Low on cash and short on time, I quickly grabbed a bottle of Southern Tier Oak Aged Cuvee Series 3. I knew nothing about this beer but Southern Tier has always been solid at the very least when it comes to their brews that AREN’T in 12 oz. bottles. This one was 650mL and packaged in a box. Don’t even get me started on the pretentiousness of boxed beer (yeah, I know it keeps out sunlight but I didn’t plan on storing this fucker atop the roof of my house). As soon as I tweeted a pic of the bottle I purchased I was immediately met with negative responses and got basically zero positive feedback from people who already tried the beer.

Tonight I cracked it open and tried to drink it while listening to the latest episode of the United We Drink podcast and naturally Phil and Mike (@dosbeerigos and @mikelovesbeer on Twitter, respectively) spent a few seconds shitting all over this beer. Guess what? They were right. It’s a tart, syrupy, over-sweetened disaster. The aroma was actually pleasant – sort of fruity, a little hoppiness, and the oak was present, but it smelled like a piece of wood furniture that someone’s grandfather sprayed with a hundred cans of Lemon Pledge. Two sips. Two god damn sips was all I could take. Whaddya know – Southern Tier is not infallible in their larger-bottled offerings. Rather than post my usual bottle-and-poured-glass pic, here’s the photo this beer really deserves:

Cheers, bitches.

Per ounce, these were by far the most expensive beers I’ve bought from Cigar City.  A couple friends of mine had trouble justifying the $7 price tag per 12oz bottle, but $14 for 24 ounces of beer is less than I’ve paid for several 22oz bombers that were a disappointment.  Plus, I’ll take whatever Cigar City I can get my hands on in South Floriduh.

Either pours pitch black and has a brown head that lasts seconds and then disappears forever, though it does leave a fair amount of lacing on the glass.  The aroma has the faintest hint of coffee, grassy citrus and surprisingly little alcohol considering the beer is 11%.  The taste begins with a creaminess up front and a heavy hop bitterness on the back end.  The high ABV really doesn’t play any role until the beer starts climbing toward room temperature, and by then you realize the 11% has caused you to warm up a bit, too.  The aftertaste is what’s really intriguing – a playful combo of roastiness, hops, and melon fruit.  It’s brewed with honey but I never picked up any in the aroma or flavors.  A very thin but nice layer of smokiness lingers throughout as well.  There’s definite complexity here but it’s just not blowing my skirt up.  Perhaps the talk I heard about Or being superior handicapped my judgment of Either a bit, but my taste buds don’t lie.

I popped off the cap on my bottle of Or and before I poured it I could already notice the difference in aroma coming from the bottle.  Much more floral and hoppy.  Just as Either did, Or pours pitch black but has a quarter-inch brown head that just will not go away.  The aroma is much sweeter than Either’s roasty characteristics.  I didn’t pick up any of the Spanish cedar on which Either was aged, but Or reveals it quite well. I can already tell Or is superior to Either just as everyone said it was.  The taste is creamy, hoppy, fruity and sweet, with a bit of peppery citrus and black licorice.  The alcohol is more noticeable than it was in Either, but Or doesn’t hit me with the same kind of buzz.  The amount of lacing left in the glass is ridiculous, to the point where it completely swallows the Cigar City logo and makes me wish I had a better camera just to show you.  The only noticeable downside to Or is it leaves a dry yet pasty mouthfeel after every sip.

Or is definitely more enjoyable than Either and is probably worth the price tag, whereas Either is something I wouldn’t bother with again.  The hops, honey, and Spanish cedar are all prevalent in Or and make it much tastier and more drinkable.  I drank these weeks apart so my comparison is strictly from all the notes I wrote and from memory, but I would have liked to had them side by side during the same sitting.  I’ll certainly be sure to do so when parts 3 and 4 of this collaboration, called Neither and Nor, arrive in stores.

Cheers, bitches!

While 2010 saw many new breweries reach South Floriduh, I didn’t get to drink as much as I’d have liked and missed out on lots of great beer events.  One of my favorite moments was trekking up to Tampa’s own Cigar City Brewing for the first time along with a half dozen #FlaBrew friends for the Marshal Zhukov Imperial Stout release.  It’s only January and 2011 is shaping up to be an even more exciting year in beer, starting with this month’s Jupiter Craft Brewers Festival.  I attended last year’s festival and it was one of the best times I’ve ever had. In fact, it was such a good time that when it was time to leave, I drunkenly stumbled back to the parking garage, found my car and passed out inside it for several hours, making Terry Schiavo look like a fucking amateur.  Soon we’ll be seeing the return of Bell’s Hopslam and many other exciting brews, and there are tons of beer events already lined up. I’m easily the most pessimistic dickwad you’ll ever meet, but I’m truly eager to blast through 2011.

Day 6 of 2011 and I’m already averaging more than 1 new beer/day, which may not seem like much to you hardcore beer geeks trying to climb your way up the national liver transplant recipient list, but for me it’s miraculous.  New Year’s Eve kicked things off with Sierra Nevada’s 30th Anniversary Jack & Ken’s Black Barleywine Ale (phenomenal), then I stupidly worked backward into a Bell’s Winter White Ale (tons of banana in that one but completely wrong style for the season, even in Floriduh), Avery Old Jubilation (ass) and Samuel Adams Infinium champagne-esque ale (tasty and easier to drink than an entire bottle of actual bubbly).  Wow – did I just use the word “bubbly”?  Here’s my Man Card and a rusty scissors to remove my genitals.

Bell’s “Special” Double Cream Stout was a disappointment, but a year-old Expedition Stout was like a $4,000/night escort in a glass.  It was heavenly.  Mind-blowingly orgasmic.  The only downside was that there were only 12 ounces of it.  It tasted barrel-aged almost.  AGl;jl;wJAwjgjajglja332gqg2/,aw3.  Sorry, just had to wipe drool off the keyboard.  I didn’t even intend to age it.  I enjoyed Expedition last year and bought an extra bottle, but every time I looked in the fridge I thought, “Eh, it’s a 10% stout, no rush”.  Next thing I know it’s 2011 and I needed a drink.  I haven’t enjoyed a total accident like that since the birth of my second child.

Tonight I’m enjoying a nice bomber of Cigar City’s Improvisacion Oatmeal Rye India-style Brown Ale.  There’s a fantastic aroma that seems to juggle rye bread, malt, alcohol, brown sugar and just overall richness, which all find their way into the taste along with an extremely welcome hoppiness that stomps all over your taste buds like a flaming bag of dogshit at your doorstep.  Browns in all their various incarnations have never been a favorite style of mine, but Cigar City always seems to do something unique and bold with them and I keep finding myself pleasantly surprised.  I like keeping all my old Cigar City bottles and usually their labels are interesting and eye-catching, but I have no idea what’s going on with this one, which frankly bores the piss out of me and doesn’t excite me for what’s on the other side of the glass.  Nevertheless, Improvisacion is another hit for CCB and could be one of my favorites from them.  Get some if you have the means.

Cheers, bitches!

Yes, I need a new camera for 2011.

“But, Joel, baseball metaphors in December?”. Hey, I’m not a professional writer and certainly don’t get paid for this shit, so just go with it.

With the normally positive adjective “remarkable” noticeably prefixing this beer’s name on the label, I found it to be a bit of a ballsy notion on Breckenridge’s part. Plenty of beers have aggressive names (and don’t always live up to them) but rarely do you see such descriptors slapped across the top of the label in large font. Technically, the beer could suck and still be remarkable since the word itself basically means “able to be remarked upon” and I could remark all day on how bad it is, but I’m getting off track before I’ve even tasted it. I do like the style of the label, which reminds me of product packaging from the ’30s and ’40s, probably my favorite era of American history.

I used a real cheap-ass bottle opener which didn’t pop off the cap in one shot, but as I first bent it upward, a horrific blast of carbonation sprayed out at me and I swear to your preferred fictional deity that it smelled just like Budweiser. I suddenly became very apprehensive and worried this porter wouldn’t meet my hopeful expectations. It pours dark brown and looks thin, with no head except for a thin ring of bubbles lining the glass at the surface.

The initial stench of Budweiser was a complete anomaly and is thankfully absent, but now I’m struggling to pick up anything else. The first thing I was expecting to smell was vanilla, obviously, but it’s barely there. The label lists no ABV and I’m too lazy to look it up, but it does come across slightly boozy among thinly-layered notes of malt, coffee and new car. Yes, new car.

The flavor itself is extremely peculiar and sadly disappointing. There’s even less vanilla in the taste than the nose and the watery mouthfeel ought to unveil more than the little I’m picking up. There’s a bit of roastiness but it just washes away, and if I concentrate enough, I absolutely detect a chalky, medicinal characteristic that immediately reminds me of prescribed elixirs I was forced to drink during various childhood sicknesses, usually holding my nose in the process to mask the awful taste.

Damn you, Breckenridge. I love the style. I love the label. But the beer is just all wrong. Maybe I’ve come to expect too much from beers touting dessert-like flavors (vanilla, chocolate, creme brûlée, etc), but there is nothing that compels me to continue sipping this bland, soulless concoction.

Cheers, kitchen sink!

The Hairy Eyeball pours pitch black with no head aside from a hair-thin tan ring around the glass. There’s also not much aroma at all, either. I detected the tiniest hint of hops, along with raisin, molasses and…soy sauce?

I didn’t know what style of ale they were going for since there’s nothing to indicate one way or another on the label, so I had to check online and learned it’s supposed to be an American strong ale. The first sip is bold and medium-bodied. Carbonation, which isn’t too high, still keeps it from attaining that creamy mouthfeel I prefer, like in Cigar City’s 69 Double Cream Ale (save the jokes, smartasses). Definite hop presence, nice and bitter to hold back that raisiny-molasses I’m not crazy about. Aside from Lagunitas’ Undercover Investigation Shut Down Ale, I haven’t been much of a Lagunitas fan, but this one is good. Well, “solid” is a more appropriate descriptor. I’d recommend someone try it once if given the chance, but I wouldn’t tell them to expect to be blown away. I’ve spilled out a couple Lagunitas brews in the past, but it looks like I’ll be finishing this one. Nice balance, nothing earth-shatteringly beergasmic but nothing to complain about, either.

It pours a glowing hybrid of cola brown and deep brick red with a pencil-thin, yellowish mocha head. The smell of
it is just phenomenal – brown sugar, just as you’d expect, but lots of piney citrus and hops and a little dark fruit thrown in. There’s definite caramel detected, immediately taking me back to my mother’s kitchen where as a child I’d watch her boil sugar syrup until it formed hard candy.

With all the sugary sweetness and fruitiness in the aroma, the taste can come across as awkward, as pleasant as it is. Everything takes a back seat to the hops – the sugars, the fruit, all of it. The bitterness is most notable on the finish and lingers for a while. Never once is the 9.99% alcohol (why not just say 10% ?) noticeable, even as it warms. Its effects are felt, though, and after a 12 ounce bottle you’ll feel nice and mellow (especially on an empty stomach, as I was).

I gotta hand it to Lagunitas – Brown Shugga was most certainly a curveball thrown my way. It doesn’t taste like it smells and vice versa, but there’s absolutely nothing to dislike about it. I don’t know I’d want to buy any more of it, but I liked it and am glad I tried Brown Shugga.

Anyway, I’m drinking a Breckenridge Lucky U IPA. Lucky you, I’m drinking it so you don’t have to.

Pours a burnt orange and settles into a rusty amber. No head, just a little bubbly residue on the surface.

Moderately hoppy nose that unfortunately seems like it’s trying to mask the odor of human feces. I have two kids in diapers – trust me, I know shit when I smell it. Tried to get an even deeper whiff and accidentally poured some right up my fucking nose. Drying out my nostrils reveals a bready, earthy aroma that’s not only pleasant but hidden if you don’t actually snort this liquid through your schnozz.

Luckily the shit smell stays in the aroma territory and mercifully contributes nothing to the taste. It’s medium-bodied and falls just short of creaminess. Peppery hops hog the spotlight from a subdued maltiness and there’s a small but noticeable white onion presence that reminds me of salsa (the dip, not the dance).

It’s not great and it’s not awful. I think it lands somewhere in the “meh” category. The fecal aroma is a serious distraction and there’s not much in the taste that makes me want to keep reaching for the glass for another sip. I like the mouthfeel and bitterness but overall it’s forgettable.

It pours like a dark iced tea and has a great aroma of hops to it, but that’s where the enjoyment ends. Drinking it tastes like some kind of hops seltzer – medium carbonation and plenty of bitterness, but there’s absolutely no sweetness, citrus or malt to balance it. It’s crisp and refreshing in a way, but there’s absolutely nothing to complement the hops and give it any tastiness. It’s just bitter. That’s it.

I didn’t expect much from this one and certainly didn’t get much, but I’d still try it on tap to see if it’s any better than the bottle. Sam Adams has a lot of work to do if they expect to compete in the IPA category. Weak.

Why it takes 10 fucking words to repeat the name of a beer, I have no idea. Note to Harpoon – I want a beer, not an overly complicated latte from Starbucks. I have a fairly good memory but I simply can’t memorize this name. It’s not catchy or even remotely enjoyable to say. I keep winding up calling it “Glacier Wet Hop Whatever-the-Fuck”. Seriously. The beer may be small batch but the name sounds like it belongs on the back of a Samoan NFL lineman’s jersey.

What’s in the bottle isn’t any better than what you find on the label. There’s an intense presence of metal in the aroma and flavor, almost like iron in blood. As I mentioned on Twitter while drinking it, it “tastes like an overhopped Bud Ice”. It really did taste like some cheapshit macro with metallic hops, if that makes any sense (which it shouldn’t, since no beer should be this awkwardly bad). We don’t get much Harpoon down here but I do grab some whenever I see it. Glacier Wet Hop Whatever-the-Fuck makes me hesitant to be so eager for their future brews whenever they arrive in stores next time. For an ale that boasts of its hops on the label, it also notes it’s a measly 38 IBUs and 6.7% ABV. It’s almost too easy to make the “Glad they only made a small batch” joke. Also, Harpoon attempts to pat itself on the back as describing this ale as “a celebration of local ingredients: freshly harvested “wet” hops from New York state and Maine-grown pale malted barley”. Well is it really that local if you’re getting ingredients from two different states? That’s like saying the dinner I made tonight came from my garden when I really bought the contents from the grocery 3 blocks away.

Tonight, however, I had a bit of better luck when I opened my first beer from Breckenridge Brewery – 471 Small Batch IPA (See? Much easier name. Simple. Concise). I first noticed Breckenridge beers at a Total Wine in Tampa but neglected to purchase any as I was unfamiliar with it. But once it arrived in south Floriduh, I grabbed a few a few including their Vanilla Porter, which I can’t wait to try.

It looks just like apple cider when you pour it, sort of a hazy brown with a reddish glow. Like any normal marriage, there’s not much head, and if any, it disappears quickly. Nice hop aroma with a smattering of lemongrass, citrus and a little of the 9.2% alcohol contained within. The first sips are exceptionally creamy, instantly reminding me of Cigar City Brewing’s 69 Double Cream Ale. It’s much, much sweeter than I expected, but not malty sweet. It transforms as it warms, becoming thinner and more drinkable, but the sweetness dissipates and the hops really shine through, as well as the heavy alcohol. There’s a pleasingly peppery aftertaste that lingers and for a brief second I even tasted what could only be described as a salty soft pretzel, which I’m now craving thanks to this beer. At first, the unexpected creaminess made me glad I only bought one bottle, but as it improved with temperature,  I found myself wishing I’d bought more. This is an excellent double-hopped IPA and you’d be remiss not to try it if available in your area.

Humidor Series IPA straight from the brewery's tasting room

I have to say that I really dig the older version of the label more than the new one. The original has this black-and-white prohibition-era feel to it. The newer one feels like some marketing dildo got in the brewery’s head and told them to punch it up a bit. But that’s all nonsense because the real achievement is what’s inside the bottle. My bottle with the original label had a couple months of age on it when I finally opened it last week but it was phenomenal. The citrus pine of the hops and heavy presence of that Spanish cedar combine to form one of the best IPAs I’ve ever had. I was honestly expecting to be overpowered by one characteristic or another because Cigar City makes some bold and ballsy beers, but Humidor Series IPA is simply fantastic and very drinkable. Less than a week after this one, I opened the newer bottle and although the same enjoyable qualities were there, I noticed less of the wood-aging, just as everyone told me to expect. I pointed out the noticeable difference on Twitter and amazingly got the following response from the brewery:

I was impressed that they responded so quickly and give them a lot of credit for wanting to set the record straight on their beer. Many breweries simply brush off criticism or ignore it entirely *coughAllagashcoughcough*. The newer bottle I tried definitely seemed more like Jai Alai IPA than the wood-aged version but Cigar City made it clear why and I intend to pick up another bottle soon to taste all the greatness found in the first one I enjoyed so much. It’s not easy to get Cigar City beers and I’m only a couple hundred miles from the brewery, so I can imagine the frustration from beer lovers across the nation. If you have the means to trade for one or pick some up during a trip to Floriduh, I highly recommend this beer.

More in-depth reviews can be found here:

MikeLovesBeer

DosBeerigos

DailyBeerReview