I want you to look into the depths of this acrimonious bastard and see yourself. In the pools of darkness as black as the devil’s dick swirls a complex dark sour the likes of which you probably have never rubbed on your nips: The Shadows of Their Eyes. Before you adjust your ticking goggles, that noun phrase isn’t a Tired Hands release, this is another sour banger from those petulant BART riders at The Rare Barrel.

The appearance is like an angrier Oud Bruin and presents a deep hateful blackness with wispy mocha and burgundy when held up to the light. The carbonation absconds gently and leaves a crackly collar of carb swirling kicking up the acidity below.

The nose is all black cherry , granny apple acidity, red jolly rancher, light merlot tannic presence and a Sonoma Cabernet dryness. The acidity is apparent and is a call back to B1 Tart of darkness, but I promised this wouldn’t be a Bruery retrospective. Again it feels like a petite Flanders oud bruin, were such a style to exist.

The taste carries a cranberry and sour cherry mix and a touch of caramel and oak with it, washing clean along the gum line and not presenting excessive sour notes but lacking a Brett or monoculture note to punch in beyond the Rodenbach meets Rosso e Marron hybrid.

This is intensely drinkable at 5.8% abv and can only really be faulted for its lack of fucks for classification. Is it closer to the Flanders red but with chocolate malts? Is it a straight wild ale with a dark base? It is hard to really gerrymander this into a distinct association because it seems to defy labels. Mix Wanderer with tart of darkness I guess, or trade for this, or go titty fuck your cousin, it won’t affect my life.

But this is a tasty romp into unexplored territory, start clacking those red bottoms together to save up scrill to join ANOTHER BEER SOCIETY YOUR WIFE WILL HATE.

I am not here to tell you how to spend your money.