Revolution Brewing BlackBerry Finn, their best fruited strong ale to date

I swear it’s not dgm

Verdaccio is this Renissance painting technique where you apply so many thin layers that the end result is crazy complex and lifelike. This beer is a series of malt fruit layers applied endlessly.

In general, I think that “less is more” the higher the abv travels. You are granted a larger malt stage for greater expression and you can suss out nuanced flavors. An old ale doesn’t NEED peaches or oreos.


Sometimes more is just, more. When Revolution digs into the produce bin the results can be polarizing. On one hand, I often wonder what the bone dry barleywine and rye ales taste like before being fruited. Code Switch was strange but it was jammy and as thin as a wild ale. That is bonkers. Strawberry jacket and the fruited Deths were just inferior to the base beer, but more ambitious.

Then we get Blackberry Finn.

This is the best fruit beer Revolution has ever done. It maintains the underlying Saharan dry structure of a barleywine and almost “fixes” the emaciated malty ribcage with a winter coat of jammy preserves. Like wrapping a barley ultrarunner in a giant fruit rollup post marathon, it warms and sweetens in a sticky Syrah and dry Grenache way. Imagine dipping a Skor bar into an Uncrustable. It doesn’t need to exist, but some people do hit dab rigs.

Capitalism rewards innovation but does this novelty need to exist? Yes. It is squarely in the middle when ranked against the other Rev strong ale offerings, which is a solid place to be. It has more punchy fun, a juicy Welch’s quality, purple fruit snacks mixed with barely complimentary butterscotch and it somehow works.

So maybe BF is more like sfumato, blending lines as thin as smoke to melt into one another so that can’t perceive the layers. The result is a haunting eerie look into the multiverse of fruited strong ales that could have been. It makes things come both into and out of focus as you taste toasted pumpernickel and diner grape jelly.

Just reeking of smuckers at 3am trying to ride your child’s sleeping bag down a flight of stairs.

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