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

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.



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.



The Ultimate Farmhouse Voltron @Hillfarmstead Civil Disobedience 11, The Saison Megazord

Alright, keeping things on track with arguably the whaliest beer that HF has ever made outside of Ann, is this staggering amalgamate of the best the saison world has to offer.  At ~300 bottles, 1 per person, this caused a massive rift in the trading community and the butthurt was palpable, salty alligator tears rolling down Dorito dusted beards. So what is the deal with this FINAL BOSS GOD TIER FARMHOUSE LOOT? This is like post-game optional quest level shit here:

“Composed of Anna aged in barrels that previously held Mimosa, E., and Juicy, blended with Anna that was aged in barrels that previously held Civil Disobedience 3 and 5. Delicate, elegant, complex, and effervescent.”

Does it seriously get any better than that? Those are like nocturnal emissions mixed with microflora. Let’s get down to this rustic ratchet in today’s review.

Got musky emo tears, beer looking like a bowl of oranges

Got musky emo tears, beer looking like a bowl of oranges

Hill Farmstead, Vermont (you know this already)

Blended BA saison, abv? Let’s call it 7.69%

This beer also gushed like an obese kid who lost a full dress size at fat camp. It spilled all over my tiny hovel making my shoddy granite work redolent of Vermontean esters.  The carb notwithstanding, this pours intensely orange and the whole pour feels like a PS1 cut scene where for a moment things are far less shitty, and you know it simply wont last.  It has fantastic cling and sheets rings the entire way down as though it had a modicum of spelt boosting those unfermentable solids.  Svelte, radiant, oddly beautiful like Emma Stone in BIrdman.

Look at me.  Look at me. I am the saison captain now.  I am the farmhouse captain.

Look at me. Look at me. I am the saison captain now. I am the farmhouse captain.

The nose continues the pageantry in a way that is unparalleled by even Shaun Hill standards.  In the struggle for their own dominance over their own product this grip the tail of Ann and the throat of Art and co-dominance is established like some acidic alleles contributing this master race phenotype.  I hope you didn’t fail high school biology, otherwise Ctrl+T that shit. There is intense orange, grand marnier meets cut construction paper, wet Jansport backpacks, bikes in the rain covered in Donald Duck orange juice, crushes leaves, bittering conifer aspects on the closer and this sweetly acidic finish like a Jamba Juice peach dream.  It is frustratingly enticing to a fault.

Hit that bottle spread eagle, label cocked open like that Jordan logo

Hit that bottle spread eagle, label cocked open like that Jordan logo

The taste is creamy orange julius from the mall with brett C funk contributing an aged cheddar cheesiness to the gumline, the most refined acidity this side of BA Cellarman, crisp anjou pear dryness on the swallow that lingers with a clementine pithy bitterness.  It is orange and cuties through and through with massive cascading waves of bitterness, acidity and funk like LED lights at a TRAP show contributing to full immersion.  There is a touch of imperfect honey sweetness that is perceptible that has a sweet meets mineral character, but this is literally the only fault I can detect after assiduously prying apart this entire 750ml solo.

Liquefy this photo in its purest platonic form and imbibe it

Liquefy this photo in its purest platonic form and imbibe it

In sum this is the pinnacle of the HF catalog and only Ann and Art can stand as coherent rivals to this crown.  It easily stands in the top 10 best saisons I have ever had in my life and I can’t imagine someone walking the razors edge of funk, musk, acidity, and drinkability.  It takes the best aspects of all prior saisons and unites them in defiance of a composition fallacy that I had ready to toss like critical shurikens.  One guy wanted Fou + Hommage for this bottle 2:1 and, while this will rock the Belgian lambic-curator dipshits to their core, it is hands down worth it,  It exists as a pinnacle of the most nuanced of genres and flat out runs at even clip with the best lambics I have ever had.

Past and present progressive  rusticity

Past and present progressive rusticity

Writing favorable reviews is shitty, but I have to doff my coal dusted Dickensian cap when shit operates on this tier.


@councilbrewing Nicene Saison, an incredible Gewurztraminer BA Saison that drinks like musky vintage Temptation. Delicious.

I know what you are thinking, “Gewurztraminer? Why are you doing this DDB. We aren’t post-menopausal homies with subscriptions to Sunset magazine.” Just stay with me here. You don’t have to be an empty nester who watches Mike and Molly to appreciate this phenomenal beer, just dig in for this farmhouse ride. It’s a bumpy, musky lil pumpkin patch, don’t fall out of the truck.

Them holofoil labels got me dusting off my Charizard

Them holofoil labels got me dusting off my Charizard

Council Brewing Co., San Diego, CA
6% abv Saison


The commercial rub-down:

“650, 750ml bottles of Nicene were released on September 13, 2014. Nicene was brewed with traditional Saison ingredients to provide a rustic, bready malt backbone and paired with the tropical fruit forward wine and French oak notes achieved from the Gewurztraminer wine barrels. Over time, Brettanomyces and Lactobacillus will continue to develop the gentle sourness and earthy flavors. This Sour Saison was manually packaged with tremendous care and bottle conditioned with high carbonation for optimal enjoyment in a tulip glass.”


A: Whenever I pop a cap and then see a cork it’s like SORRY YOUR PRINCESS IS IN ANOTHER CASTLE. Once I got past the defenses, things got overridingly real. This cascades out with a silky fine carb that crackles forth like a broken washing machine and lingers with wispy frothiness not unlike those filipino foam parties you would attend in your youth. The malt profile looks like straight wheat + belgian pils, nothing too apeshit here. You have a mildly turbid creaminess to the appearance that looks like Sunny D, and everyone knows you want the D. Everyone already knows it.

It doesn't need to make sense.  It's a sub 1000 count barrel aged saison.  Ask questions later.

It doesn’t need to make sense. It’s a sub 1000 count barrel aged saison. Ask questions later.

S: This has a phenomenal nose to it and presents a sort of riesling spilled on Berber carpet. There is a musk of leather and saddle but nectarine and a sweet Chardonnay oakiness. I had never tried a GERWERTEZMENDER barrel aged ANYTHING before and I was suspect from the outset. I didn’t know if a saison would be the based candidate just because the overridingly sweet profile from the grapes COULD TAKE SHIT OVER LIKE WHEN DRAKE DROPS A LACKLUSTER 16 BUT THAT’S THE ONLY VERSE ANYONE REMEMBERS. This just soars on the olfactory profile and presents a welcoming peach pie cooling in the barn, straw and faint acidity while you do whip its and lay in the hay bales. Things are ultra cutty.

This is odd, but unquestionably welcoming.  Franch approved.

This is odd, but unquestionably welcoming. Franch approved.

T: Again, the G-spot barrels are phenomenal and present just the right balance of sweetness for the incredibly balanced acidity to make this drink like aged Temptation. If you have opened a batch 4 large format Temptation you will have an excellent idea of what I am talking about. This doesn’t go ultra lactic, it doesn’t put its pedio foot forward, it opts for a massive drinkability and leaves your gumline unmolested. The creaminess and anjou pear leaves a sort of fondue muskiness on the gumline that is difficult to approximate. It just works so well.

M: Again the cheesy creaminess and silky carb just makes this whole thing gentle as a basket of laundry fresh out the hamper; because that musk, homie. It doesn’t wipe out your jaw or recede your bitter zones, or give you rumble guts after a 750ml. If you have had some of the more nuanced american Farmhouse beers: Florence, Bernice, Jester King Biere de Miel; you will know exactly what I mean. It doesn’t need to hit you with a throbbing blue veined shaft of acidity or his that sub 3.0 ph to make its point. The whole experience is intensely pleasant and refreshing with a faintly alkaline hardness to the water profile that is awesome, gypsum on deck throwing up B’s and C’s.

Might as well spend your time drinking rare BA saisons, there are worse ways to defend your virginity

Might as well spend your time drinking rare BA saisons, there are worse ways to defend your virginity

D: This is highly crushable and a 750ml is easy to take down. If you have ever opened anything from Blaugies and then been like “where dafuq did all the ounces go?” you will know the saison sitch. Their base saison was tasty, a touch sweet and presented a pretty standard high ferm temp Dupont strain sort of profile but this takes things to a whole new realm. If this is characteristic of GERWAMSTRAINER barrels, then god damn, breweries need to start sourcing them hard, like Galoob ripping off NES code with Gamie Genie: THIS IS NO DERIVATIVE WORK.


Narrative: It had been so long since the four arbiters of the canonical saison world had met. The yeast harbinger so adaptive, ever changing and immutably difficult to locate would seemingly never find time in his schedule to discuss the earthy matters and gristy concerns of the wheat delegate. Even less likely would be the union of the diplomate of Water, hard and pure, with the porous affiliate from the Barrel kingdom. Dire circomstances required a clarification of the saison creed. So many faiths and splinter sects had denatured the Wallonian teachings from the initial farmhouse apostles and the populace was crying for clarity and canonical guidance. The musky gavel rapped the wood lightly and Water brought the counsel to Order, “ggeetttnnnllleeemennn, weee neeedd too dessshcccieeddeee-” he began and was immediately interrupted by Yeast, “oh for fucks sake, can anyone but Water preside over these proceedings? Listen to him. COME ON.” The gathering had begun with a glacier paced discussion of monoculture additions to secondary fermentations, enough to put even Barrel to rest. The faith in Farmhouse Culture was dying, and people were increasingly converting to a acetic faith. Something needed to be done to restore the Wallonian truths set forth some 325 years prior. Finally, after days of grueling work, and the interjection of sweet servant grapes, the Council of Saison had developed an immutable creed for the masses to adhere to without question:

“We believe in one Saison, the Farmhouse almighty, fermenter of all things visible and insoluble
and in one strain, the Son of yeast, the essence of the Father, wheat of wheat, water of water,
housed in earthly sanctity of oak, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the first Saison.

By whom all saisons were made, in primary and secondary fermentation, Heaven and Earth,
who for us, Saisons were made incarnate and sent to earth for man

Through high fermentation temps, which would kill or denature ordinary Sacchromyeces, yeast suffered and after the 21st day, rose again

From thence all saisons shall come to judge the quick and the dead ales, the impure libations, those weak of spirit and character

and in the holy fermentation Ghost.”

Less than 60 years later brewers would again engage in sectarian violence over the meaning of “fermentation Ghost,” but that is a tale for another tome.


@hillfarmstead Double Barrel Damon, Putting Damons on my Damons Even My Damons Got Damons so you can Damon while you Damon

What do you get when you take regular ass world class DAMON and then pump up the jams with a SECOND FUCKING BARREL. Tickers lose their shit, that’s what.

Alright, so 50 people got these in the collected works and then….no one reviewed it. Alright a few people did, but it was conspicuously absent from review sites until the big release went down 6 weeks ago, resulting in pages upon pages of fanfare, butthurt, conspiracies, and other things attendant with beer releases these days. When the dust settled, we were left with a 189 (?) bottle, $35 release. The DoWant pulsing hard in them lower abs.

I think it is safe to say that this beer was the most sought out and anticipated beer release in the past year from Hill Farmstead, but how does it stack up to the already-stellar Damon? You can’t get more than one rock hard boner, there’s like, no such thing as a double boner. Right? Anyway, let’s get up in the guts and see if all the crestfallen tickers listening to Evanescence have reason to mourn their inability to tick this elusive beast.

Black hat, black shades, double barrel black stouts, oh behave.

Black hat, black shades, double barrel black stouts, oh behave.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
Russian Imperial Stout | ABV ?

A: This sits and languishes out of the bottle like cajoling a second grader to get ready for school. There is a certain tempestuousness to the light crackle of mocha foam that quickly subsides and sits down to eat its cocoa puffs, unconcerned with learning cursive or long division. The lacing is insubstantial likely due to the generous sheeting on the glass that lets you know that this beer did hard time in the barrel SHU, carving wood shivs, plotting revenge. I will say, I miss the coats and coats of wax like on the previous version of Damon, but if you lay this down without trying it, you probably don’t deserve this beer in the first place. The picture above might not make sense since most of the one other time I have seen a picture of this beer it has been a 50ml medical dosage, the legit pour evidences the sheer power and menacing stature that this bete noir imparts indefatigably.

There are two very pronounced aspects to this beer, I wont blame you if you can only focus on one.

There are two very pronounced aspects to this beer, I wont blame you if you can only focus on one.

S: This is easily the most complicated olfactory profile that HF has produced this side of MC2. I will attempt to pull apart these strata of eros, this is a complicated moshpit of aromas and chocolatey decadence. The first thing that stands out is a deep red wine tannic profile like an oaky merlot that is buttressed by that expensive ass 82% cacao at the register at Whole Foods. You get a light char but the affair leans more to the sweeter side of things, like a halfway house in between MC1 and MC2, more decadent than the former but not as substantial as the latter. The bourbon seems to be the relief pitcher not the closer, providing a fleeting vanilla aspect. The port seems unquestionably the dominant force in this Romulus Remus cagematch, which is great considering the premium placed on landing this over Bourbon Damon.

T: The olfactory was hard enough to convey and the cascading tastes elbowdrop off the high ropes like Summer Slam. At the outset is a red grape dryness cum de tannic tartness, but the chocolatey Pinkerton gang starts cracking heads shortly, only to be whisked away by a very light bourbon/coconut/oakiness. If you have ever listened to The Locusts and been blown away with a swift 30 second barrage of tastes, you will understand how difficult this is to convey accurately. The wine/port aspects again seem to dominate the roasty/chocolatey/bourbon aspects, but it’s more of a 70/30 co-dominance with oakiness being the underpinnings to the undulating flavors. You can’t really be doing shit else if you want to capture all the aspects of this beer because if you have this too cold or while watching Duck Dynasty, you might zone out and miss the delicate profiles that you shelled out so much to try. It’s like renting a $3,000 escort when you have the flu, save it for when you can reach full completion.

Follow your dreams: if you want a DBD, don't give up.  Keep offerings that same bottle of Huna.  Just takes the right set of eyes, dream big, never hurts to ask rite

Follow your dreams: if you want a DBD, don’t give up. Keep offerings that same bottle of Huna. Just takes the right set of eyes, dream big, never hurts to ask rite

M: This is lighter than Damon and the dryness from the oak character seems to underscore this trait. This is no underattenuated/brownie batter fest, the beer has been massaged into post-menopausal refinement with that port dryness along the gumline and the bourbon wafts tossing up barricades along the bittering zones. Personally, I felt that the competition between the two elements was dissonant almost and preferred the straightforward Bourbon Damon execution in this regard, but I have a short attention span and hate nice things. I eat Kid Cuisines and subscribe to Esquire magazine.

D: Given the foregoing complexity, you take drinks faster and try to dial in what is going on but it takes a solid 5oz just to figure out what goes where. Also, this beer completely changes over the course of 10 degrees so if you like that bourbon roastiness at 55 degrees, wait until you hit low 60s and that port starts stretching its lazy Portugese legs all over your Z Gallerie couch, gurgling out that sonorous language of tannins and Cabernet exploits. It is a shame that this is offered in a small format as it really evolves in temps and in between drinks, something that may be lost on the traditional 32 person .5 oz ballers so common in modern parlance. This is a drastically different beer than Bourbon Damon, more refined, it subscribes to Dupont Registry and Cigar Afficionado and has little in common with brash Derk Lerd plebians. To some, that will be offputting. If you like an adjunct fuck fest with chiles and vanilla beans and scorching bourbon character, don’t worry: Goose Island drops their new shit this month.

Open this at a bottle share, tickers be rolling to your table like "wantapourofthisNewGlarussssss"

Open this at a bottle share, tickers be rolling to your table like “wantapourofthisNewGlarussssss”

Narrative: It was a duplicitous life that Damonick led. By day he was Dom, a prim and proper horticulturist advising local agrarians on a litany of nuanced subjects: soil temp, nitrate fixation, turgor pressure. By night he was Nick, a decadent MDMA using throat in a local post hardcore band. He lived a relentless life and almost never slept. It was this duality that allowed him to live twice the lives that normal people would embrace. One Tuesday night Nuck skulled several bottles of Scarecrow Cab and woke up at 6am with burgundy red teeth and a searing headache, much to Dom’s chagrin. It was a rough, complicated life full of multifaceted fulfillment. Some would counsel Damonick and plead with him to give up the rough hewn night life full of debauchery and bacchanalian exploits, but to do so would be to debase Damonick into a simpler entity. It was the complexity and robust lifestyle that Damonick sought most heartily, that was one thing he couldn’t expect a one-dimensional personality to apprehend.


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

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.

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

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.

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

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!”


Cantillon St. Lamvinus, One Hell of a Lambic, God Dambic.

People go loony for loonz. Cantillon is a hot button for beer nerds and European kids alike. A few of these bottles made it to the U.S. but if this was ever on a shelf in California, that shelf would only be found in the store manager’s house. So yeah, this beer is amazing and a complete pain in the ass to acquire. What else is new.

Dorothy Lamvinus was a saint.

Brasserie Cantillon
Lambic – Fruit | 6.00% ABV

A: Nice ruby huge to a light magenta. It has micro bubbles with wispy lacing. It looks like a majestic wine cooler. If bartels and james won the lottery and went all high brow, this would be the result. Actually, if anyone won the lottery I would expect plenty of this all up in their house. This is about the closest that I get to wine, which is not very.

S: Huge tart notes with great strawberry, cherries, sour currants, and bitter grapes. Granny smith apple skins are there as well. This smells incredible. There’s that classic Cantillon musk, laundry hamper, Audi leather on a rainy day.

I cannot chill when loonz are involved. I need more, perpetually.

T: It has a crisp raspberry tartness that mellows into a smooth sweetness like a melted fruit rollup. It has a sour finish to it that imparts an incredibly refreshing dryness. This is one of the best Cantillon that I have had to date and it is one of the best Lambics that I have ever had. The vintage helped mellow it incredibly, even if it was only 2 years. The fruits interplay with the tart notes perfectly.

A little taste of Belgium, this beer is straight up showing me the world without Vanessa Williams.

M: It is incredibly light and juicy with minimal coating and chardonnay dryness that just stings and crackles in a fantastic way. The carbonation is like an army of diligent effervesence that makes sure the bitter notes are imparted with incredible efficacy. Again, just amazing balance all around. These reviews are hard to write and interject any levity because I am usually all half chub off the grapes and muskiness so I can’t focus on ways to talk shit on it. Serious problems.

D: This makes Consecration look like an imperial stout and Lindeman’s look like candy syrup. It is leagues above all other sours and lambics that I am familiar with. I could drink this in a boat, with a goat, green eggs and ham; etc. You could drink this with any food, at any location and it would be well suited. I feel that this could give white and red wine equal competition with pairings because it is so original and dynamic. I can’t imagine how blaeber could improve on this model but I am anxious to try [editors note, I tried Blabaer since I tried this and, it does improve on that model, not by a landslide but, blabbies gonna blab.]

Damn, grapes and musk, this loon can have all my digletts.

Narrative: Vitus Tanneen had been in some sticky jams before but this time, this time certainly was noteworthy. The walls of the trash compactor closed slowly, pressing the wine refuse closer into the chamber. The aluminum walls reeked of sweet grape skins and sticky notes. If not for the impending death, this would be an almost pleasant situation. “Well Sir Knuckles, looks like we are in a PRESSING SITUATION!” His friendly companion, Sir Knuckles, was an astute howler monkey with no penchant for puns. “WREE EE EE EEEK!” Sir Knuckles gestured imposingly to a hatch covered in sticky grape residue. “Well Sir Knuckles, this is one top that I have no hesitation to pop.” Using a wine opener, Vitus deftly unsealed the hatch and emerged into the bay area sunshine. “NOT TODAY KENDAL JACKSON! NOT TODAY!” He spun and his velvet tails swung after this athletic frame with the poise of a man, a man almost killed by grapes.


Avery Brewing Company Muscat D’Amour, If You Love Chardonnay, You Will Love This Lil Muscat

So Avery has had a few ups and downs on these barrel aged beers and some I would without hesitation tell you to buy them, like condoms at Warped Tour, others I have a tough time aligning myself to because I am just a slovenly low brow beer swiller with no capacity for fermented grapes. Let’s take a look at this beer and see if any Statutory Grape takes place here.

For those times when wine seems too classy but beer seems too delicious.

Avery Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
American Wild Ale | 10.78% ABV

Oh that .78%, you’ll feel it. Actually you won’t. This is an incredibly crisp and gentle wild ale that imparts its alcohol like a Yakuza strangler knocking you out. Hey, you could have just provided the access codes, alas, I digress. So this is not unfamiliar territory at first, a chardonnay aspect, light malts, a lazy apple juice meets Martinellis aspect with minimal lacing. I am not getting all fussy about the appearance because, truthfully, this is a genuinely beautiful beer. There isn’t that old qualifier where you go “but she has a great personality” or some shit, it is like a gentle old IPA that you trust with your secrets and practices making kisses with.

The smell is like a bachelorette party at a wedding doomed for failure. There’s some sassy spritzer resfreshing notes of lime and salinity like the vodka sodas from the bridesmaids, and a deep muscat grape, white grape, Chardonnay, and apple that beckons to the old folks with their time worn traditions and irrelevant opinions about vagina shaving. Ultimately, a luscious bouquet. The tannins give this INCREDIBLY dry aspect to it that is like eating too many atomic warheads that starts nailing my bicuspids on the reg.

I am not a huge white wine fan, but I love Avery's barrel aged stuff, I cannot deny that I love this beer, NO MA'AM.

The taste is incredibly juicy, dry, mildly tart, oaky, but incredibly tannic. Just start whipping up some Chilean Sea Bass if you pop this beast, the pairings will be a marital aid for the entire household. The label says this beer is “a lovely amalgamation, awash with the delicate expressions and subtle nuances of soft malt, ripe muscat blanc grapes and savory brett.” I would say that is the eHarmony dating profile of this beer that upplays some aspects and fails to underscore some obese drying aspects. This is unmistakeably beer, which I am stoked on, but it also has a huge vinuous aspect, which actually works well, as well.

This beer confused me at first, but once I understood the nuances it became incredibly fulfilling.

This reminds me of an “imperial Temptation” if that makes sense. The drying is bigger, the brett is bigger, the oak is more burly, and the kisses are more furious. If that is up your alley, consider my alley completely occupied.

There is a lot going on here but if you stick with it, you will see the mastery presented.

Narrative: Sofia took a deep sip of chardonnay and exhaled watching the Marlboro 100 smoke dance blue in the moonlight and contemplated the course of the next 35 minutes. Here she was, chapter 9 into Nicholas Sparks’s The Notebook Dvd, but she was still entirely unable to contemplate the potential for intercourse with Chad, whose first name was unmistakably irritating. The deep pulls of Barefoot and Yellowtail brought no guidance and merely muddled her divided conscience. Finally, in a moment of clarity she exhaled and saw a verisimilitude of a Velasquez painting and realized the fleeting nature of life, the bacchanalian rebirth of grapes, and the pomegranate seeds or Persephone slipping through her fingers every day. “SKIP TO CHAPTER 21” she commanded to a supplicant Chad, his memory foam mattress left besmirched with alarm. “That’s…chill…” she spit Chardonnay kisses deep into his mouth and rose above the trite romantic exploits, for in this moment, the IKEA foam and shitty movie posters could not denature what was essentially an exercise of incongruence. It was Sofia’s duty to empirically sample enough Chads to black out those sections of the Punnett Squares for the time in life when it really mattered. It wasn’t the best grad school essay, but it was true.


The Bruery Pinotlambicus, 8.2% abv

Tart like grammy

Pinot is all juiced up.

Pinotlambicus, the Bruery, Wild Ale/Sour, 8.2% abv

A:  This beer looks like an Arnold palmer with a murky dull yellow/light brown.  
There is absolutely no lacing and no carbonation except for some wispy middle bubbles.  
It appears similar to a cider and just looks reticent to get all dolled up for the drinker.

S:  The nose gives smells of funk, and very light citrus.  
It doesn’t really have much vitus in this vitus series.  
There’s definitely some green grapes and lemon zest but, nothing too amazing.

T:  The taste has a bit of a prickly taste to it with tart white wine notes. 
 It is not overly drying or overly crisp.  There’s some mild carpety finishing notes that may be some acetyl 
business going on but it isn’t a big enough carpet business to warrant filing with the state.  
It really isn’t that complex but it is pretty good, not amazing.

M:  The mouthfeel is very thin similar to a light wit bier or a Belgian blonde base. 
 It is not overly coating and it doesn’t dry too much.  The mouthfeel kinda phones it in,
 imparts the tartness and then quickly takes off to handle 
other affairs like giving me diarrhea.  You know, important matters.

D:  This is incredibly drinkable and it would be refreshing around the pool with all the girlfriends.  
Plus the crispness wont leave you bloated so you can fit into that Marciano dress you just bought.  
It is a bit too funky and tart to have a place in colder weather but it would be a sick brew 
at Havasu when things get all gnar gnar on the cutty boats.

Narrative:  “Hey Coco?” the light from the upstairs shone down into the basement 
where Mike Washington’s secret resided.  He walked down holding a bundle of green
 grapes shaking them alluringly about the habitat that he had crudely constructed. 
“Cocooooo, dinner time!” suddenly a rubicund little koala scampered down the silk 
tree and snatched the fresh concord grapes from Mike’s hand. “Omm nom nom ommm nommm…” 
the crude little koala gnashed and smashed the grapes sending skins and juice flying
 pell mell. “Who would believe them if I told them, that I had an alcoholic little 
koala in my basement. No one, that’s who, you idiot Mike.”  
He shook his head and poured a small amount of Bordeaux into Coco’s bowl and watched 
him lap it up hungrily.  
Coco’s coat was stained with smashed grapes, tannins, and splashed wine.  He looked 
like a homeless koala with an affinity for Charles Shaw, but Mike loved him all the same.  
Besides, a filthy grape addicted koala was just what he needed to jazz up his otherwise 
mediocre life. “NO COCO! BAD COCO!”  he cried out as Coco began to give the business to 
an old Cabbage Patch doll.  “You’re a marsupial, that’s totally non-canon!”