland, which is the gulag in Candyland most players never make it to. The oily sheeting is substantial but you can see its not just a residual sugar mess of needless sheeting, it holds a certain degree of poise and purpose, coating in black khaki but letting the alcohol sheeting zambonie that shit clean. This is substantial in depth and has the attractive cacao foam on top like some overpriced fixed gear coffee drink some stupid girl in a stretched out tank top with a strapless bra underneath would buy. The coffee, not this beer.

A beer this complex is sure to satisfy, use your tornado tongue

S: Alright, time to tap this core sample because we are dealing with some serious strata up in this bitch. Layers and layers of complex periods piled up like corkboard. You know all those adjuncts on the label, well they show up like Dick Tracy villains in turn on the nose: coffee, roasty acidity, a sweetness like Coldstone Creamery vanilla, a tiny bit of peppers submerged under the chocolatey decadence that is pervasive. No swappertunities here you Yoplait fucks, stout hard or GTFO.

T: This is like a Terrence Malick movie rolled into a liquid medium, I don’t know if I fully get it but damn it feels good to try. The whole thing opens with that coffee dryness, baller ass single batch fair trade painter handing out acidity flyers and drying until chocolate shows up dripping wet in a candy coated slab. A fucking 88 Buick Regal of cacao milk chocolatey goodness leaves trails of stick fondant and mousse on all the low-calorie haters. You can feel yourself enrolling in crossfit when you take each substantial sip, there’s no Instragram hashtag to motivate people to this panoply. The vanilla is ranked out and doesn’t show up at all, for obvious reasons. It’s like the cast of Biggest Loser entered an elevator and vanilla is the thin ass size 20 contestant in the mix. Thank god, the chilis are subtle and don’t go ham handed like Mexican cake. It provides more of a diaphanous crackle than a full on heat that deadens the palate. Abv called in sick, nowhere to be found, having a beat sesh to Judge Judy and scrambled Cinemax all day long.

This beer is strange, but it makes my socks go up and down

M: This doesn’t coat as hard as huna, but it doesn’t really need to since the taste focuses on two aspects that don’t especially need a deep lingering stickiness. It is somewhere in that Parabola range where you wouldn’t call it exceptionally thick, but it isn’t like Blackout Stout/Event Horizon or one of those svelte thin ass stouts. I am looking at you, size 1 jeans wearing Czar Jack with that apple ass.

D: This is tough to answer and I guess it really is up to your parole officer because sure you CAN put away probably 2-3 of these 14% beers. You can smash Goldfish on the entryway and leave a teary voicemail for your ex too, but that doesn’t mean you should. I think the 12oz was perfect, you get the blast of flavors, it opens up and sweetens as it warms and the affair is over with a swift economy that is approachable, unlike a Terrence Malick movie. This displays that poise that I wish some Bruery beers would give in their girth and 750 format, my liver and love handles can’t take it.

This beer is better than most of your other life decisions.

Narrative: The employees at Nestle were non-union, well, slaves really. The cacao factory in Bolivia was the only show in town now that Kraft had shut down all the local illegal logging operations with their new Chocomegalopolisplex. It looked not unlike Midgar with its huge Mako reactor filled with molten chocolate. The human resource department scrambled around the molten obsidian body of a 4’11” bolivian man who fell into the priming tanks. “GOD DAMN IT WE HAVE TO RECALL ALL OF THOSE CHIPS AT THE HEIGHT OF TOLLHOUSE SEASON!” one executive boomed. The tiny indigenous man parted his lips and the saccharine mud gurgled as he gasped for breath. “Por…por favor…no podemos usar…cafe…en la…dulces….” he stammered dripping mahogany drops on the acrylic floor. “WHAT IS HE SAYING! This is going to be a PR nightmare if we can’t get those coffee/vanilla/chili variants out for the holiday rush,” the production overseer fumed. An uncertified company nurse patted dabs of molted chocolate from Isidro, licking her fingers in the process. The press release would be a carefully executed affair, presenting all of the merits in a restrained way, albeit with underlying power and consequences. Isidro would receive a lifetime supply of Nestle Quik in both regular and strawberry variants, resulting in the unforeseen death of his village due to malnourishment.

Perennial Abraxas SHOOTOUT: REGULAR versus BARREL AGED, My Body Is Ready

March 20, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Ever since this god damned barrel aged Abraxas came out, beer nerds have not shut the fuck up about this beer. It was released in the midwest, which made shit even worse because it is not NASCAR season and people living in the freezing cold dont have shit else to do but wonder what those size 11 women look like under those North Face jackets. So today let’s just economize a bit: no narrative, no bullshit, just direct and to the point, WHICH ABRAXAS IS BEST? Someone from Florida will probably chime in with a tired ass joke like “HUNA IS THE BEST ABRAXAS!1!!” and we all nod and he sits back in his desk and goes back to learning his times tables and shit.

Let’s get this stupid ass review over with already.

REGULAR ASS VERSION:
Perennial Artisan Ales
Missouri, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 10.00% ABV

BALLER ASS 564 BOTTLE RELEASE INSTAWHALE GIMMIE ALL YOUR CHURCHILLS VERSION:
Perennial Artisan Ales
Missouri, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 11.00% ABV

Technically only 500 bottles were really released since one dude went and scooped up like 80 bottles, but, we all know about that story. I will leave the rest to conjecture/autoeroticism.

Regular on the left, BA on the right, zero fucks given in the middle.

Appearance:

I am not even doing this, they look almost exactly the fucking same. Seriously. It is like when people ask about the look of Goose Island Rare versus BCBS, I want to be like, are you fucking kidding? Ok for some reason, barrel aged version has a little bit more carbonation, but we are talking minimal amounts to begin with. This beer isn’t winning any beauty contests on either front. It is flaccid, lays there all dark and calculating. If you did a cuvee of Abyss and Huna you’d get the idea. Dark ass mocha foam, looking all like a coffee drink you drop $4.75 on. The sheeting is massive and if you are a wine asshole, “THE LEGS ON BOTH ARE SPLENDID!”

ALL MY TRADING PARTNERS ARE DEAD.

Smell:

Regular Ass: This is kinda vegetal, deep roast, some kinda bell pepper and ancho thing going on with no cinnamon to speak of, or really any spices up in that moshpit of roast and char. Go dice up some onion and toss it into a Surly Darkness, boom, you have smelled regular Abraxas. Perfect beer to drink at a Quincinera.

Baller tits: This is like a bowl of fucking Cinnamon Toast Crunch, it is sweet with no real peppers going on, no real bourbon going on either. It smells like what I imagine that Bimbo factory smells like, you know that place that makes all the treats that our migrant workers eat? That place. It is sugar and cinnamon and there should be a cartoon Frog on the front of the bottle talking about whole grains. It is straight up cereal beer. Cut up some rails of State Fair churros and snort those bitches, you just smelled Baller Tits Abraxas.

Taste:

Pedestrian Ass: This carries that roast in a serious way and gives a deep char with some drying smoked malts, bakers chocolate, faint hints of clove in the middle and it finishes with this vegetable/pepper/mole sauce sort of thing that is interesting, but not especially inviting. I mean, most escorts can probably tell some crazy stories about trips to the clinic, but you dont want to spend more than an hour with them.

Rainmaker Version: Again, this is like a completely different beer. This is not like the Baldwins where one is kinda good and the other is totally shitty, it’s like Ron Howard and his weird ass brother, you can’t even believe these two beers are related. There is no real bourbon presence on this beer, but the cinnamon and sweet brown sugar comes raging in, there is a crackle to the spices and maybe that is the peppers in the subterfuge, it is hard to say. If you like Horchata and use a prepaid cell phone, you will probably like drinking this. The perfect beer to drink while standing in line for your EBT benefits.

Just sit in waiting, be patient, they will make more, if people have sense next year’s release will not be like this. PATIENCE MY PREDATORS.

Mouthfeelings:

Approachable Version: This is a pretty standard affair with the exception of a tingly heat on the backend from the peppers that gives the beer a sort of deadening sensation to the gumline and bottom lip, but nothing too insane across the board. This beer seriously reminds me of a Darkness variant, like if they gave it a spoiler or packed in some breadsticks to jazz it up. Ultimately, this is nothing too earth shattering and I would not trade for this again, not as long as Parabola is sitting on a shelf for way less urethra stretching.

Juicy J version: The mouthfeel has none of that peppery complexity and just keeps it hard in the paint with cinnabon stickiness, girl from the mall kiosk be peeping on your palate and your khaki stained teeth, wanting to flatiron your hair. There is no alcoholic heat on this, but there’s also no bourbon either. Maybe they adhere to the Foothill Brewing school of barrel aging where 16 weeks is PLENTY of time for that beer to get those complex nuances. At any rate, it made the cinnamon more pronounced. Some assholes will probably come in here like “THAT WAS THE VANILLA AND OAK INTEGRATION THAT MADE THE CINNAMON POSSIBLE-” or some shit, don’t care, it tastes like a bear claw. Fucking donut beer, Rogue eat your buttholes out.

Overall/Drinkability:

EBT Version: This is certainly more drinkable than the cinnamon monster, but at what cost? SimCity is a more “playable” game than Assassin’s Creed 3, but spending 8 hours of my life doing menial shit isn’t exactly a mark of greatness. Sure I could drink more of the regular version, but the BA version is interesting for the limited time I would want to have it. Crazy Parking Lot Sex versus Latter Day Saint Stability. Which do you want out of your bell pepper beer?

Gucci Mane Stacks: This version is heavier, stickier, has this inertia of spices and Big Red gum, and is overall not as approachable but if I had to take a pour of either, I would go for the BA version simply because I would be able to remember it more, point it out in a lineup, tell the jury where on the doll that it touched me. That sorta shit.

WINRAR: Barrel Aged Version is the overall winner.

You look at these bottles and think you are on some epic Golem shit, then you realize it was just steam the midwest blew into your lower colon

You know who the overall losers are? The people giving up shit like Norma, Churchills Finest Hour, and Nooner for bottles of BA Abraxas. If you have had Mexican Cake or Huna, you seriously don’t need to chase this one down, and def. dont give up any Loonz for it. It is my suspicion that the people who OMG FUCKING LOVED THIS BEEER!!1!! are the ones who had a 2oz pour while standing in line, checking into Untappd, or some other shit. If you sit down and drink a solid 10+oz of this beer, you will not want more. I LIVED THROUGH THIS.

Image

CANT WAIT FOR CHURCHILLS FINEST HOUR

Sounds legit to me.

Peg’s Cantina RareR D.O.S., The Extra R Stands for “Rape”

January 7, 2013 | dontdrinkbeer

Before my sweaty virgin contingency of readers get all upset, I know rape jokes are not funny, I know the R stands for “rum”, but go ahead and try to land this in the trade forums: forced intercourse. 300ish growlers (500ml small penis swingtops) and 3 per person. At least it was better than the previous run of 25 whopping growlers, but hey, it is a top 100 beer so tickers gotta tick, flipping bricks, crushing up raw. If you are some uninitiated dry vagina who stumbled into this site and somehow read the Rare DOS review then get on your pimping and come back when you are good and ready.

Ironically, the regular rad Rare Dos was more RarerereR

A: I guess leaving the home state of Florida was a lackluster affair for this lil growler because it shows up with little fanfare and lazily spills an Exxon black out of the bottle, a nice Huna sheen to it, with a lil bit of cafe au lait pencil lead thin foam on top. It isn’t dirty, but it isn’t exactly clean either, kinda like the Vegas Strip at 4am.

Slaying top 100 walez, not learning foreign languages, not meeting interesting people. Living that beer dream.

S: This doesnt present that odd Rum aspect that other treatments had me accustomed to. This almost comes across as an entirely bourbon affair, you get mallow foam, coconut, a light caramel aspect on that Calvados tip, and a bit of that Sugar in the Raw that you never fucking use at coffee shops. There is a light chocolate and cocoa but those are cast as Inmate #3, supporting in the background, adding authenticity.

T: This has that same phenomenal balance of booze, chocolate, hershey’s syrup, slight roast but more sweetness from the rum notes. Again, if you are accustomed to the Rum Huna land, you will be confused as fuck when you enter this realm because it seriously is more like an amped up Czar Jack than some rummy endeavor. In classic top 100 form, I can’t really think of a direct analog to this because it really stands on its own with the residual sugars and novel pirate swagger (Carribean not Ethiopean.)

Pop that tiny growler, put on John Carpenter’s The Thing, and cool the fuck out.

M: This is stickier than something like say, Parabola, but doesn’t toe that Huna/Abyss line where you have to move that sticky black palm from your inner thigh, ruining the second half of Pearl Harbor for you. There is sheeting but then the residual sugars are kept in line by the Hueguenot force of clear alcohol, which honestly makes me wonder if this was more in the 13% realm. I ain’t to kinda WINE ASSHOLE, so who am I to say. Cabernets and shit.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, if you happen to be some kinda of shipping magnate who can scoop up limited growler releases on the reg, lighting your cigars with Action Comics #1. If that is you, sure go ahead and drink away. For the rest of us, coal faced masses, pushing our gaunt faces to the window of Peg’s Cantina, hungering for that panegyric that will lighten our ticking hearts, we probably wont have this that often. Usually at this point, some bitter needledick chimes in about how good beer isn’t rare and how they are super stoked on their offshelf offerings, that’s fine, go drink your Storm King or whateverthefuck, let the real men discuss beer.

The average beer nerd will probably never try this in real life, but hey, beer nerds can always dream.

Narrative: They told me I could never do it, what with my having type II diabetes and bustling waistline, they just readily assume that I wouldn’t be a decent chimney sweep? That’s where they underestimated old Michael Jarvis, they didn’t know that I was born with superperceptive inner ear membranes that provide me with expcetional poise and balance. I can caress the roofline and tiles with fleeting agility as I pieroette and gracefully balance upon the brickwork of chimneys. Let’s see those dullards at the public house do that. I would love to see the fittest of their men compete against my 280 lbs frame as I amble the boards with Geckoesque grip and control. It is not about being the strongest, or the most memorable chiney sweep, it is about getting the job done. Post-victorian England isn’t going to unsoot itself and my poise and grace will win chimneys over one by one, if not for a lingering memory, for the sheer efficacy of my work and style. I dont need them to call the name of Michael Jarvis from the rooftops, the balance of my work is clamour enough upon the straining ceiling tiles.

dontdrinkbeer

Drinking beer, so you don't have to.

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