Alright, let’s see if this micro with macro parents can run with the big dogs in today’s review of Peche. American wilds might be the hardest fucking category to classify one’s beer in. When you adjust the ratings for style you basically have to crush it out of the park to even turn someone’s head. This beer won some GABF awards, but let’s see if it really puts the tires to the pavement or if that power is all lost at the barrel aged flywheel in today’s review
AC Golden Brewing Company
Colorado, United States
American Wild Ale | ABV ?
A: This beer comes out disinterested as fuck and just kinda lays there like a discount escort, but for $80 off of craigslist, were you expecting some kind of Fantome excitement? The lacing is non-existent but for the style, this isn’t exactly the foamy soapy pillow fight that people anticipate. The SRM looks good and juicy, there’s a brassiness to the middle with light yellow radiance to the edges like illuminated holofoil rares. Venom vs Spiderman Marvel Masterpiece level.
S: This has an incredible nose to it and reminds me a lot of Cascade Apricot in the high acidity and fruit that is just getting manhandled by the lactic aspects. It is difficult to ascribe depth and cheesiness to this because the musk is almost non-existent and a boost of some Brett C would have been a nice inclusion, but maybe I am asking for too much. This is certainly a pocket knife and not a Swiss army knife. It has utility and executes well for a single purpose but doesn’t present a crazy panoply of aromatics. Sometimes you can pop in Twisted Metal and appreciate the simplicity of pure destruction.
T: This is incredibly sour and delivers on the tannic peach front and has a drying finish that just assaults the gumline relentlessly. The brett that was missing on the nose shows up and peeks its head at the finish and sheepishly carries the books of the popular kids, in this case the peach and acidic profile. Similar to the nose, you get that Cascade sort of one trick pony that makes this good but fails to mystify on deeper levels of musk and funk. If Michael Bay made an American wild, it would be this spectacle that tears shit up but leaves you ultimately aware that you came to the movies alone.
M: This is incredibly dry and save for a few fleeting moments of juicy peach in the middle, this is your dentists worst nightmare. Unless you have PPO insurance, don’t pound this on the reg because that acidity will catch up with you and you will get the old “Lambic Gurgles” when your insides get turned out harder than a Plan B overdose. It is incredibly acidic and the peach serves as a trojan horse to leave the charge to your lower intestine where the magic happens. Deuce crew for sheeze.
D: This is incredibly drinkable and the ABV is non-existent. Aside from the sheer pain of drinking a highly acidic potation, this has utility amongst those of the XX chromosomal order because, dem peaches. This would be good to have on hand for those times when you don’t want to go balls out on fruited lambics, but lightly acidic beers dont seem to be hitting your lactic spot. Fans of Grand Funk Ale Road and Upland Lambics will appreciate the direct approach of this sour, Fantome ghost hunters will long for a bit more complexity. At the end of the day, everyone gets a reluctant hand job.
Narrative: Chelsea Rosacaea was an offputting tart little beauty of 20 years. She was brash, acrimonious and honest to a fault. Her parents always warned her that being too forward and harsh was a bit intimidating for young suitors, but she cared little for pageantry and grace. On one date, she went to a Sonic Burger and began to prostrate at length about the sorry state of the Chevy Cruze that her male counterpart had picked her up in and gave a full dress down to the Coney Dogs section of the menu. “I mean really, I wore a dry clean only dress for this? When am I supposed to be impressed? At the crest of the banana split in a plastic tub? This courtship might fly in South Carolina, but I feel like an enterprise such as this hardly warrants some titty groping,” she demurred to the poor young man who had no idea that with the sweetest of peaches comes the largest of pits. She was a bit harsh, but refreshing in her simplicity, like so many .ROM files lost on hard drives along the way.