Here’s the link:
This is an open letter to shitty 2013 tickers who want a lactic wild ale from every saison: finger your cock and leave the hobby.
I can’t reconcile the ratings with how unique and delicious this beer is. The nose is like a pier one imports that two co workers just had dry sex in : salty, cardamom, jasmine, a floral sea salt and lemon Yankee Doodle candle. It smells amazing like an erotic water park adventure and sublimates into a banana and clove more in line with traditional fantome offerings.
The taste has a orange Julius creamy profile that finishes dry with a touch of early grey. It is wildly earthy and presents a composting wet leaf synergy with truffle/soil that adds a complexity unfound in most modest saison offerings.
This is akin to The HF and Blaugies collab and serves as a bridge between old and new farmhouse culture.
Alright, recently I was hoping to god for a Side Project offering to kick me in the cock and take some coal out of the hype train: and here it is.
Every offering recently has been a riff on their Missouri [insert topical Ferguson reference] wild culture. This isn’t bad per se, in fact it is a well CRAFTED beer that just fails to deliver for me. Others loved it but that acidity from the cherries is a deal breaker for me and the chocolate malt just looks on whole I get the shit beat out of me behind the lockers.
The massive oud bruin aspect takes a acetic aspect that everyone shits all over the Bruery and HotD for embracing. This is a more polished tart of darkness and still works, but not to the capacity that the other recent SP pedigree has established. I would like to see the cherry dialed in without the massive roast and chocolate, it’s like cherry cordials dipped in barefoot merlot.
Again, some people loveeeee this, but this goes beyond the “don’t trade for it” into the “not worth itttt” realm especially when coupled with the steep ass cost of entry. I gave up an Armand and tomme+ for this and the average landlocked dumb shit would convince me I got a massive deal.
Trade for this and get boxtrolled
It is tiresome just deep throating all of Cory King’s recent offerings and wish he would drop another adjunct stout to bring my impartial credibility back but, here we are.
How is this different from regular ass/ highest rated saison in the world/ baller as fuck Fermier? The short answer is, both are exceptional, one has a more authentic depth and musky complexity and the other is an exceptional lactic banger.
This has a wonderful musk to it like yellow gushers rolled in solara bread crumbs, a leathery funk that platforms a wonderful lemon and grapefruit aspect that toes the line closer to vigneronne than any Vapeur musk, it is decidedly more lambic than traditional Belgian saison in dismount.
The real show here is the god. Damn. Mouthfeel. Holy shit. This is exceedingly light and crushable with a creamy lemon peel and peppercorn that closes dry with a Chardonnay and oaky vanilla swallow. Heavy loads.
All I am doing to adding fuel to these Midwest assholes and their rapacious trade requests. Love this beer but fuck them. Always.
Answer me this: how in the fuck does not have adjuncts in it? This is a testament to monoculture massaging and shines in a miraculous way. The waft is as bright as Zomer and radiates hard like the sun trapped in a 375. The beer looks like Bruscella with a copper and brass translucence that shines like greased up banisters.
The nose is Brett L overload and takes your face holes on a tropical vacation with limitless guava, mango, pineapple, and them light srm hard candies busting with juice. The musk is like fresh cut cardboard and construction paper dipped In tangerine juice.
The taste of this complex pineapple load slides down your throat acidic, hefty, and a dry honey comb sweetness that lingers. This adds a depth to the proud fermier and fuzzy ph3 HJs that hurt but feel good. It is unbalanced like a suicide girl with two different sized breasts you can’t help but falling in love with.
The closing swallow as it warms is not unlike a graceful Chardonnay cut with orange otter pops. Bretty tongue in your outgoing lane.
I don’t need to understand it, to love it.
If vsb is a pulp fiction masterpiece, consider this to be a…Jackie Brown endeavor. The nose is straight peaches cobbler and apricot Danish. Sweet and bready, Carmelized sugar, and orange life savers. I get a touch of a cinnamon aspect when it warms and nothing screams acidity from the roof tops, let alone VERY wild Sour, or whatever.
The taste has a light acidity that is in line with what many would consider "faint" in an American saison, lightly lactic profile that takes a back seat to the decadent fruit profile. Vsb is unquestionably better across the board, there is something to be said about this peach home run pie. This is sweet like pie filling but a nice caramel and vanilla aspect to the juice adding a layer of complexity. I can't really think of an analogue that would serve this market.
It's not exceptionally sour. It isn't excessively wild, but it is bogglingly peach to a Funky Buddha degree yet doesn't toe the line of that cloying Short's profile.
Get that peach produce upside your head.