How fast the petulant seasons shift from radiant summer to the scrotum-tightening chill of winter. It feels like just yesterday that the Old Oude was out, the b1 masses heralding the second coming of the prophet Unblended 40. 

This beer defies conventional beer “wisdom” and is almost identical in scope and execution to batch 1 Oude du Ble. It is old hat to decry against the “new” batches and distance yourself from the present by emphasizing the quality of the past, like some AARP card gripping geriatric railing on about orange groves. Citrus orchards indeed, this beer delivers the same candidate promises as its predecessor: kumquat, tangerine, grapefruit pith, the fleshy interior of jazz apples spilling bountifully from this musty gourd.
The mouthfeel is dry but more substantial than those Dickensian white label offerings what with their simple lemon tones, hat in hand darkening the saison doorway. The acidity is refined and never overbearing, but a splash of some old world wallonian grist would balance things out a touch. Oddly the second pour is more turbid with a bit of sediment and gave it a belini coffeemate punch that rounded out the mouthfeel. And like a 3D printer operated by a farmer with scatalogical fetish: that is when shit became real in the field.

Compare the first and second pour, the difference is subtle but the messier aspects pang of heavy tome loads in your chest hair. 

Overall this is a fantastic offering that comes scarily close to the absolute pinnacle of Art and its progeny. In terms of the god tier saison realm, this is the best dollar to weight “bargain” in that realm. Diminishing returns enveloping like foreskin in an outdoor shower.

Gitchusum.