You might recognize Saison Du Ble as the beer that rapacious shitlords were attempting to flip minutes after release, just after going through the line as many times as possible with all the mules available. That’s the one. God forbid people in St. Louis actually drink some of these world class bangers.
Pulling Nails b3 was another release that anomalously hit the boards flooded with FTs, seemingly before anyone even tried this beer. It is a shame because both of these “accessible” Side Project beers are incredible and don’t deserve to be liquidated into some Blue Chips retirement saison account bullshit. I guess coming to this website and having DDB tell you to drink beer is a bit misleading, so let’s dive in and figure out why you shouldn’t drink these two:
Blended “saison” 6% abv
“Blend of: Oude du Ble that was aged in French Oak for 1 year & then aged on Apricots + 14-Month-Old Foedre Beer + 2-year-old Missouri Spontaneous Blonde.”
These pulling nails blends are constantly separating themselves from the intensely sour underpinning of the AWA realm and reaching longingly to the musky funk of the Belgian traincar chugging away from the platform. This is best of the three released thus far and almost strikes me as a type of off-brand Duck Duck Gooze in several ways. That is to say, it is phenomenal in both intensity and complexity.
I predict that the 2014 Cicerone contingency will complain that they want their saisons more sourerer and that wild ales are exceptional when made more sour: the classic touchstone of brewing ability. Sadly this beer caters to people who know what the fuck they are talking about. The nose reminds me of cave aged cheddar, some kumquat skins, a wheaty grist waft like if you french pressed La Moneuse with tangerines. It lingers with a wet canvas smell that is awesome to offset some of the stone fruit acidity. The fact that Side Project was able to do this without pandering to some adjunct fruited E-brake is telling of their program developing something that was lacking at the outset: subtlety and nuance.
The taste presents a more acrimonious presence than the nose but still pushes a refreshing oakiness, a sort of french oak sickle dances along the bicuspids and produces that maxiosalivary reaction dropping residual orange juice tastes along the base of the molars. It never goes overboard, but never feels watery or insubstanial either. This would be too acidic if the yeast profile didn’t reach into the water and save it from drowning in its own discharge. The creamy grist closes out the acidity like bookends, tart granny smith stacked on a piece of gruyere rind, that type of canapes shit.
Less adept brewers would hit the fruit and acidity profile and call it a day, not big a fuck about depth or drinkability. If the consumer base can’t handle the rough acrid profile JUST RAFFLE BOTTLES AND ULTRA RARE NO ONE WILL DRINK THEM ALONE. It is an off accolade to praise a brewery for “relaxing” and emphasizing component blending over monoculture massaging, but that is what is going on here. No, this isn’t on par with the Floras of the world, but it empties a full clip at the momma cribs of most other wild ales in the game at present.
WAIT I WAS PROMISED A SAISON DU BLE REVIEW WATDEFEX?
“Saison du Blé is our Chardonnay barrel-aged Wheat Saison. Batch 1 was fermented in stainless and then aged in oak for 3 months with our rustic house blend.”
I love the fact that the “easiest” beer to land in the Side Project catalog exhibits some of the finest that the brewery has to offer. It is a cosmic justice for all the assholes who traded away the Grisette and the Biere du Pays as though bottle limits dictated their inherent value. Then again, these are the same St. Louis beer sommememliers who pass up Vapeur and Darbyste and obsess over new De Garde shit to boost their farmhouse C.V.
So while this might not be the most complex offering from these boys, it is easily the most overall enjoyable in crushability, drinkability, refreshing solosessions, The wheat grist coats and makes a frothy lil treat, those peppery lemongrass esters hit the bitter and sweet zones like decadent alcoholic Gatorade. The closer isn’t dry or offputting, it has a tangelo skin zest that lingers like tropical life savers, that weird pale cum colored one,
If you aren’t trying to stunt hard amongst 200 other maladjusted manchildren at Zwanze Day, trade for this and drink it alone while watching Mr. Robot. Fuck this culture of unchecked avarice. You do you boo boo.