Packed with Peaches sounded so promising on paper, and then pitted itself into a vellus hair monstrosity. Other Wiley Roots offerings have vacillated between being anomalously amazing, or oddly missing the mark. For example, Geometry seemed so simple and executed with a depth and complexity that let the cultures sing in conjunction with the gewurztraminer skins. Packed with Peaches is discordant throughout and never checks the boxes of god tier stonefruit wilds. At the inception, my pithshit alarm was blaring when I watched the carb immediately dissapate like so many De Garde sucrose krausened Bu’s where you fear what the undercurrent holds if there is zero sustain in seconds. No sheeting, no residual body, just a tepid tangerine lake of acid. The nose is actually very well done. You get this Chobani meets orange marmalade, Haribo Peach Rings and a smattering of Jolly Rancher. It is the mouthfeel that really derails this harvest experience. Casey has had issues with some of theit stonefruit beers like when CFP Nectarine just drills up in your mouth no novocain. This is much in the same vein of being too aggressive, sheets of acetic dryness that assaults the bicupids, with no fruit or creamy residual body to offset the acidity. I let it warm to see if a some 60 degree massaging could balance it out and you get more of the fibrous fruit structure but the acidity also ramps up pro-rata so you can’t escape its destructive maw. One would think with 600 lbs of peaches in the batch, it would either be too smuckery and JOOSE-y in a preserves way, but instead the lacto/pedio just went full acetone and stripped this thing like a late 90’s Civic in a bad neighborhood. I honestly believe that the table beer version of this is likely much better and honestly plays to Wiley Root’s strong suits because this one was a total miss for me. Peach DPS is too aggro for my tank tum tum.