“It’s all very exciting. We have wood. Now you do too.” Huh, you might ask? But it’s true: I’ve never been so excited- to the point of getting wood- that another dude got wood! Palo Santo Marron is a brown ale brewed in 10,000 gallon Palo Santo wood vessels. That’s right, the off-centered folks at Dogfish Head went all the way down to Paraguay to get…wood! And I’m pretty god damn happy that they did.

The first time I tried this beer last year I wasn’t a big fan. But don’t fault the beer. You see, drinking a big, malty, high abv (12%) beer in 100 degree heat is a lot like getting head when you feel like having diarrhea. Whether you’re male or female, it’s hard to focus on pleasure when you’re worried about a butt pee eruption exploding in your lover’s face. I’m just not down with fecalphelia; But Palo Santo Marron when it’s cold out, yes I am.

While they call this thing a Marron, or brown, it pours like a big, viscous imperial stout- complete with a big mocha head. In fact, tasting it blind, I’d be hard put to not to call it a stout. The pleasant roasted malt flavors are supported by sweet caramel and subtle vanilla notes. And just like a good barrel aged stout, it has a really smooth and creamy, almost slick mouthfeel. The 12 oz. bottle I consumed had about a year’s worth of bottle age on it, and should be even better with a couple more years on it. With temperatures reaching close to 100 degrees last week, it shouldn’t be hard to give this tasty brew a little more time to mellow out.

‘Official’ booze reviews score: 90 points + 1 for the bottled-on date.
Final score: 91 points

This west coast style triple IPA is big and unapologetic. With an abv over 11% disguised like a stripper in a nun’s suit, Exponential Hoppiness will leave you exponentially inebriated and absolved satisfied. Drunken hyperbole aside, it is with good reason that this beer has been dubbed “the most dangerous beer in America.” Having split my last growler with Tunk last night, I’m still fighting back a headache today (the 09 Stone IRS and the Cuvee Rene I had first probably didn’t help). Drinking your own growler is not advised!

Expo pours a light amber-orange (more golden when held in the light) with an abundant fluffy white head- an appearance like its younger sibling, Pure Hoppiness. But a closer look signals what is to come: the bubbles rising from the bottom of the glass slowly labor to the top, struggling to cut through the viscous, almost syrupy body. Having shared a couple other growlers of this within the past few weeks, I finally chose the right glass. Usually I drink out of the double-walled glasses during the scorching heat of our hellishly long summer, but I like Expo a lot more when it’s colder. For me, the imbibability (yeah, I don’t care if that isn’t a word- the barrage of BMC marketing touting the superior “drinkability” of their fizzy yellow piss water drives me crazy) really decreases as the temp rises: the sweet vanilla and oak become a little too pronounced, the alcohol heats up, and it becomes a little heavy, almost syrupy on the tongue. When cold, Expo provides a nice balance of floral and piney hop resin with sweet vanilla and oak, with a little citrus and booze hiding in there. The surprisingly balanced bitterness from the exponential amount of hops and booze combines to provide a nice, fairly dry finish, priming you for the next drink. For a monster IIIPA, Expo is way too easy…that is, assuming you don’t let it warm too much.

So how does Expo stack up next to the king of IIIPAs, Pliny the Younger? While J David and Jesse The Hutt might disagree, I’d have to give the nod to Younger. They are completely different beasts, but the grapefruit and desert-dryness of the Younger tip the scale for me. Not to detract from Expo, I’d take it in a heartbeat over Maha or Dorado.

Score: 93 points.

No, this is not a Star Wars spoof. But I’m guessing the good vs. evil theme will figure prominently. Beer Wars is a documentary that will only be shown in theaters across the country on April 16. Directly after its screening, a live half-hour discussion with various beer experts and moderator, Ben Stein, will take place. If you like craft beer and have ever wondered how hard it is for the little upstart brewery to carve out a niche in the face of the evil BMC (Bud-Miller-Coors) Galactic Empire, then this may be the documentary for you. For more info, go here.

I’d been avoiding this beer now for close to 2 years. It scares me. From what I could remember, it was a great big malty, bitter (102 IBUs), alcoholic (10.27% abv) motherfuckin’ beast. More of a chore than a pleasure to put back. But after initially hating Green Flash Imperial IPA (it was a bad bottle), then really enjoying it on tap a few months back, I decided to give some IIPAs that I hadn’t really enjoyed another chance. Having just been bottled in February (thanks, Avery, for the bottled-on date), I thought I might catch Batch 9 nice and fresh and maybe enjoy it a little more. One thing is sure, it’s still a fuckin’ beast.

I was almost fooled when I first started drinking it while still really cold from the fridge. The malt wasn’t shy, but it was only a little sweet and tempered by nice carbonation; the bitterness kicked in at the end, and there was only a mild alcohol burn. With a little warming in the glass that all changed: the panties dropped and then the sack dislodged. Fuck! It was heavy on the tongue, the massive malt bill filled in, the sweetness increased, and the alcohol burn kicked in. And then the bitterness started to accumulate. After the first few sips I was wondering where the hell all those 102 IBUs were, but I guess they were just tucked away pretty well, waiting for the right moment to expose themselves. About mid way through the glass my tongue started to tingle. I’ve never actually chewed on a hop cone, but back in high school I did chew on the fresh “cone” of its currently illegal, distant family (Cannabaceae) member. And it was just like that. Your whole mouth reeling from puckering bitterness, tongue coated in resinous oil-even your teeth fuzzy- and worst of all, the feeling that your mouth will never be the same. The Maha’ is one bitter bastard, and I’m still not sure I can hang.

So is Maha’ the ‘great king’ of IIPAs? Not for me. After having Pliny the Younger a few times earlier this year and a growler of Exponential Hoppiness just yesterday, there’s no way Maha’ is going to unseat one of them. I did actually enjoy it this time around, but I felt like I needed a nap by the time the bottle was gone. I’ll probably wait until next year’s batch comes out before I have another.

Score: 88 points

After making our pilgrimage to wi…, er, beer country back in February for my wife’s birthday, we’d been anxious to try Apex IPA again. Among other non-bottled offerings that we enjoyed at Bear Republic, Apex was definitely a standout for both of us (although the Chardonnay Hop Rod Rye was my favorite), but were we just caught up in the moment, wandering euphorically at half-mast just at the thought of finally getting to the source of Racer 5? Well, maybe just a bit…

While many places on the web have Apex listed as a IIPA, the brewpub calls this just a single- check the picture at the top from their beer board. Clocking in at 7.8% abv, it’s a big single and probably most accurately described as a double Racer 5, or Racer’s big brother. In fact, it’s just like Racer 5 in many ways, but amplified. Having only had bar pours both times, I’m not quite sure what the head looks like (I imagine it’s great, fluffy and frothy-as all head should be), but it’s amber-orange in color with a dominantly floral sniffer on it. As the color and sniffer might suggest, it has a pretty heavy malt profile with some mild sweetness, but fortunately the bitterness kicks in to give it a nice hoppy finish. In all honesty, it was actually a little too balanced for my liking: the strong malt profile and the floral, pine resin hop presence were too complimentary, combining to form a very pleasant and palatable offering that was just too far down the spectrum towards an East Coast interpretation of the style. Perhaps it is the apex of well balanced IPAs, but I’m not big on balance when it comes to this style.

Don’t get me wrong, I did really enjoy this beer and would drink it again, but I think the ambiance and the occasion in Healdsburg made it taste a little better. After all, we were sitting at the bar at 11:30 am on my wife’s birthday- both of us with big shit-eating grins on our faces- listening to some big, grizzly bear- looking motherfucker tell us stories about nosediving into mountains of white powder the size of anthills down in the hippy-crack ghetto of Montezuma, Costa Rica back in the 1970’s. Do you blame me?

Official booze reviews score: 90 points (add 2 more points if you have the good fortune of trying it at the brewpub)

As soon as we saw the announcement for anniversary month at O’Brien’s pub from owner Tom Nickel, the scheming began.  How could we justify so many trips to the pub in one month? And while every week offered countless tasty options spread across multiple days, it was the Russian River Brewing Company TION night that had everyone salivating (and perhaps in a few cases, prematurely ejaculating), and happened to fall just a few days before JDavid’s birthday. Perfect! One of those few days a year now when going on a serious bender is actually somewhat acceptable- that is, of course, assuming you don’t end up in jail for pissing on the side of the cop car that stops in the middle of the road to fuck with you when you’re walking your drunk ass home.

Unless you’re a hopeless beer geek, you might be asking yourself, what the fuck is Tion night? If you’ve read a couple of our beer posts, you’ve probably realized that each of us would quickly sell our souls (not sure who’s buying though- maybe Dick Cheney?) for a fresh pint of Pliny the Younger (IIIPA), Pliny the Elder (IIPA) or Blind Pig (IPA), part of Russian River’s amazing arsenal of quintessential Pale style beers. The Tion beers are the other side of the spectrum at RR: Belgian-inspired beers that beer genius Vinnie Cilurzo seems to have perfected, all of which end in –tion. Pliny the Younger, along with 11 Tion beers on tap, made for the biggest clusterfuck that I have ever witnessed at O’Brien’s. Fortunately, Tom and his wife, Lindsey, and the rest of the crew at O’Brien’s did an excellent job of keeping the beer-thirsty crowd at bay, making for what has to be one of the best beer nights ever at O’Brien’s- or any beer establishment, for that matter.

This was just the first stop of an awesome birthday binge celebration that also included stops at Hamilton’s Tavern and the grand opening of Blind Lady Ale House, but instead of pretending as if I can give any semblance of a coherent recount of the night, I’ll send you over to SOB Steve, who managed to put together a fairly coherent recap of the evening (that is, except for the pseudonyms: JRhode is JDavid, JDavid is BJR, and jth is Jesse the Hutt).

Highlights from the evening included:
• Pliny the Younger, Consecration (aged in cab barrels), Beatification (a 100% spontaneously fermented beer aged in old, old wine barrels), and Supplication (aged in Pinot Noir barrels) at O’Brien’s
• Airdale Dark and Stormy Imperial Stout and Green Flash Le Freak on tap, and having the privilege of meeting the creator of Hamilton’s Jalapeno Beer Cheese Soup! (Thanks, Deb)
• Green Flash 30th Street Pale Ale and amazing Neapolitan style pizza at the Blind Lady Ale House- finally San Diego (the southern part that is) gets an establishment that knows how to do craft pizza and beer. The tap list is already outstanding at Blind Lady, but when Lee Chase gets the brewery side firing on all cylinders, this place could be hard to beat.
• JDavid looking at his crotch and saying, “no, not right now!” to the cop that asked if he was peeing, instead of pissing on his car, telling him to fuck off, and subsequently getting tossed in the drunk tank.
• My awesome, beer-loving wife hauling our drunken asses around, and not leaving me in the gutter.

Feliz Cumpleanos, JDavid!

The most recent batch of Alpine Beer Company’s Nelson IPA- what they call a golden rye IPA- is phenomenal. In my opinion, the best batch yet. The color of the beer is amazing: if someone handed me a pint and didn’t tell me what it was, by look alone I’d think someone just handed me a fizzy yellow beer, the type that tastes like someone took a bad lager and doubled its volume by adding water (the picture here doesn’t do it justice-go to Summer of Beer for a better look). Fortunately, in this case, looks are very misleading. It has a great fluffy head, a really nice fruity, pungent nose, and the magical 7% abv, but the taste of this beer is what sets it apart. There is some citrus, but it is the passion fruit and guava that makes Nelson supremely delicious, elevating it to the same pedestal that Pliny and Sculpin occupy. I’m not sure if this is just the work of the Nelson Sauvin hops sourced from New Zealand, but whatever the case, Nelson is the result of one seriously serendipitous fusion.

My only complaint about Nelson? It’s already gone! But, fear not: sounds like the good folks at ABC have enough ingredients for 7 more batches! I’ll be counting the days until I get the next email. And if you want some of the next batch, drop whatever you’re doing and get up to Alpine as soon as the batch is ready- it won’t last long.

Finally, some props are in order for ABC. There isn’t another brewery out there that produces the quality and quantity of beers in the IPA family that Alpine does. With O’Brien’s, Duet, Nelson, Pure Hoppiness, Bad Boy, and Exponential in their arsenal, Alpine is arguably the best producer of hop-centric ales in the world (rivaled only by Russian River).

Score: 100 points

I’ll be the first to admit it: I have an aversion to Belgian and Belgian-style beers. It’s just hard for me to enjoy any beer that has a pronounced yeasty-funkiness to it. I’m not quite sure why, but it probably has something to do with my first exposure to this style. I was 17 and running rampant in Europe, drinking as if I were an alcoholic who had busted out of lockdown on the 27th night of rehab. I was in Paris, drank 2 Chimay blue labels, followed them up with some pink-colored abomination of a bottled vodka cocktail, threw up twice at dinner, then proceeded to clamor my way up the Eiffel Tower. From what I can remember, when I wasn’t spinning, fighting back bouts of nausea and trying not spray a rain of vomit on the poor people below me, the view was quite impressive. Anyways, whatever the reason, I struggle with Belgian beers and it is only lately that I’ve been able to palate any without straining to fight back my gag reflex.

A couple days ago when I was at Stone to pick up some vintage IRS, I noticed Sawyer’s Triple sitting on the cooler shelf. Not being a fan of Belgians, I didn’t recognize the bottle from its previous release in 2003, or know anything about it. The price was right (and later I’d come to find that the cause is too), so I grabbed one.

I tried to set myself up to enjoy it. At 7.6% abv with a pleasant golden-orange appearance, it matched two of the characteristics I find appealing in IPAs. The nose, however, was a different story: I was a little put off by the funky/yeasty/banana aromas. I felt the gag coming on. This was not an IPA. Damn. I reluctantly- with expectations now at zero- took a sip. To my surprise, it was rather enjoyable. The funk was not overbearing, but nicely balanced with fruity tones and just enough hop presence. Would I want to drink a 22 by myself? No, but I did enjoy what I drank, something I can’t say about most Belgians I’ve tried before.

Score: 88 points + 5 more for the cause. By all accounts, Stone is doing things right and deserves all the praise that it receives.
Final score: 93 points

Whenever it may be, It’s a special time of the day: that climactic moment when you crack into your first beer- mouth watering, corpus cavernosa beginning to inflate- then fill your favorite glass and take your first drink of the day. Whether it’s 9:55 am (Abyss for breakfast?) or 6 pm. But there is nothing worse than going through this glorious ritual only to find that you’ve poured yourself a glass of poop: a spoiled or past-its-prime beer, now only a shell of its former self. Talk about fucking blue balls. A feeling probably much like the one Ronaldo felt when he realized his three beautiful call girls were actually men.

For an IPA aficionado, this is particularly relevant. The bright, crisp citrus (or tropical fruit, pine, floral, herbal, etc.) smell and taste are what make an IPA truly unique and thoroughly appealing. Unfortunately, with age these characteristics just fade into malty obscurity and general mediocrity (i.e. poop). This is why it is imperative that every IPA (and any beer, for that matter) carries an easily visible (and decodable) bottled-on date. Any brewery that isn’t doing all their bottling by hand should respect their beer- and the consumers of their beer- enough to put a fucking date on the god damn bottle.

In this thread we will keep a running list of the breweries that have taken this initiative, grade their effort, and supply the exact locations of the dates on the bottle. If you know the info for a brewery that we have not listed, feel free to leave the info (as well as your grade, if you choose) in the comments section and we will update the thread periodically, er, maybe sporadically.

• Bear Republic: At least on Racer 5 bottles, the bottled on date is on the upper right-hand corner of the label, next to (or on) the bar code. Grade: B-. When printed properly (i.e. not on the bar code) the date is easy to read, but when the date falls on the bar code, good luck.

• Russian River Brewing: On Pliny and Pig bottles, the bottled on date is in its own little box on the lower left-hand side of the label (right next to the abv). Grade: A+. As is often the case, Russian River is spot-on. Not only is the date easy to read, but the border of the label is also filled with wonderful propaganda urging its consumer to drink fresh/not age.

• Stone Brewing: A best-by date appears at the bottom of the bottle. Grade: C-. Just barely making the grade, as the date is often very hard to read. A nice effort, but needs improvement.

Firestone Walker: On Union Jack IPA bottles a bottled on date appears at the bottom of the shoulder of the bottle, printed directly on the glass.  This is a new development.  Not easy to find if you do not know whwat you are looking for.  Grade: B

For quite some time I’ve been hesitant to try any IPA that isn’t made in California. It’s not that I’m inherently Cali-centric, I’ve just never had an IPA brewed outside of The Golden State that I’ve really, really enjoyed. However, when I stumbled across Punk IPA at my local liquor store, Palm Springs (no, not the arid, geriatric inferno to the east of Mt. San Jacinto), I was feeling adventurous and the thought of a ‘Punk’ IPA sparked a wave of nostalgia carrying me back to the old days of sweaty, smoky anarchy at Soma Live. I should have known better. Like many of the “punk” boy bands to play at Soma, this IPA has little substance to accompany an aggressive façade. This beer is no Bad Religion. And while I typically won’t review a beer that I’m not particularly fond of, the proclamation of “We don’t care if you don’t like it” on the bottle pushed me forward, much like the dumb fuckin’ skinheads used to do at Soma.

So about that beer…

Splitting the bomber between two double-walled glasses for my wife and I, the beer poured a very light, golden straw-color with an almost non-existent head. In addition to scarce lacing, it also seemed to be lacking in carbonation. I’m usually leery of IPAs that don’t register an abv above 6.5%, but Blind Pig has had me reconsidering this lately. Coming in at 6%, this was no Blind Pig. Not only was there not much bitterness, but it just seemed to have an overall flat flavor profile. While the website claims that “the light fruity aroma dominates the initial confrontation,” I didn’t get any of this on the nose. And the claim that “lychee, kiwi and passionfruit all prevail with subtle nuances of cherry and strawberry,” is also lost on me. Perhaps I just picked up a bad bottle, but the “07/07/09” best by date on the bottle leads me to believe that it should be relatively fresh. There is also the possibility that my trusty liquor store, the home of robberies and car-jackings-with-hammers, didn’t properly store the beer. The friendly, non-beer-guy cashier did freely admit that the couple of cases they had had “sat in the back for a couple weeks until they found space for them,” but unless I can find a bottle for less than the 9 bucks I shelled out for this one, I won’t be giving it a second chance. I should also admit that I drank it following a West Coast IPA, a beer that has me questioning my former allegiances.

Score: I’ll start with a generous 80 points (allowing for the possibility that I had a bad bottle and the fact that it followed the WCIPA), but subtract 10 points for the price (I could have bought a Sculpin!).

Final score: 70 points.