The sixth and final beer from Mama Deltoid’s Christmas beer gift set that I shall review has actually been a favorite of mine for several years, and was on my radar for a BaDoink review since the day I began gracing this glorious website with my beer blather. Tripel Karmeliet is delicious, addictive, and quite possibly the most beautiful beer ever beheld by the rods and cones behind the pupils of my green and brown eyeballs.
The brew’s name defines it in two ways. First: it is a Belgian “tripel”, which means it contains approximately 3 times the malt as the standard Belgian Trappist ale, is golden in color, and contains a moderate to high ABV. Second: it contains 3 grains for its malt: barley, oats, and wheat. And according to Bosteels, it is made to specification of a beer recipe from 1679.
The aroma and flavor profiles are standard for a tripel, but they are brewed to perfection. It smells of grains, thyme, citrus, alcohol, and a slight sour funk. The liquid is a hazy, glowing, deep rich gold. Its head is lively, bright white, and fluffy. A flirtatious plume of CO2 bubbles flows continuously from the bottom center of the tulip glass. The beer is alive, I tell you. And it wants to make love to my innards. I comply with its seductive demands. The taste begins with a ripe citrus blend and a tiny pinch of sourness. It finishes with a warming flavor of malt, ester, phenol, and grapes. The aftertaste, like me, comes quickly: ripe plantains, Granny Smith apples, butter, and hops.
The texture is unique here: it hits hard just a fraction of a second before the flavor does. The CO2 content is very high, and a prickly, foamy, yet soft texture will be the very first thing you notice when you begin tongue-fornicating this brew. The lacing is negligible here. Have I stated lately that lacing is not an indication of a good beer? Just in case I haven’t, lacing is like a pre-blowjob teabag: it’s occasionally neat but it is only noteworthy as an aesthetic garnish to the objective.
Tripel Karmeliet and I have an interesting history together. It was introduced to me by a friend and colleague named Matthew. Matthew is British, but cannot speak with a British accent. Granted he moved to the US when he was around 7 years old so I don’t expect him to sound like Prince Charles, but the fact that he can’t even impersonate a Briton is fucking weird to me. But I digress. Ironically, while Matthew brought me my first bottle of Tripel Karmeliet, which is one of my favorite brews, he also was the culprit who introduced me to Dog Bite High Gravity Lager, which was by far the most foul and offensive beverage I have ever tasted. That can of monkey piss gave me a headache that made me want to slice off Matthew’s face with a potato peeler and slam a lemon merengue pie against his screaming, bloody skull. But I am willing to forgive him for that as an accompaniment to his bringing Tripel Karmeliet into my life.
Also, Tripel Karmeliet has been my ultimate wing-man beverage. Each and every time I brought it on a BYOB date with a female, the night ended in filthy sex. So ladies, if you see me headed your way with a bottle of Tripel Karmeliet, I hope your jaws and thighs are adequately stretched and loosened, or else you’ll be walking like a cowboy and talking like Larry Flynt in the morning.
IBU: 20 (my best guess)