Flossmoor Station Wooden Hell, Getting that whaley wood, the best kind of alerection

Boy, you make a joke that you paid $700.00 for a bottle of beer and people lose their shit. Thankfully, I didn’t actually drop 7 bills to get some wood like some MBC ballers, but it did involve a trade that would turn your resctum inside out like a skinned snake. At any rate, cracking those top 10 speedwalez takes some doing, as anyone with shitty priorities will attest. In full midwest form, I only had ~4 ounces of this, so if my review sucks shit, point me to someone who has recently skulled a bomber solo, and I will ask that person why he has no friends.

Anyway, let’s make some more erection jokes predicated on wood puns in today’s review

I kicked off the blind BA Barleeywine tasting with this and no fewer than 5 dipshits pointed out that I did not taste this blind. Thank you for that.

I kicked off the blind BA Barleeywine tasting with this and no fewer than 5 dipshits pointed out that I did not taste this blind.
Thank you for that.

Flossmoor Station Restaurant & Brewery
Illinois, United States
Style | ABV
English Barleywine | 9.50% ABV

A: Despite its age, this doesnt pour a muddy flacid lakewater, but it isn’t the picture of jubilant, pube-free youth either. The carb is gentle and wisps in light rings without much lacing to speak of. In goldilocks parlance, things are “just right.” It isn’t exactly radiant but there is a certain posture to it like sits somewhere between a quad and that deep almond brown with medium clarity that is inviting, but relatively thin looking for the style. If you have fuxxed with CW BBBW you’ll know that look tho.

Just because something is old doesn't mean it can't be relevant and refined. inb4 Ftowne jokes.

Just because something is old doesn’t mean it can’t be relevant and refined.
inb4 Ftowne jokes.

S: This is easily my favorite part of this beer, the toffee, almond, creme brulee top, toasted caramel and vanilla just dance seamlessly. I was expecting an oxy sidecar, but it never came. Everyone high fives one another and press their hips together comparing cocks talking about cardboard and “THE GOOD OLD DAYS WHEN I TRIED IT ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS” but dick measuring aside, I don’t get that thrift store musk that everyone was jizzing their skinny jeans over. Trust me, later I had 2000 BA Leviathan, i know them oxies. The waft was awesome, no old comic books up in the mix.

T: The taste follows the nose pretty seamlessly albeit in a much more gentle fashion. Those kids in the mid to late 2000s must have had more nuanced palates, an appreciation for the balance and front porch lounging with boozy libations. I got toasted coconut, sugar daddies, a light touch of paper/oxy, and some mallowfoam. Again this is all within the scope of things being resonant and lightly executed. If you walk into this with a raging boner for a Mother of All Storms experience, you will probably clip your tip on the wooden doorway. Speaking of wood, this isn’t the barrel bomb or oaky monster the label would imply, and I think it is better as a result. Perhaps time mellowed it, but it was just and easy drinker that disappeared frustratingly fast.

"I ticked won of the raerest barelywines evar, y u jealus of my sick lifestyle LOL haters amirite?"

“I ticked won of the raerest barelywines evar, y u jealus of my sick lifestyle LOL haters amirite?”

M: This is on the thinner side of the BABW spectrum but the dovetailing of the gentle flavors makes it seem reasonable. By way of contrast, GI BCBBW has a shitload of raisin, chocolate, fig packed into a similarly thin body so it feels off balanced as a result. I really enjoyed the slick clean finish and sustain of the caramel notes rings like your child when you lock him in the poolhouse for running on the deck. Those sweet dulcet notes of enduring heat.

D: this is exceptionally drinkable and perhaps is a touch past its prime, depending on cellaring conditions. This is the same shithead section where I recommend you seek it out and you tell me to bang my asshole with a curling iron. The give and take of malty tides rolling in, taking hundreds of dollars in its wake. So the operative question is “should I put together a FT: with v007, Fou Foune, Pulling Nails, DDG, and 2 De Garde Berliners + $$$$ to land this bottle?” That is up to how well your life is going I guess, I eat dinty moore in front of a CRT TV and sip whales because I have shitty priorities. You want to live like me? You want to be an internet badass with stretch marks and an inferiority complex?

Fine, then trade for Wooden Hell. Like I give a fuck.

This is one of those last level master ticks you seek out because you are too bitchmade to land M.

This is one of those last level master ticks you seek out because you are too bitchmade to land M.

Narrative: William Cooper was last in a proud lineage of barrel craftsmen who, until recently, felt the sting of a world embracing stainless containers. That is, until the revolution of the dipshit homebrewer. Every day, while shaving staves down of pure oak, he would be disturbed with importuning phone calls requesting “RARE BARRELS FOR MY IMPERIAL BROWN AGED ON DATES FIRST USE PLEASE.” William would masterfully be shaping a hoop with care and need to set his work by the wayside for shortsighted assholes. In his remote Illinois workshop, Subarus and KIAs would pull up regularly with husky patrons coming to question him about inane aspects of his once-proud craft. “Well what I am really looking at is bung retention, I made an extract Belgian blonde and I want to add Yuzu to it and I need something with a tannic presence, I read that online” they would chime in while inspecting markings. The face palming would not be insubstantial when these mealtymouthed interlopers would examine stave rivets and begin an unsolicited diatribe about Pappy Van Winkle lots. “Please sir, I just, I don’t even know what you are talking about, this is a private workshop,” William would plead, “yeah I have been to plenty of private workshops in Vermont to inspect their processes, nothing but the best for my homebrew you know? Some people really lack class.” The barrel business was booming once again, to the dismay of every cooper in the entire world.


Peg’s Nooner BATCH 2: RareR DOS with Vanilla Beans, NOT SOME JANKY BLENDED BERLINER

So it has been what, four months since these hateful little growlers were filled and people are still slanging them like yellowtop vials up on the boards. Some people swear by these 16oz swingtops and, I guess for a beer like this, it really doesn’t matter: people will seek them out irregardlessly. So if I recall correctly, something like 120 of these were filled, 1 per person, but of course in the wild west Florida trading scene, people get scooping up multiples like a Craigslist Casual Encounter. Enough pageantry, let’s see if you wanna flick your vanilla bean after today’s review.

I have the fattest nooner right now

I have the fattest nooner right now

Peg’s Cantina & Brewpub
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This is somehow more lackluster and just looks dingier than the RareR variant and far less excited than the Regular ass Rare DOS. It has some minimal lacing, a tiny head, some gentle sheeting, but nothing too apeshit. There is a certain sloppiness to it that screams artisinal that a 50 barrel system just couldn’t pull off. Not sure if thats just QC lipstick on the base of a maltcock, but shit is sloppy in a fun way.

hot sticky synthetic vanilla on stout action

hot sticky synthetic vanilla on stout action

S: This, like the RareR is also all over the place and not exactly what you would expect. If you are thinking “Alright, Vanilla Dark Lord right?” fucking wrong. You remember how the RareR DOS had none of that super traditional rum aspect to the nose, well this iteration of vanilla is kinda more like Hostess saccharine sweet frosting. There’s obviously the whole entourage of coconut, vanilla, caramel coated mallowfoam, but they are really muted relative to this big powerful “vanilla” aspect that comes across more like fondant, or some kind of confectioner’s delight. I like this beer less than both of the previous iterations, I feel like they set the boost too high and the turbos are just spooling up and whipping cake batter.

T: This presents that same wonderful brownie batter, a sort of 4 Roses bourbon werther’s original sweetness to the treatment, but again the real star is this Coldstone Creamery asshole just dominating the flavor profile with all this vanilla goodness. This wouldn’t be offputting if the vanilla was amazing, or at least balanced. This just takes this NY Yankees “more is better” approach and ends up alienating people and getting hated on. Let me clarify, this is still an amazing beer, don’t think I am saying this is some Clown Shoes level shit. I am merely stating that what should be a modifier largely detracts from the whole experience. Some guys want a girl who can squirt, but if she starts gushing vanilla extract all over, you would probably be like “ok, that’s it, no more for me, I am gonna need that $300 back.”

Some people fall in love with this beer and go through crazy lengths to be with it

Some people fall in love with this beer and go through crazy lengths to be with it

M: This is the same as the other ones, toeing that amazing line between thin ass offerings from Eclipse/Foothill/Central Waters, but straying away from the Hunas and Menacing ass Dark Lords of the world. Think along the lines of Parabola or a beefier Czar Jack. No I am not going to condescend and bring in the fucking casuals with some Ten Fidy or Old Rasputin references. This is for tickers flexing that iron, go to your offshelf pilates class this website isn’t for you.

D: Overall this is exceedingly drinkable, if you can get past the beetus nose and vanilla hammering away at your jawline. Like oh so many rare ass offerings, it’s really tough to recommend this 20% improvement if you are giving up BA Kopi or Birth of Tragedy type of stuff to land it. If it is a reasonable trade, absolutely seek this out. Otherwise wait until Doug has a family member pass away and he opens up his massive 7 barrel system*.

I am not saying they should have cancelled this batch, but maybe it was a bit rushed.

I am not saying they should have cancelled this batch, but maybe it was a bit rushed.

Narrative: The University of Connecticut had never seen a season like this, and a turnout of over 30% of the seats sold at a women’s basketball game was staggering to say the least. “You girls are really doing something here, I mean forget Title IX, you girls are almost running only 49% in the red this season…A UNIVERSITY RECORD!” their Coach Ms. Hammerstein boomed in the opulent, nearly unused locker room. The mannish young women nodded plaintively and Coach Hammerstein caught power forward Takesha Williams blush. “You got something to say Takesha?” the coach importuned aggressively. “Nah coach it’s just, I wasn’t supposted to say nothin’ it’s just…” the rest of the team shook their heads as Takesha winsomely revealed the huge secret of their success. “Ain’t nobody tryna watch no women’s basketball, I mean, sitting through all that to see 41 points scored, it’s painful,” the coach sat on a bench and tapped her foot nervously. “Coach, we been Beaning, beaning all semester, since preseason even-” Takesha, a hulking amazon of an athlete pulled out a small vial of raw sticky wet vanilla beans. Coach Hammerstein dropped her gaze to the hexagonal tiles. “You…you told me it was air freshener, they are gonna cancel our grant. Dozens of the UCONN fans will be DEVASTATED!” Coach Hammerstein boomed as each young woman revealed their sticky sacks of beans. It was unnatural, and a conceitless way to ensure victory, but women’s basketball was hardly watchable without them all straight poppin their beans.

* I do not wish harm on any of the Peg’s or Cycle Brewing Staff and I am sure the Will and Intestate laws of Florida would treat his heirs amiably.