Chaotic Insecure Nucleations, another beer from second shift that I expected to be some excoriating vial of radioactive spiders actually presents a thin, lemony fabric pull from the Logsdon loom. The back end has this Brett B bittering Brie rind funkiness which chain combos into the next sip because the front swallow is all jazz apple and muscat grape must. It isn’t terribly complex, but it feels like the Nissan Murano of the farmhouse world, just an old dependable to get you from A to B without people clowning the shit out of you at a tasting. If you didn’t tell me I would swear there was some white grape 🍇 interplay here because the Brett profile is so dry that is drags long along the gumline crackling a Welch’s juicy juice along the mandible. Some heft to the viscosity would make this most drinkable and add depth to the middle body which is kinda like a forgettable Barefoot Riesling. But the rest of it bangs like a Rockford Fosgate bandpass box.

I’m doing my best ok