Monday, October 31, 2011

Now This Is How You Review a Beer...

Recently, our photographer, Joe Reiter, had the distinct pleasure of trying our Falcor White and our brand new Cake Eater (never officially offered to the public). Joe, best known for being the lead singer of the popular Los Angeles cover band, 88mph, is also known for his impressive palette. We receive a lot of positive reviews for our beer but this is one we just had to post.....


"I will begin by saying this: there are (almost) no words to describe Cake Eater. Below, find my impressions in gay-ish beer review format.

Cake Eater, by the Neverending Beer Factory

What can I say? I’m lost, now. If this was the only bottle of this stuff ever brewed, it would be one too many – man should not have glimpsed this beer, for it will forever be an obsession. This is the Prometheus of beers. Coffee, brown sugar? My brain screams “Caramel malts!” but that’s not enough to explain what’s going on here. How can this much complexity fit into a 12 ounce bottle? Black ales will run and hide when a bottle of Cake Eater enters the room; smoky, syrupy but not cloying – this is a
porter, indeed, of titanic proportions. Plaid flannel shirt, leather boots and a big-ass axe kind of porter. Black as night, it sucks all the light from the room. But swirl it in the glass, and light shining through the legs has the color of molasses, and for the briefest moment as the glass empties there’s a hint of a rainbow comprising all the hues of brown running across the bottom. Infra-brown. Modest gravity, mild (15-25 IBU) perhaps 8% ABV?

(aside: Good fricking shit, man, NBF has
got to sell this beer. I told the wife the story of Cake Eater (and the culinary intent in brewing it); she took her first sip as I finished the words, “...chocolate cake,” and she looked up at me with a “Holy crap, it’s cake!” look on her face. I had to sit down after drinking it. And now the bottle is empty. I am a cursed man. With a second bottle I could write a proper review...)
Falcor White, by the Neverending Beer Factory

Let’s face it, there is nothing about serious drinking that makes it okay to order a Hoegaarden anymore. And although it’s fine if your friend wants to pick up a sixer of Blue Moon at the Albertson’s, you’ll obviously have to stop hanging out with him immediately afterward. Amidst the many traditional approaches to hefeweizen brewing, one would expect certain flavors (coriander, orange, etc.) to be an inescapable component of the flavor of these types of brew. That’s why Falcor White is a punch in the face. In a good way. The label speaks of mugwort and wormwood (holy crap, don’t they make absinthe from that?), but that’s only the beginning. Just before the sip, there’s a hint of volatiles in the nose that speaks heavily of the wheat and barley that brought this beer to life; naturally, a whiff of aldehyde, so deliciously teetering on the razor’s edge of sourness, reminds us of the yeast that still converts sugars even as we drink it. This beer is a magical spell, that somehow reads the mind of the drinker: sip it quickly, and the back of the throat tells the story of bitter spices with a citrus note; savor it slowly, lying on the tongue, and there’s a richness to it that belies its light body and easy drinkability. That middle note, warmed by the mouth and lifted against the palate, makes it seem malty, almost
bock-y in its layered complexity. What the $#@! are these guys doing with this recipe? You can ask them, but I don’t think they’re telling.

(aside: To begin with, I am unspeakably grateful that the world wavefunction collapsed in such a way that I was able to sample this brew at room temperature before finally enjoying it properly chilled. Okay, my friend, this is a clear winner. I think it should be entered into a festival or discussed with the proprietor of Lucky Baldwin’s for contention in their annual Belgian Beer Fest. No, I’m not kidding; bring him a tallboy and wear your best smile. And I wasn’t just yanking myself about that bocky comment – this could go all the way in that direction and come out shining. Could be interesting. And the wife is now convinced you make real beer, so that’s a hell of a thing. We’re two bottles deep on the Falcor sixer and that’s a dangerous thing. We had a “Cake sandwich”, with Falcor on both sides. If you think that didn’t do something good for the perception of that second bottle, you’re $#@!ing wrong. The Falcor review came spilling out at that point. Hmm; there could be something there – definitely gotta throw Cake Eater into the 5-glass flights you offer when you do brewery tastings.)


j."

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