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New Glarus Raspberry Tart, Get your Epipens, This is Going to Be a Sweet One

People love this beer. Girls have 100% enjoyed this beer, every single time. Let’s clarify, not in a sexist generalization treating women as a homogenous group, I mean every girl that I have ever poured this for has really enjoyed it. I do not like this beer. When I am drinking beer, it is to forget about the puppy that urinates on everything in my life. When I am eating fruit, it is due to the guilt of drinking too much. Put simply, I don’t need these two worlds to collide in equal parity. New Glarus is the shit, but this beer is anything but. Anyway, step on these berries, let’s get it:

I lost my old pic of this beer, I took it with a Blackberry anyway, so you know that shit would have been in monochrome or something.

New Glarus Raspberry Tart 4.0% fruit beer

A: There is a deep ruby he that almost appears like a muted amber, huge deep red foamy carbonation that leaves very little lacing. There is miminal sheeting and this seriously just looks like a glass of juice or something you give to your toddler in a sippy cup. Hell, in Wisconsin, anything is possible. This beer is on some top 100 lists so apparently someone loves this beer. Some people liked the ending of Vanilla Sky too, fucked if I know.

I don’t know what needs more refinement, my palate or the gallons of fruit sugars in this beer. It’s perfect for the Wisconsin clubs, bottles in the basket pills in the plastic.

S: The bouquet smells overwhelmingly like raspberries, fruit preserves, sweet flowers, and a slight wine/cabernet finish. This is just already far too sweet, I can go buy a bag of Skittles, this just takes things to excessive levels.

T: The sweetness from the raspberries is present and accounted for, almost overwhelmingly. The sweetness has a cider character to it and subsides into an intense dryness with an incredible crisp finish like biting into a granny smith apple, only, raspberry.

I feel like I am too old for this beer or maybe it is reserved for people who read Marie Claire. The correlation is astounding.

M: The mouthfeel has zero coating, zero stickiness, and washes away crisp and clean. There isn’t a whole lot to comment on here since this beer barely toes inside the beer framework. I know there is a cadre of dedicated NG kids who love this beer, I am an adult, I don’t need to drink a cup of Torani syrup to enjoy a beer. Grow up, get high octane, or go the lambic route. This beer just wasn’t my jam, but I will preserve the record for others to PRODUCE.

D: If not for the sugary-juice overload, this would be a incredibly drinkable beer. It presents great utility to those “black sheep” or the XX chromosomal order who “don’t like beer” or “beer makes them feel bloated.” This is an undercover beer that emotes like a crisp cider and presents the ambrosial delight of a champagne. Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t buy this again or seek it out, but that’s largely due to the style. If I was on a boat with some dour faced sad girls, I would provide it like a benevolent Spuds Mckenzie.

This beer ganks your sweet zones with a robble robbel swag.

Narrative: ::TOOOOOT!!!:: the olde timey steam whistled hissed signaling the end of another shift. The stern overseer, Rose Juiceworthington, kept a watchful eye over the employees of the Smuckers’ canning line and made sure that her will was enacted to the T. “Williams! My office, NOW!” the loudspeaker boomed. Williams, soaked in mashed raspberries had a sweet winsome disposition, but a sordid past. “I have seen you down there, slowing on the mashing. . .what’s so funny?” Williams raised raised her glanced slowly, then swiftly smashed a can of raspberry preserves over Ms. Juiceworthington’s head, sending her cascading backwards into a molten pit of bubbling preserves. The gasps for breath made sweet gurgles and Williams nodded a sticky sweet approving nod, not to be confronted again.

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Pelican Brewery Mother of All Storms, Would You Kiss Your Mother With a Barleywine Mouth Like That?

Here’s a beer that I have had, oh, let’s call it 6 times and the picture you see below is the most coherent image that I have of this beast. That should tell you something right away. First and foremost, I love this beer, I love this style and it seriously goes head to head with Kuhnhenn, Arctic Devil and…ugh…KING HERNY GRUMBLEGRUMBLE. Anyway, this amazing beer is a treat, so let’s peep it out on today’s review to SEE HOW WIDE THE WINGSPAN IS ON THIS..er..MARK WAHLBERG HAS A STORM COMING. Just read it.

Actually it doesn’t look as bad as I remember, maybe it was my raging headache after merking this beast. Big pours, we do them.

Mother of All Storms, Barleywine, 13.5 abv.
Oregon all up in the mix, Pelican Brewery

A: There is an almost bourbon note to it. A mild agitation evidences a some small bubbles but it is clear that this beer is above you, much in the way that Hemingway never seemed to mind the banalities of a normal life. You rock it back and forth and all you see is a wafty character that coats with a scary liquid refusal.

At first I was hesitant, but I ultimately found the ravaging brashness to be a warmth.

S: There are deep bourbon notes that resound like falling down a mineshaft and hit every peat note on the way down. I don’t want to overstate the wood and bourbon but, wow, this is beer but it feels like a proper gentleman’s drink. This was made in Oregon but its spirit takes its summer vacations in the hateful south. It enjoys conifers in the summer and spraying down protesting hops with fire hoses in the winter. Too far? Ok, let’s stop turning barley wines into social commentary. This has a great heat on it and I don’t even want to age it because I like it for it’s bumbly angry presence. It rounds out this delicious dinner party with a fuck up that you can point out that is incredibly enjoyable.

T: There is a huge panoply of raisins, figs, mild dates and nice waftiness just like envelops like sweet caramel candy. I enjoy this immensely and the retraction from the huge fruits on the finish makes it all the more enjoyable, wait for it-

The sip to shiteating grin ratio with this beer nears 1:1, also, Ginger child murders local dog, film at 11.

M: AS A RESULT THIS IS THE BEST BARLEYWINE THAT I HAVE EVER HAD. I know I know, this dethroned Abacus, no big deal, you hate Barleywines. Wait a second though, I like the following LESS: Hellshire, Old Dipsea 2009, Bigfoot, etc. This is hands down the most balanced and amazing barley wine I have ever had. I just want to sip on this and watch a Ryan Reynol- CLINT EASTWOOD MOVIE.

D: This is not exceptionally drinkable and, you know what? GOOD. This isn’t here for your consumption, this is like a Terrence Malick movie, it is deliberate, slow, deep and amazing. If you drink this alone you are a jerk. Plain and simple. This has such a great resounding spirit to it that begs to be split on a balcony and horrible philosophy discussions will ensure. It is just wafty, boozy, complex and amazing. The thin mouth almost makes me feel like “give me a cigar.” But then I realized that I don’t live in the gilded age, so put out the robusto Grover Cleveland.

Forget shaken baby syndrome, give your kids this beer, watch how amazing they turn out.

Narrative: All of the brackish land lovers said that this take was too ambitious. Sure, there was a school of marlin right off the coast heading for warmer currents, but, for gods sake, did you look at the meterology reports? They didn’t want to end up like the crew of the S.S. Stone Tea, rest in peace, who lost every member in this modern age refusing to deliver tea by protocol. No; no. There was a much more insidious secret that no crew member beyond the first mate could be made aware of. This marlin galleon was commanded by none other than a pelican. To be fair, he was a completely able captain with a curse placed upon him by a Portland witch who converted his form to the omnipresent visage of fertility, well knowing that he was impotent. That, my friends, is a story for another day. Sure there was a cool pressure from one direction and another front with conflicting warm pressures and, wait, who is manning the sextant? Oh that’s right, a pelican. Their cargo of 1200 barrels of bourbon and figs might never make it to port but one thing was certain, with this capta- BGLUB GLUB:::GURBLE::COPYRIGHTGURBLE