Category: Uncategorized

Non-Beer Review: Occhipinti | SP68 Bianco

_20170810_214654

Uhh… An Earl Grey peach pit told me prom didn’t exist

 

*Better than sex/10*

Advertisements

Review: Zima Beverage Co. (MillerCoors) | Zima (2017)

Jeff,

pass

the

aux

cord

 

Bruh, you better not play

“Two Princes” by Spin Doctors

 

 

It’s time to smoke

 

  1. CRACK

Baby

And rob a bank

Because it’s 2017 and ZIMA’S BACK

 

It’s been a hard year

 

Donald Trump is gonna

make KFC day a national holiday

and your boy is gonna spray paint

Jeff Sessions

smocking a

dobie on the back of my

 

 

Trukc

 

 

If you ever wondered what it would have been like to drink the Coors “clearmalt” classic while Twin Peaks was still on the air, now’s your chance.

 

I was lucky to score a bottle of this whale down at my local bottle shop, of all places.

 

No line.

 

No kidding.

 

Right?! I was fucking pumped, son.

 

They had a couple bottles of this Tilquin variant too, but I just had to pass though. Tickers were on my trail.

 

Let me show you my kill, dude…

 

 

Yeah, had to break out my OG Other Half Teku for this one.

 

So fresh

 

Oh, and peep that Trill-dill-ium Dialed-In print there?

 

So clutch, my dued.

 

So anyway, super clear, tight bubbles, nice legs on the glass—and I mean legggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggS

Sude

 

How do they get it so clear dude

I don’t get it,

Another lvel bruffest

Fock

 

It’s got that look of thin, cold spit– like a baby overflowing in grandma’s arms.

 

MMM and that nose?  Bruh, it’s weird, but it reminds me of a good sake mixed with Tang.

…Lightly bready…

A little bit of steamed rice… and pineapple Italian ice.

 

Dude, studying for this Cicerone exam has really helped me capture these volatile aromatics, bro

 

Sprite and codeine

 

Sticks to the mouth

Like tomorrow’s hangover

Or dried blood

Or

Both.

 

This is literally the equivalent of Riff Raff’s Instagram account.

 

*Jeff/10*

 

Beerenders: Shawn Beaulieu

Alright, ALRIGHT; here’s long-time reader and Malt Fiction subscriber “Shawn’s” top 5 beers of the year. Don’t go crazy, everybody; just calm the fuck down. We all know how important this is. We’re going to get through it:

 

5. Hermit Thrush Brewery | Jolly Abbot (Sour Belgian Barleywine, 2015 vintage)

credit: untappd.com

Sure, Bolio, pick something no one has ever heard of. You piece of shit. Oh, right, I was there when you tried that.  You still suck.

4. Maine Beer Company | Lunch IPA (American IPA)

Maine beer lunch

Eh.

3. Hill Farmstead Brewery | Arthur (Farmhouse Ale, 2015 vintage)

hf arthur

SHIT SON, YOU CAN PUT THIS BEER IN YOUR TOP 5, BUT NOT “I LOVE YOU, HONEYBEAR” BY FATHER JOHN MISTY IN YOUR TOP 10 ALBUMS? FUCK YOU.

2. Bissell Brothers Brewing Co. | The Substance Ale (American IPA)

substance ale

Okey dokey, Sam Blow, I’ll give you a pass on this one.

1. Brouwerij Rodenbach | Rodenbach Caractère Rouge (Flanders Red Ale)

Brock Rodenbach Caractere

THIS IS THE GODEL, ESCHER, BACH OF BEERS. FIGURES, BOLIO.

uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

…fuck, where was I?

Uh,

Anyway,

These are, uh, Shane Bowery’s favorite beers.

Shap hates music, I guess–

And he lives in Canada

You might as well call him Ted Cruz.

At least Ted Cruz probably likes “I Love You, Honeybear,” by Father John Misty.

Fucking idiot

Fuck you, Jane Blooey.
Now give me my money.

PLEASE free Shamu.

 

This is what I think of your top 5, Jim-

Who Said Mores in LA (Op-Ed Hooray, HO, HEY, HO)

11116856_1423146947986769_1984625946_n

 

My mother drove me to drinking within 5 minutes of clearing the security checkpoint at Burlington International Airport.

It was nine in the morning.

A crepe, ham, egg, and a Heady.

I was acutely aware of my uniqueness. Tightwads in ties and pantsuits were typing away on their slightly out-of-date laptops, judgingly.

Fuck them.
I was on vacation.

I touched down in LAX at rush hour. I was greeted by a dying Italian man, hard-of-hearing. I told him, “The corner of Venice and Westwood—
NO
THE CORNER OF WESTWOOD AND
YES,
THE CORNER—
THE CORNER—
YES, CORNER.
THE CORNER OF WESTWOOD—
WEST
WOOD
AND
VEN-ISS
He asked for the address instead.
We were on our way.
10 minutes in Los Angeles, and I already knew we missed Sepulveda Boulevard.
Fuck, this guy doesn’t know where the hell we’re going.
“We take the freeway?”
“Uh, whatever which way is fastest.” My taxi negotiation methods were completely on point.

Exhausted, I stumbled into the apartment, sweaty and careworn.
Awkwardly and carefully, I was welcomed like a fledgling bird, discovering flight—
Or, Jesus at a cocktail party.
The expression of reunion of old friends—
Socially awkward old friends—
Is something to witness.
–Like getting away with uttering an offensive joke, but more than just that.
It’s like saying a certain six letter word in the midst of a certain demographic and getting a pat on the back.
While I was ecstatic to reunite with a friend of seven-years-past and to meet his witty fiancée, I needed two things.
Food
Beer.
I got both.
Firestone DBA and some cheap Brazilian food were my introduction to West LA—the West Coast.
The world became a suddenly massive place
And I was in an increasingly expansive space
Of
Ghettos
And
High
Rises
Payday loans
And
Ten bedroom homes
Thank you Ralph’s!
The Santa Monica pier
Bull seals
And Russian River Beer
I was introduced to
Modern Times
At my Father’s Office
Did I learn
My
Arithmetic
When I delved
Deep into
My pockets .

Pivo Pils was all well and fine with
Ahi burgers at the quarter of 9.
As Thursday dilly-dallied
I guzzled Anderson Valley
Grand Cru;
And while it was silky as wine
Jardinier was mighty kind.

And while I loved the beers of Beachwood BBQ so,

Entry 1: “Blogging is Cool When You’re Being Super-Critical about Stuff, Right?”

Not really.

At the end of the day, all you’re really looking at is the manifestation of a lonely and mostly fruitless hobby. Depressing, you say? Why yes, in fact, unless you’ve got the connections, and the ad space, sponsorship, endorsements and at that point no life, you’re really just casting pieces of paper you scribbled some inane musings on into the vast rapids of a tempestuous tide, never to be seen again (except by those friends of yours at the river bank with their own crumpled napkins in hand who catch your debris floating downstream). I’m not here, however, to talk about rivers or napkins or endorsements for that matter.

The purpose of what’s before you is really a labor of love for myself, my friends and anyone else who loves

well, beer.

What you’re looking at is a webpage with a keen, discriminating eye for all things hoppy,  malty, chewy, salty, meaty, wheat-y, refreshing and good. The mission is simple:

Find what’s fresh,

Celebrate tradition,

Advocate for the little guy,

and frankly, fuel a delicious vice.

That is all.

-J. Poulin