Tag Archives: wine beer

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Jester King DUAL WINO Shootout: Both them Grapes About to Get they First Crush, JUICY -BAL MACERATION.

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Well with Jester King’s completely odd “profit-based” decision to sell the majority of their product at the brewery itself, the demand for those Texan farmhouse oil salesmen has increased markedly. How can I appreciate these beers if they aren’t just sitting in Whole Foods anymore? JEEZ.

Their fruited wild ales, not unlike my milkshake, serve to bring all the mouth breathing boys to the yard. It is such sweet irony that their equally compelling 750ml offerings are often overlooked by consumers not worthy of their embraces. In between the hyped and marginalized lies the Jester King middle class: the grapey wino offerings. A typical sweaty Austin dipshit with bbq sauce slathered in his goatee and Underarmor t shirt eschews wines. In their eyes, wine is a free beverage at weddings or a natural fuel for petulant divorcees. Wine-structured beers always create this tenor of wariness.

For this reason Cerveza de Tempranillo was criminally passed over and only now are these husky Lands End wearing outdoor enthusiasts discovering the majesty of the grape.

I identify my fruits by their corresponding otter pop color. That's the only way I know.

I identify my fruits by their corresponding otter pop color. That’s the only way I know.

Today we have two top tier winey grappa syrahesquey tannic adventures. I might even get to use the word deflocculated while running the grid. STR8 SOMMED BRUH.

Biere De Syrah, Jester King

7.2% abv, a saison cum de wild ale, essentially

“A barrel-aged sour beer refermented with Syrah grapes. Bière de Syrah consists of a blend of beer fermented in oak barrels for nine to twelve months with our mixed culture of brewers yeast and native yeast and bacteria harvested from the air and wildflowers around our brewery. The blend was then refermented with Syrah grapes for about two weeks, transferred off of the fruit, then aged for an additional nine months in oak barrels. After packaging, the beer naturally conditioned for an additional two months prior to release. Altogether, Bière de Syrah is roughly two years old. “

Biere de syrah comes right out of the gates with a radiant juicy magenta hue to it like a winter sunset. The pink foam whips like a broken cotton candy machine and the carb sits proudly like housing insulation, except less cancer. For some reason, this particular shade makes grown men ovulate like they are picking out nursery color schemes. They can see tastes, I guess.

oh shit so deflocculated

oh shit so deflocculated

The nose has a distinctly vinous character but travels all over the realm of skins and farmers markets. Beyond the syrah you get a dash of pinot noir, dryness of currant, this acidity tartness of ripe plum and even a nectarine closer from the acidity. It is far better than expected and uses an unlikely platform to deliver a first crush from its pulpit.

The acidity on the nose gave me pause but thankfully the mineral character at the outset offset the sheer ph of the entire experience. In the way that the composite profile of an ipa can offset a sky high ibu, the oak and lingering dryness of the grape tannins underlines a well rounded entirely crushable experience. I enjoyed this more than many of the “more touted” fruited JK wilds if only due to the way it grips the oak bannister at the fruit debutante ball with a violet gown draping the floor with elegance.  Shit is mad classy, open this at Olive Garden and watch the dental hygienists swoon.

Binder drawing tier 10/10

Binder drawing tier 10/10

Absolutely lock this one down as soon as possible

Jester King Biere de Blanc Du Bois

6.7% abv, wild ale, no saisons on this one, no way.

“Bière De Blanc du Bois was brewed with Hill Country well water, barley, wheat, and hops. It was fermented with our unique mixed culture of microorganisms, which includes farmhouse yeasts, naturally occurring wild yeasts harvested from our air and land in the Texas Hill Country, and native souring bacteria. After extended fermentation and maturation in oak barrels, it was refermented with Texas-grown Blanc du Bois grapes. Bière De Blanc du Bois is 6.7% alcohol by volume, 3.2 pH, and has a finishing gravity of 1.004 (1.0 degree Plato). It is unfiltered, unpasteurized, and 100% naturally conditioned. The artwork for Bière De Blanc du Bois was created by our in-house artist Josh Cockrell.”

putting that Jack LaLanne juicer to work

putting that Jack LaLanne juicer to work

The biere du blanc du bois aka that bdbdbdbdbdbbdbdb leaves more to be desired in its simplistic, highly acidic aplomb. It is admittedly beautiful and radiant in the glass with wispy frothy carb that not only defeats the tartness below but continually sheets and shines like a glowstick at Hard or EDC, the beats perpetually drop.

This exhibits very little wine character and even the grape aspects are shy and hardly peek out from the oak curtains. Cyber sex protip: “oak curtains” is the least sexy vaginal euphemism possible. The nose is a blast of tangerine, lemon, muddled grapefruit, honeydew and a touch of Riesling sweetness.  It is relentlessly bright but also a touch offputting in the unbalanced Noel Coward dryness of the performance. Go ahead and Google “NOEL COWARD” I will wait.  People complain about the lack of depth in DDB references and think this shit is all Worldstar and Squaresoft, you ungrateful fucks, about to David Foster Wallace these tickin ass ratchets.

Let me loosen up them buttons baby, show me what them grapes can do to me

Let me loosen up them buttons baby, show me what them grapes can do to me

For a truly great comedic or wild ale performance there must be grounding upon which to predicate the extreme aspects, otherwise the whole thing goes to Crazy Town faster than you can say “butterfly.” That is where the bdbdbdbd suffers most. In seeking to provide a radiant light diaphanous performance of Chardonnay refreshment, the acidity and bone dry oak dominate. Instead of being a magnificent grapey adventure, we are left with something closer to beatification albeit lacking the yeasty complexity.  If you Monistat the Beatification, all you are left with is acidic discharge: NO ONE WANTS THAT.

It is an instance where Jester King lamentably must live up to their own catalog and arent given any easy passes as a result. If someone like Half Acre made this without any fanfare, it would be the greatest sour the midwest had seen this side of VSB; but their own pedigree infects expectations like a sour mash. So in sum, it is a tasty serviceable sour that would be the pinnacle of anyone else’s catalog, but them Extract boys with their fancy barrel fermenting and puncheons and actual farmhouse have painted expectations into a corner and now must lie in the same doghouse that them Hill boys suffer through: every release must be a revelation. If cd12 and Ambree aren’t an outright grand slam, pepperoni nips get chafed.  If your consumers predicate their self value on bottles of fermented grain, be sure that they base their feelings of intellectual superiority on pointing out shortcomings,  Working at Cici’s Pizza doesn’t exactly give them the earthly Muse to validate their pursuits.

WELP NOW I KNOW WHAT MY FIRST JAILHOUSE TATTOO IS GONNA LOOK LIKE

WELP NOW I KNOW WHAT MY FIRST JAILHOUSE TATTOO IS GONNA LOOK LIKE

Seek out biere de syrah, but obligingly accept a pour of bdbdbdbdb, then continue to act like an expert in all things monoculture despite the fact that you got a B- in high school biology because the Krebs citric acid cycle was just too hard and what the fuck is ATP anyway, amirite. Strap on those husky cargo shorts and call Ddb a sellout while driving your stepdad to the latest adjunct stout release. You’re a master of the internet and your palate is infallible.

Business as usual.

UR FUKN WELCOME, DDB: JUMPING SHARKS SINCE 2010

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@santeadairius Always in Death, 25th fret shredding, black farmhouse death stainless fermentation

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Well as 2014 creaked to a close, the final bottle from the SARA Cellar program was the caress of death. This was the swan song and a single bottle was issued to 2014 members before all these 2015 SARA cellar gentrifiers come in pushing up property values, ruining the rich cultural heritage of the invite only society, driving out the original residents. Let’s see how this tart DARK farmhouse performs, whether you can slam this at a Bauhaus concert or if you should save it for the next Joy Division show.

Time to play that cliche game LIST SOMETHING IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE BEER PHOTO. always funny ervy tiem.

Time to play that cliche game LIST SOMETHING IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE BEER PHOTO. always funny ervy tiem.

Capitulation, Santa Cruz, CA
Black Barrel aged Saison, 5.6% abv

That commercial rubdown:
Everything ends. This simple fact reminds us to make the most of the things, to breath deeply, to chase inspiration, to live and love with abandon. With this in mind, we offer you the final installment of SARA’s Cellar 2014. Always in Death. A tart, barrel-aged, dark farmhouse ale, this single barrel selection stood out from the rest, and is now yours to memorialize in solitude or with friends. Everything ends, always, in death.

Put on The Spill Canvas, pour a glass of Grenache and sink into deep contemplation with your Sartre tome, WE ARE DISCUSSING DEATH.

A: Well true to form, this is a dark dark farmhouse that leaves you looking circumspectly at the jet black inky depths, that foam challenging you to a slap boxing fight in the old barn. I usually don’t enjoy this style or really any sours predicated entiretly on a porter base, but this is admittedly a pretty beer due to the bone dry lack of sheeting or residual sugars. This is like Natalie Portman in Black Swan, you come for the white swan, you stay to see her get stabbed.

Pictured above: target dark saison demographic. Look for them at the next bottleshare.

Pictured above: target dark saison demographic. Look for them at the next bottleshare.

S: The nose on this is phenomenal and reminds me of a baller version of Tart of Darkness, with a turbo charger and cat back exhaust. You get merlot and currant, tart cherry, craisins, oak and light cocoa. The closer is a sort of red wine Dr. Pepper aspect that again, feels agile and doesn’t leave its dark husks and tannins laying all around the living room its like HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU ABOUT THIS.

T: The taste sheds the Tart of Darkness robe and the ebony form glistens beautifully across the palate. You get the malbec and blackberry, tartness, a faint cheesiness, and a lingering intensely dry closer. I can confidently add this to a list of two other dark farmhouses REALLY worthy of your attention, next to Civil Disobedience 4 and Guillermo Prunus. Yes CD8, Shadows of their Eyes, and Edith are intentionally left off of that list. Dark saisons usually dont do it for me, but this exhibits the red grape and hay profile in such an elegant way, its worth your attention even though you might not give a shit about the style.

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME, i like my farmhouses DARK and DEEP, i have substance and depth, I OWN A COPY OF HARLAN ELLISON SHORT STORIES

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME, i like my farmhouses DARK and DEEP, i have substance and depth, I OWN A COPY OF HARLAN ELLISON SHORT STORIES

M: This is dry and presents a bouquet of tart floral goodness, its this odd melange of dry bakers chocolate a flanders red and a straight up saison. At warmer temps it feels a bit acetic but never enters a realm that someone would really complain about, I am just that prick who watches Whiplash and complains that the syncopation isnt timed with the frames of the drums. Nitpicking garbage because shit, otherwise why even read this.

D: This is this and you can easily crush the entire 750 without getting dry rot. It never becomes cloying or warrants splitting a million ways. Thankfully this doesn’t have any stonefruit in it, so dipshits on the trade boards will continue punching one another in the dick over the same tired lacto blonde ales and leave this well alone.

This saison tastes like when the wolf cries to the black corn moon. You probably wont get it if you havent painted with the colors of the black wind.

This saison tastes like when the wolf cries to the black corn moon. You probably wont get it if you havent painted with the colors of the black wind.

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Russian River Erudition Saison, OH YOU DIDN’T KNOW RUSSIAN RIVER FUCKS WIT FARMHOUSES?

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SAISON MARATHON REVIEWS DRAFT ONLY SAISONS TOO.

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
California
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.

YO SAISON CHOSE ME

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.

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

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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.