Wow the first bottle out the gates from these guys and it is already admittedly stellar. Grapes can be a tough ingredient to massage on a wild ale base, and goldens in particular can do sloppy tannic things or go apeshit acidic. Black Project holds the reigns on this complex jammy treat admirably and first crushes some preserves out of this destemmed banger. My@biggedt fear in these offerings is overextraction and that’s not present at all here, the coin lands almost Framboise side up: It isn’t overly vinous on the olfactory and instead leads with a raspberry meets blackberry sort of residual sweetness. There’s a slight sharpness but nothing bearing red wine vinegar or Korean nail salon levels, more like cranberry juice. The taste is very dry and almost hits the bicuspids a touch too hard but whips back on the throttle and lends a saving arm of berry purée as the car falls off the cliff. Michael Bay acidity with a James Gunn resolution. Swallow is long and acidic with a warming French oak quality that dances with the Smuckers factory playing in the mid palate. This is as good as the grape fruit stands from Casey but still lacks a touch of Brett B/L depth found in the Cfp series to get to the top podium.
Still a shockingly well done and graceful fruity sipper. If I had to guess grapes this feels decidedly more Tempranillo but I could easily divorcees sipping this at a gender reveal party, or that “me time” weekend in Palm Springs. Janet from accounts receivable will drill the shit out of this and drive home peeling the fuck out in a Chrysler Pacifica, burgundy tongued, child seats be damned, Travis has them this weekend. Dry July starts soon and this season of the Bachelorette just isn’t scratching that Burgundy itch.
14 hour brew days BREWED THE HARD WAY
It would be just like Colorado to silently turn out god tier sour beers and just pull the old Casey silent treatment and drink them without hype, selfish high altitude assholes.
This beer is completely bonkers, unlike anything I’ve ever had. At its core it is a faintly resinous IPA with a [turbid/oat/London ale III?] so all is well, then shit goes completely NOS tank overboost. Do you know what an Apexi boost controller is? What about a bored out waste gate? This is a triple aluminum wing on a front wheel drive IPA.
If you have ever had that white stick Fun-Dip candy with the orange dust, this is that in beer form. It is weird orange sherbert, oily flintstones push up pops, creamy 50/50 bar mixed with like a multivitamin but it is really tasty. I thought this would be way too batshit, but instead we get this potpourri Astro pop of crazy vape pen resin. It’s not an IPA it’s not a wild ale it’s like oily nugs coated in pixie sticks. You haven’t had anything like this and it’s off the wall like an MJ album.
Lmk if anyone wants to talk about my extensive Silkk the Shocker album collection.
Three Weavers continues to excel in the realm of delicate nuanced bangers, and their saison Ripple is a textbook example of what they are about. Duck down duvet with haunted house lacing, an ectomorphic body that has lean lemon bubblegum underpinnings. This stumbles into an ultra dry pale ale realm with tons of dry hopping that lends a realm of alpha acidity and conifer oiliness, my cones are dripping. If you served this at some dingy halogen lit homebrew club tasting along side 23 other beers in a filthy taster glass, it might not give you pause. No one trades for Avril or tries to hype up De Ranke XX, when was the last time you saw some Floridian shitlord try to raffle off their local Grisette? It is a beverage the gilds interaction without shellacking it. Threeweavers has a deft handle on this realm.
Such an odd merger of my passions.