Tagged: Craft Beer

FUUUUUCKK It’s Beerenders 2017…

On the one hand, thank God it’s the end of the year. On the other hand, it’s time for another round of this year-end best-of beer bullshit. Here’s what to expect: Stupid fucking lists of masturbatory pomp and circumstance about beverages. If you want to contribute to this dumbassed annual tradition, send your list(s) via a Facebook message. Or, if you real sneaky, slide in those Insta DMs.

Fuck this.

Here’s a picture of my two favorite boys:

usain burger

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Review: Bissell Brothers Brewing Co. | Lux Rye Pale Ale

photo credit: Bissell Bros, twitter

photo credit: Bissell Bros, twitter

i’ve never committed adultery

the closest i’ve ever come

is flirting across town with two cats

in animal crossing.

 

i’ve never dabbled in that purple music.

 

that violin-laden chorus

punctuated with muted, arrogant trumpets and

spoiled with perverted

ivory keys

 

or perhaps,

maybe I’ve slid a finger or two

into the opening of a can

but not before

depositing

its contents into an unfortunate willi becher

 

reminiscing to the days of

listening to “me and mrs. jones,”

on repeat,

in a market basket,

surreptitiously

eating english muffins in the bread aisle

and drinking johnnie walker double black from

the flask

your mother got you

for christmas.

the cute grocery clerk asks you if you’re alright

passed out on the polyurethane covered tiles.

 

she doesn’t notice the crumbs

you don’t notice

she’s still in high school.

 

winters are magical.

 

the aperture captures

more than what is simply put

directly in its line of fire.

 

the work of art conveys

the true spirit of the artist

despite his silence.

 

onion beer.

stanky stanky

got that danky lanky

pepper spray

take your pants off and pray

citrus pledge wipes

smooth

yet crisp

like the junction of lips on a cold night,

before copious apologies.

 

aggressive.

as I imagined that

first

awkward kiss

with billy mays

 

to be oxy cleaned

by my oxy queen

peel the paint right off the wall.

fuck

 

oh shit

right

the beer is good.

 

*9.8 out of 10*

Review: Brasserie Dieu du Ciel! | Solstice d’été aux Framboises

Photo credit: beerism.ca

Photo credit: beerism.ca

My God, this beer smells incredible. It’s so bright and fruity! How distinctively tart, like a field of ripe red raspberries dancing in the cool breeze! The nose on this is so good I could just

Vote for Hillary Clinton.

COCAINE 2016

howard-dean

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

WORLDSTAR

*9.0 out of 10*

Review: Founders Brewing Co. | Azacca IPA

credit: foundersbrewing.com

credit: foundersbrewing.com

I suppose there are musicians who have aged into their art gracefully. Ironically, when I started writing this, David Bowie was still alive.

Even more ironically, near injuriously, there then are musicians who have aged like bananas,
And Keith Richards still tours.

…Something else about Ice Cube and Are We There Yet.

Then what’s left are the pajamas-in-the-daytime set.

These are those whose appeal you equate with spending the day sipping coffee until 1 in the afternoon, milling about, before driving 5 blocks up the street to the discount grocery store where you buy five potatoes, one beer, maple syrup and toilet paper while glaring at the couple in North Face apparel in a strangely classist manner.

Does life still have the same meaning under fluorescent light?

You stand in the checkout line, becoming itchy beneath your fleece, wondering if it’s psychosomatic. You’re captivated by the smell of fried resignation coming from the deli department. The chicken carcasses dance their post-mortem pirouettes. They glisten, all pretty and clean. They exist fondly as they do formerly. Soon, you wonder this of yourself. The high school sophomore who rings up your groceries asks for your ID. You pause, momentarily; shocked that you realize you have memories older than she is. She sulks and heaves her uncaring arm forth, demanding legal rectitude in the form of a seemingly meaningless magnetic plastic totem.

This robotic bitch has never been haunted by heartbreak or the inevitability of death. Or, maybe she has, and you’re just too cold as to exist beyond the confines of your hollow, garbage vessel.

You know: those artists you feel just awkwardly comfortable approaching when it comes to their latest endeavors, like Morrissey, or Dr. Dre.

So, yes, I guess I am saying that Founders Azacca IPA is sort of like Morrissey or Dr. Dre. I guess that sounds pretty great.

…but it’s pretty yeah.
Since the day Mike Stevens and Dave Engbers founded Founders, they have at least attempted to brew along the cutting edge. The question now is: ArE They FUKin 2 Old 2 BrU?
Well, they are at least using a new, fresh hop in their attempt to stay relevant.

…In a glass, it resembles 4C iced tea clutched in the fingers of an angry aunt, smoking a pack between a kid and the delicate cycle. Translucent to transparent, it carries a slight haze with an off-white inch of head that recedes to a soapy film.
Sparse bubbles rise slowly from the bottom of the glass. Congratulate them.

My nostrils aren’t necessarily arrested, but perturbed by suggestions of orange sherbet, apricot, some sort of bullshit earthiness like wet leaves.

Wait, wait,

there’s something else. Something I can only describe as peach chutney follows.

Fuck,

let’s just call it Ritz crackers with some Smuckers’ orange marmalade on top.

I taste orange, melon—cantaloupe, light mango, grapefruit. There’s a grape characteristic distinct enough to the point of being reminscent of grape pop rocks. It tastes… irresponsible. It hearkens to the reckless abandon of one who pisses on walls of city hall, of one who bothers arguing that it’s in the name of liberal values, shouting, “I READ THE NEW YORK TIMES! I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! I’M ALIVE! WAKE UP WORLD!”

…but I’m not necessarily saying this is a good thing.

The mouth touch is clean, yet not exceptionally thin—somewhat watery. Therein lies a medium to light mouth touch, dry, astringent finish.

I don’t know. I appreciate what Founders is doing, but with a beer like this I can’t help but feel they are sort of like the cool mom with the tight clothes who claims to like Kendrick Lamar because she heard he was a Grammy nominee, but cannot get his album title right (“Pimping a Butterfly?).

I’m not expecting you to understand.

*8.3 out of 10*

Beerenders: Derek Piette

JESUS, Derek; a best and a worst? You people keep fucking around with the rules. God, I fucking hate all of you. Why do I even bother doing this? I swear to God, you people are just a bunch of mindless sheep who just fucking chirp chirp like meat pickles in a goddamned rainstorm of monkey piss. Fuck myself. Fuck you, Derek.

 

Fuck you and fuck this list

 

Best:

6. Pabst Brewing Co. | PBR (for a dollar)

Pabst_Blue_Ribbon_packaging_logo

Ok. This should be number one on a technicality. A dollar for a PBR? I’d kill a man for a dollar PBR. Do you hear me? A dude, fucking dead.
5. Other Half Brewing Co.

Other Half Brewing Co

The whole brewery. Seriously? Oh, just let me just pick every beer in NYC for that matter– no wait, America,–no wait, the fucking world,– no wait, beer

4. BFM | Abbaye de Saint Bon-Chien (Biere de Garde, 2014 vintage)

BrasserieBFM-AbbayedeSaintBon-Chien2014-Grande

Parlez-vous douche bag?
3. Anderson Valley Brewing Co. | The Kimmie, The Yink, & The Holy Gose

This photo came from fucking Fox News

This photo came from fucking Fox News

That’s right, Fox News. Put that in your pipe and fuck yourself.
2. Zero Gravity Craft Brewery | Green State Lager (Pilsener)

Green State Lager

Bruh, let’s go camping, I swear I won’t put my finger in your bum while you sleep.
1. Lost Nation Brewing | Gose

Lost-Nation-Gose-Cans

Three cheers if you like sour cheerios!
Worst:

5. Lost Nation Brewing | Gose

Lost-Nation-Gose-Cans

Wait, wait, I feel you on this one. At its worst, band-aids and cold sweat. Fuck this beer.
4. Lawson’s Finest Liquids | Maple Tripple (American Strong Ale w/Maple, 2015 vintage)

Lawson's Maple Tripple

YEAH, Fuck this!
3. Lawson’s Finest Liquids | Rhubarb Basil Saison

Lawson's Rhubarb Basil

OH YEAH, KEEP IT COMING
2. Ballast Point Brewing Company | Sculpin Nitro IPA

Ballast Point Sculpin Nitro

…Oh. Yeah, I guess this sucks too. Whatever.
1. Hill Farmstead Brewery | Abner (American Imperial IPA, mid-late 2015 vintage)

abner-imperial-hillfarmstead

Dirk bicycles.

Bicycles hard

 

Deerk is a “bartender” at a magical place called “Waterworks”

 

Derek likes foofie drinks

Derek serves foofie drinks

Derke has a kitty kat

Dekre

Deek

Drsk

Drm

DFM

FM

FJM

Father John Misty

 

Drk Foofie man

Foofie

Foofie

Foofie

Foofie

I’m losing faith in the public school system.

Beerenders: Travis Perrotte

Ooh, looky-here, Mr. Travis decided to be Mr. Difficult and gave me a top-six list. Either way, nobody cares, here’s this stupid shit:
6. 21st Amendment Brewing Co. | Toaster Pastry (India-style red ale)

toaster-pastry beer

What the fuck? A pop-tart? Wait, this is a beer?

5. The Alchemist | Focal Banger (American IPA)

focal_sign_01

Real mature.

4. Burlington Beer Co. | Chunky (American-style peanut butter porter, 2015 vintage)

chunky burlington beer

Another obscure beer. Seriously, what’s wrong with you fucking beer hipsters? What’s next, pizza stout? Tuna saison? An American pale ale enema? Fuck off. Peanut butter in your fucking beer; Grow up.

3. Hill Farmstead Brewery | Double Citra (Imperial pale ale)

double citra

Boy, Sean Lawson really hit it out of the park with this one. It’s almost as good as his Heady Topper, but luckily it’s widely available at an affordable price.

2. Goose Island Brewing Co. | Bourbon County Brand Regal Rye Stout (2015 vintage)

bourbon county regal rye


1. Grimm Artisanal Ales | Tesseract (American DIPA)

Tesseract Grimm DIPA

Nice. Another beer I’ll never have. Awesome, Travis. Aren’t you a fucking snowflake.

These are Travis’s top 5 beers, I guess.

Travis likes to take a lot of fucking pictures.

I like this one:

Travis Perrotte Lake Champlain
The other ones are also ok, I guess.

But where are the fuckin snuff films, you cow
Travis needs to stop being a shithead and remember that peanut butter is for drinking, not for eating.

Geez, people.

I bet, if you asked Father John Misty if he liked putter bumpkin in his beer, he’d probably kick you in the dick.

Yeah, right in the mouth.

Anyway, here’s Father John Misty: