This particular gose falls inside the realm of lightly brackish, intensely crushable, Powerade meets cantaloupe with an estery pickle juice profile that works if only because the experience is swift and complete before you can reflect upon it: like a song by The Locusts.
My greatest fear is if the Lake Havasu sneakerfuck contingency decides to explore other craft beer after Jayden and my buddy crushed like thirty racks of these salt beers on his stepdads boat shit was so cash, take me back amirite, salt beer is so good slaying life RN.
That type of shit. I can deal with maladjusted bandos declaring supremacy in a niche hobby, but vapid tank top dudes with nonironic hubris would be too much to handle.
Anderson Valley Briney melon is a bright and intensely consumable if not one dimensional experience that almost has an inherent fireside chat rider clause built into the cans.