Impasse. The bottle was gushing, the review was not. A standard albeit forgettable saison from Crux.

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With so many American breweries stepping into the farmhouse game, there are bound to be some that exist solely to pad out the ranks, digging the entrenched standards between bad and excellent. This is one such saison doughboy ducking German howitzer shells and merely ekeing out a modest existence.

It is bad no means bad, the nose is grassy, rye bread, floral and lemon pepper. It just feels phoned in, like if a furtive alien brewer wanted to fit in with humans would brew to not raise suspicion to their extraterrestrial existence

It swallows clean and dry, hoppy with an herbal presence that becomes off putting after 8 ounces. You can’t fault it nor really praise it, it clocks in at 9 and leaves promptly at 5. With logsdon sitting squarely as a PnW competitor at the same price point, it is tough to really go to bar for this cruxy offering.

It’s fine, I GUESS.

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