God damn talk about getting serious depth out of that Brett L and Brett B intersection, this beer is like the crossing guard of that thoroughfare. Imagine squirt, with a lightly oxidized papery musk like wet break dancer cardboard and tropical notes that make starburst seem restrained in execution. It has a relatively still carb that crackles with life like pineapple pop rocks on the gum line.

Is this the most complex crooked stave offering to date? Perhaps not but god damn is it refreshing and endlessly drinkable. You would be doing yourself a disservice of you didn’t push your tip in this wanting stone fruit bunghole.

Put that fruit up in my mouth.

Yes I get this isn’t fruited. FUCK.