Arizona doesn’t deal in whales. Orange skinned undergrads and transplanted sod, sure they have that in spades. Hyped beer? It’s less common than concealed carry permits in that desert culture. Double Vanilla Kingsnake is perhaps the most cetacean juice that exists from those daylight savings deniers. But does it have the quality to buttress its secondary values? Like the delivery cargo to a Scottsdale retirement home: it’s all Depends.
The beer is exceptional, but it’s exceptional in a way that will draw in the same wafflecone instarone who would resell this beer in the first place. It’s all bean bisecting. Rye Kingsnake is more balanced and Grand Cru has far more depth, but the Coldstone Cunnilingus enthusiasts are the worst with money: this is the “best.” The vanilla is so singular in scope and execution it dominates the spirit profile, but to some this is the end goal. It has macaroon and oreo McFlurry with a whisper of Barrel presence. The sheeting and heft falls somewhere close to light Muscle Milk.
Arizonans travel far as hell for their beer. These people are the Mongolian raiders of coveted sugar water. These steppe people will ride equestrian across vast wastelands in Hyundais to colorado, vegas, San Diego: all in search of wares and sustenance. The swift irony is that Wren dark sky and Super are better than most analogues without the foreign pillaging.
Double vanilla enters a realm akin to Modern Times Ultra vanilla where it’s so focused in its purpose that it almost lampoons the consumer base that wants this by hitting the mark so thoroughly that you question capitalism itself. The Madagascar spoils of innovation. It’s good but it is difficult to judge it globally because you get a sense that Wren House brewed this with a knowing nod. Fast Five was so excessive that it created an entire new standard for summer Blockbusters, but no one is arguing that it needs to be on the AFI top 100.
Wren is demonstrating their capacity to deliver on excess, and they did so beautifully. It’s a performance piece for dudes in lines in the crisp desert cold. The excoriating heat is but a few months away and the haze shall flow endlessly once more.