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.