Ah I miss the trackball on that old blackberry. I actually used one of those janky phones to take the first DDB pics, so perhaps these berries hold a special place in my heart. The blackberry triple crown cut was already so damn good and part of me is inclined to think that this is even better. The acidity is more refined, there’s more of a residual body and creamy oikos yogurt swallow to it. Hurhurhur euphemisms abound.
It’s an unquestionably beautiful beer and doesn’t fall into the trappings of that Tillamook sucrose crackle wherein the retention wisps away like capricious pop rocks. These CFP and Cut offerings almost suffer from a branding problem in that they are all so exceptional that the similar labels creates a type of consumer fatigue. If only these had some elegant rococo sobriquet for every different fruit, they could harness the power of StL hype more effectively. Suffice it to say, Casey continues to make other fruited wilds seem less and less relevant and Colorado, in typical fashion, continues to drink them surreptitiously and not let word of same cross those rocky borders. It’s like in Atlas Shrugged where they make the secret mountain haven for the productive, except John Galt is blending barrels and everyone isn’t a selfish asshole.
The apricot is more focused but far less delicate. For those of you who have a palate like a Lotus Exige, this is balls to the wall tannins acidity and radiant pithy fruit. It never oversteps the boundaries and maintains a type of feisty e-brake J turns in the tart meets sweet slalom. Think of this as a Shasta Foune, bootleg Chinatown Dvd fou with apricot subtitles and shaky cam. It’s damn near as good, but lacking the Brett c interplay of the cheesiness.