Category Archives: saison

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7venth Sun Saison Extreme, TAKING YOUR FARMHOUSE TO THE XXXXTREME!!! DO THE BELGIAN DEW!

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Happy 12.12.12, make a wish if you happen to be a 13 year old girl, or someone who is creaming his jeans for some Stone release. For those of you who are knee deep in trade bullet casings, ducking in the trenches and lobbing Cable Car grenades, you know about 7venth Sun. You know about their 30 bottle runs, you know they have those banging Berliners that Funky Buddha and Wakefield had been pumping in the streets; but what about their Saisons? We already looked at Swamphead to see what the business is, but what about an even smaller brewery that is burning up the underground like Mike Jones? Let’s see if Florida can slang hot beats in today’s review:

Get your Ecto Cooler and Gogurt, this is gonna get exxxxtreme

Get your Ecto Cooler and Gogurt, this is gonna get exxxxtreme

7venth (Seventh) Sun Brewery
Florida, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.50% ABV

A: First off, I had this in both the growler and in one of the (~30?) bottles, but I sent one of those bottles to a solid homie, so this is ONLY a growler review, ya dig? Well, I cannot say that this is extreme in the saison world, it actually seems refined and gentle like a John Updike novel. Run Farmhouse Run. The carbonation was still pretty generous considering the cross-contiental journey. The color was a light copper bordering on dark gold with nice lacing that streaked the glass like so many BIFs that I have seen.

This beer is refined and yet savage at the same time.

This beer is refined and yet savage at the same time.

S: The nose was extremely spicey and had a light touch of fusel elements, YOU KNOW ABOUT THOSE DAMN FUSELERS. There’s some white pepper, clove, and a touch of that sweetness you smell in Djarum smokes. There is a bit of musk but it really made me wish that I had the Brett version of this, BRETGERS CANT BE CHOOSERS.

T: This is a fairly standard execution in that it presents a nice wheat grist to it, a bit of lavender in a way, the clove and honey aspects are preserved, and this deep floral aspect like I just made love in a pastoral thicket to a woman or a confused young man. However you like it. It is tough to really pick this apart because this is essentially the Nissan Altima of saisons in that it presents all of the things that are required, doesn’t go apeshit on ABV or extremely lactic, no barrels were involved, no one has a black eye or torn Juicy Couture sweat pants. All is well.

Ehhh...noooo....Mr. Saison no es home...

Ehhh…noooo….Mr. Saison no es home…

M: This is slightly dry but there are enough residual sugars to sustain the day. The floral aspect lingers on but not in a hoppy manner, just a sort of hibiscus dipper in agave nectar sort of execution. Reviewing this beer is tough because it is like when someone goes “Was Wicker Park good?” and you be like “ehhh, it wasn’t bad, but I don’t see it landing on AFI’s top saisons list” and the metaphor gets all diced up.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and masks the ABV well, despite the slight tinge of heat on the nose. There is a variety of the old saison favorites, with a subtle twist, like the difference between No Strings Attached and that other movie that was exactly the same, released the same year. It is not like Paul Blart: Mall Cop and Observe and Report where one is clearly shittier, this is a solid saison that would warm your heart if only 1) you could find it and 2) you weren’t such a jaded beer ticking asshole.

Theft never gets anyone anywhere.

Theft never gets anyone anywhere.

Narrative: Adelbrecht Herjj was having a hard time adjusting to his contemporaries in Jacksonville, Florida. For starters, he was a pasty white obese Belgian man who looked not unlike Tintoretto. For seconds, he was not a Jaguars fan, nor did he even understand the basic tenants of the violent American past time. Santaesque or not, he moved to Florida clutching the American Dream, knowing that Florida was one state where liberty reigned and Deomcracy was truly pure. Adelbrecht wished to move to the Sunshine state and start his very own farmhouse, complete with apiary and meadery. Things started off rough when the corrupt Jacksonville government fined him for unlicensed zoning, water usage, and reindeer breeding. The last item was largely overlooked, but the problems still remained. Adel set out his koelship tanks and exhaled in dismay, “THINK ADELBRECHT, what do the Americans like…” he looked askance and saw a CornNuts package with a menacing character on the label, questioning his extremeness. “EXTREMENESS! That is IT!” The sleepy Belgian brewery overnight became an X-Games sensation when he let BMX Legend Dave Mirra carve hardcore in his Brite Tanks. His saisons were also XXXTREME when he decided to serve them IN A ROLLERBLADE. In summer months, partons were free to climb the grain silos and base jump off the roof into spent grain. Things became distinctly EXTREME and Belgian at the same. Damn. Time.

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MYSTIC BREWING SAISON DOUBLE HEADER, As if saisons did not give enough head already

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Well today I am doubling down on the saisons and taking two Mystical products to the dome to determine which mystic generates the most pleasure units. Shit is getting pretty Jeremy Bentham up in here real quick. I took their regular Mystic Saison as a control group and then took the Mystic Saison Asterix as the crazy ass variable. WILL PUTTING A SAISON IN A BOURBON BARREL HAVE FAVORABLE RESULTS? Today we take the Pepsi challenge to find out if regular or extra bourbon fried is the best variety of farmhouse.

Slanging hot rhymes, Mystikal Sasizon

Slanging hot rhymes, Mystikal Sasizon

Mystic Brewery
Massachusetts, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.00% ABV

THIS IS A GOOD SAISON!*
*you knew this joke was coming

Mystic Brewery
Massachusetts, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.80% ABV

Appearance:

REGULAR

This is about as dark as a saison can get in my book before I start calling Shaun Hill and asking if any stray bottles of CD4 escaped. This is damn near light brown and the golden hues that I look for in normal saisons are overtly absent like Korean high schoolers during the math olympics. The carbonation goes to the almost excessive level where I can go beat someone’s ass in Marvel vs. Capcom and return before I can actually drink it.

BOURBON FRIED

This looks much closer to what I am looking for in terms of that radioactive radiance that those baller ass saisons exhibit. I cannot understand how being left in a BOURBON barrel made the visual tones lighter, but I don’t have Beakman’s Laboratory to test this out. The carbonation is ratcheted back and Francis Bacon nods approvingly at this experiment.

Winrar: BOURBON

Reviewing two completely different saisons? Do it for them.

Reviewing two completely different saisons? Do it for them.

Smell

REGULAR

I get some tartness from this like pear and jazz apples, there’s a sweetness on the backend that comes across like honey or maybe a kind of stevia kinda of thing going on, but it seems to work given the fact the malt is absolutely nowhere to be found. All in all, pretty legit, but this confused maltsexual needs to make a decision whether it wants to be a burly wheaty guy or a supplicant tart beer.

BOURBON TASTY CRISPY

This is like peeling out in a TransAm on wet Massachusetts roads, the olfactory is all over the place with no regard for safety or control. you get that same pear and lemon aspect from the normal but oh wait, here comes waist size 46 BOURBON SMASHING THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYTHING. It seriously takes anything delicate that was going on above and just turns things into this weird hybrid, like in a threesome when people start crossing defined boundaries. I don’t want my vanilla beans touched while I am working on this honeysuckle.

Winrar: REGULAR

skull these two bottles back to back and you will be like-

skull these two bottles back to back and you will be like-

Taste

REGULAR

This comes across as a pretty straightforward affair, albeit, all of those fruits and edible arrangements that I was promised at the outset turned into mushy wet biscuits, Grands rolls, honey, a bit of lemon ring, cracked black pepper, and a light musk like 8th graders in PE. I mean, my memory of 8th grade, I dont, I dont go to Junior Highs and- wait what

BOURBON BBQ

This is one of the worst saisons that I tried during this Saison marathon/month. I am not faulting this for being off style, because it is so off style it is like wearing plaid pants that don’t even go with themselves. I enjoyed the taste of the regular beer, but this bourbon interplay just ruins things for everyone. It is like that bully that takes the saison ball and tosses it onto the neighbor’s roof. It is the Biff of the saison world. Saisons usually exhibit a gentle flowery wheat profile, this is a burly saison that is tatted and converted the Islam after its long hard vanilla/caramel experience in the barrel. I end up fearing it more than loving it, just like all my other healthy relationships.

Winrar: Regular, the bourbon only hits me because it loves me so much.

I got two awesome saisons in the same box and was like-

I got two awesome saisons in the same box and was like-

Mouthfeel

REGULAR

This is drying but the residual sugars provide a base for this beer to try a few fakie stalls balancing between both sticky and drying at the same time. I don’t think that it executes either particularly well. If Hill Farmstead E. is the driest saison this side of Soy and Clos Preal is the stickiest juicer that we know, this tries to roll with both crews and gets jumped in by rival gangs.

BOURBON HONEY

This makes no mistakes about what is going on here, the bourbon is gonna dry your sweet zones out with booziness while the funk will keep hitting deep on the bitter zones. While is seems masochistic, I like being worked over by these two at the same damn time and the result actually reminds me of something like a weird Wheatwine like Syx or White Chocolate. If you are honestly down for a hybrid like that, you might dig this, this was my favorite part of this beer. It is like getting dome with your own retainer in, you are all like, “why do I still have my retainer in?”

WinRar: Bourbon Baby Back.

BOURBON OR REGULAR GIVE ME ALL YOUR SAISONS. Hungryhungry tickers.

BOURBON OR REGULAR GIVE ME ALL YOUR SAISONS. Hungryhungry tickers.

Drinkability

Regular

The carbonation is just outright annoying and would make even Hiver blush at the mousse levels that are presented. Even the head brewer of Upland Lambics would be like “hey guize, let’s calm down on the carb.” The result is you are constantly losing parts of the experience to massive burps, gassiness, and it takes up precious space in my saison hole (mouth, this time.) Ultimately, I did not want a ton of this simply because I was like those dudes on the Mucinex commerical, getting blown up like Ultros on FF3. If you get that reference, we are instafriends.

Bourbon Ginger

This is a tough one for me because I did not want to drink a lot of this due to the weird hybrid thing going on, but I feel like if the abv was higher and it was not marketed as a “refreshing” style, it would do well in the realm of a BA Tripel. If offered both, I think I would choose the regular version because the vanilla/oak/coconut aspects mixed with wheat and apple just are hard to reconcile, like Bieber and Selena, everyone is just ashamed you know about it.

OVERALL WINRAR

I would say if all things are considered, save the effort and seek out the Regular Mystic Saison, unless you like rubbing topical creams on your perineum, then go for the bourbon, the heat and tingling is exciting and new.

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2008 Odonata Saison, Retired Beers from Retired Brewers into a Liver that Should Have Been Retired

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Sometimes we have to brush away the dust and look deep into ourselves and the past to analyze the deep perverse obsession with saisons. Only by confronting one’s own anechoic shortcomings can you really understand how good a saison is, feel me? If you know anything, you know about the revered Odonata Brewery, the hatchery that created the ultra famous Rorie’s (wh)Ale. So I figured I would excavate an old gem in today’s review to see where we have been, to figure out what the future will bring. As a side note, I went into Blue Palms Brew House and ordered the FW16 and the bartender asked me if I wanted 10 through 15 to go with that, not being a complete fucking idiot, I said yes as fast as my fat gluttal jowels could produce the sound. After I tried a few of that epic vertical, I spun some yarns with the cellar manager and he noted that he had “a really old saison” that I might enjoy. Next thing I know he busted out this archaic gem and shit got antediluvian faster than you could Ctrl+T that word. Thanks to Blue Palms for making a lil ticker’s dreams come true.

You can be the first to let me know that this is in fact a shitty picture. Be that guy.

You can be the first to let me know that this is in fact a shitty picture. Be that guy.

Odonata Beer Company
California, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.40% ABV

A: This beer has a nice radiance not unlike the fleece that some Argonauts once sought, a deep gold meets a sort of dull amber that is not exactly milky/turbid, nor is it as clear as some pasteurized saisons would let on. The carbonation for a 5+ year old bottle was so excessive, the bartender demonstrated this by agitating it after pouring it into the tulip and making a foamy malfunctioning dishwasher mess all over the bar. Shit was so cash.

This beer is a strange merger of old and new cultures, with fascinating results.

This beer is a strange merger of old and new cultures, with fascinating results.

S: This rides side saddle largely due to its age and I can imagine that when this first came out it was a straightforward dry honey affair but the beer that it has evolved into is even more fantastic. I get a series of apple skins, anjou pear, biscuit malt, straw, the brett C is refined and seems to serve as a keystone for the ballustrade to support the hay aspects in a subtle way. Part of me wants to raise an eyebrow at the AWA aspects of this, but it gives me a gentle pat on the back and lets me know everything will be ok.

T: This is not as lactic as the nose would lead you to believe, but then again not all Mormon girls are as freaky as they say. Some things just need to be empirically confirmed. There is a light lemon aspect to this that works well with the wheaty chewy profile. I don’t get a whole series of fruits and tarts that I was hoping for but I will say that this beer will absolutely disappear from your glass like cologne and ipods from a high school party. There is a lingering aspect of chardonnay dryness but I suspect that was due to the cultures that I poured in later in the glass, there was no barrel work here and, as Dan Olson would say, “This shit did not even go into a barrel ©”

When someone hooks me up with an old ass saison just to see it reviewed, that pleases me.

When someone hooks me up with an old ass saison just to see it reviewed, that pleases me.

M: This is chewy while it is in your mouth but immediately dries out the palate and makes room for larger flavors in the lingering aftertaste. If you are accustomed to the realm of Dupont offerings, imagine that but then add a white grape and tannic dryness to the backend that resonates like sobs in the dorm room of an overweight Starcraft fan. Construct additional pylons for your palate.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I merked this bottle pretty quickly. There is absolutely no alcoholic presence to this and the only real “problem” with this beer is the dryness and the excessive carbonation. When you take a sip it expands like those “just add water” shitty toys in the cereal aisle. As a result you are constantly mowing through the foam, trying to keep the gas down like getting Indian food on a first date. It is hard to fault a beer for my own rampant alcoholism, but, here we are.

This is not the biggest saison, but it is tough and weathered from a half decade of farmhouse aging.

This is not the biggest saison, but it is tough and weathered from a half decade of farmhouse aging.

Narrative: In a new wave of hysteria afflicting the youth of Boca Raton, wealthy young people had taken to body modification to strange new heights. When plugs were no longer in vogue, and surface piercings seemed to be a throwback of the days of the tired old Taking Back Sunday, the freshman class of Lynn University took to dangerous new procedures. It was September and the first fraternity parties were in full swing, the redolent smell of earth and stomped wheat lingered in the air, amongst stale alcohol and teeming hormones. Will Jacobs was working the door of his fraternity, half drunk on wheatgrass and everclear shots, accepting the paltry donations to the house, keeping Asian people out, things of that nature. A stunning young woman walked up with a retinue of attractive friends, each with their hands outstretched for a wanting “X” of approval from the ducal sharpie, validating their existence. Something was amiss. Will branded each in turn with the mark and the blonde haired girl who smelled of DKNY delicious, apples, and waterpark afternoons. “I need your hand, give me it.” Will commanded with a light buzz and the sounds of Juicy J resonating from inside. “Will, just let it go, leave it,” one of the other girls protested, her ill fitting BCBG dress pushing up to awkward heights. “LISTEN, mi casa, mis reglas, I need to see that RIGHT HAND, nothing else will do-” Will demanded and gripped her cold wrist. He felt a sharp whirring and the crinkling of thick plastic. “GOD DAMNIT WILL-” her friends protested and she pulled away the sheath to show her newest bodily modification, a cybernatic hand, the newest model from Skynet, the rage of the post-hardcore/Suicide Girls scene. “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED? DRAW THE X ON THE EXPOSED TRANSISTOR, you fucking assho-” she sobbed and wiped her face with a titanium finger that tasted of apple and honey lotion. The steps across the lawn and the whirring of a fresh penumatic compressor lingered in Will’s heart, and he knew that autumn was upon him, the past rushing forward, strangely developed in a new manner that he was unaccustomed to. He wanted to grip that hand and walk proudly with her on the promenade and win her prizes from a milk jug ball toss. That was all ruined now, as his failure to appreciate the past had denied his future. He seriously could not understand why a girl would think it was hot to have bionic implants, but this was Florida, a state where girls got countless stupid piercings and hummingbird tattoos.

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Fantôme Saison D’Erezée – Été, Slaying that Elusive Ghost Whale.

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If you know your saisons, you better have your PK meter ready and Fantome should be on your radar. You may have had Hiver, maybe Noel, or even Printemps if you are a crafty ticker. Hats off to you in your ghost hunting efforts. In today’s review I slay the purple gear god tier boss of Ghost saisons: Fantome Ete. This hasn’t come to the United States in years, and even when this was released, it was incredibly limited. How do I know this? It has a 163 wants, 1 got ratio on a certain site and is as elusive as MewTwo to get your hands on. So in honor of Saison Marathon crushing the non-existent competition, let’s get your Masterballs our for today’s review

Had to lay out so many traps , and service so many Traps, to land this elusive phantasm.

Had to lay out so many traps , and service so many Traps, to land this elusive phantasm.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: This is a messy orange juice smoothie looking beast. I mean seriously, go look at the clarity on something like Surly Cynic and then compare it to this pulpy microcarbed slimer. There are fine microbubbles throughout with a wispy head that escapes as quickly as the ghost appeared. This looks like an Orange Julius that you get from the mall, and like the mall beverage, you can drink it while scamming for 9th graders. I am not here to tell you how to live your life. Dany Prignon was a little disappointed at the lack of mousse, but I was not disappointed because the mouthfeel was off the charts incredible, but more on that creamypie in a bit.

When a saison tastes like juice, who cares if you know cursive, pound that shit.

When a saison tastes like juice, who cares if you know cursive, pound that shit.

S: This is just Jamba Juice and Robecks demolished right into your glass. I remember going into this thinking that some serious pepper/clove was going to be present but it seriously just went orange pulp, apricot, tangelo, grapefruit (acidic though, not like mid alpha acid hops), and a crazy pineapple waft to it. There is a brett musk to it that is acidic as well, like rolling peaches in some old comic books, more bomb than Bullet Bill. I would kill several members of One Direction for another bottle of this.

T: This is incredibly lactic and comes out the gates swinging with a tart apple, high pulp orange juice, pineapple, and a sort of creamsicle vanilla finish to it that is just fantastic. I have never had another saison like this, it is incredibly turbid and messy, but its like an episode of You Cant Do That On Television where you secretly like being slimed by this juicy ghost. Get it on my face plz. If you have had Extra Sour, imaging that beer, with absolutely zero booziness to it, less dry, and more sticky and sour throughout. It is hard to make comparisons to this since it is so unique, but if you took Hill Farmstead Mimosa and added a puree of peaches to it and a smashed up Bisquick roll into it, this is what you would get. Absolutely amazing.

No Fantome Ete in USA? I THOUGHT THIS WAS MERICA.

No Fantome Ete in USA? I THOUGHT THIS WAS MERICA.

M: This is the creamiest saison that I have ever had. I can safely say that there is a serious yogurt aspect to this and the swallow has this sweet soy milk thing happening that compliments the fruit in an anechoic chamber of pleasure. Only ghosts can know the peace from this rustling. There is zero dryness to this and it is juice all the way throughout. If you have had one of those Jarritos sodas where they emulate the Orange and Vanilla popsicles, you will get an idea of what is going on here. This is bizarre and comes across like something that Funky Buddha would hazard, but it takes a mad genius in Soy, Belgium to inject that phantom.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and not only does not have any trace of alcohol to it, but it seriously tastes like it is good for you. I cannot fathom how there are no adjuncts in this beer because the fruit profile is so pronounced. In line with the other strange/rare reviews from Saison Marathon, I cannot stress highly enough that you need to lock this one down, which equates to a huge cock stomp to my readerbase, I know. If you can’t land this, dont spray liquid nitrogen on your labias and smash them with a hammer just yet, Dany Prignon and that ghost hunters may make more next year. We can only hope, otherwise bust out that Ouija Board.

When this ghost finally arrived on my doorstep I was all like

When this ghost finally arrived on my doorstep I was all like

Narrative: Coming this fall to SYFY NETWORK: Ghost Listings, a show where experienced Realtors are SUED by former clients for not disclosing that the house that they placed into escrow WAS AS HAUNTED AS SELENA GOMEZ’S VAGINA. “When we first moved in, I figured, oh it is Bloomington, Indiana, hearing people moaning is normal. When I saw the walls start to bleed, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t the garden variety midwest depression that I was told about.” A cursory glance around the turn of the century Craftsman home would not reveal any imperfections, but slowly Mr. Walmsly noticed that something wasn’t right. “Well our daughter started talking about how Purdue was a ‘pretty nice school’ you know, giving up on life, suicidal ideations, that sort of thing.” After living in the home for 3 months, Dave Walmsly discovered a copy of Alien Ant Farm’s “TRUant” in the attic and knew that no living thing could own such a thing. “I was pretty convinced that it was haunted at that point, no conscious being would put themselves through that.”

Our team caught up with Chase Eldridge, noted Indiana Real Estate mogul and discussed the transaction. “This paper just says, ‘this is a matter of GRAVE importance’ what is this, is anyone with your crew even an attorney?” he quipped to our investigative reporters, immediately hostile to our story. “I just don’t know what you are even saying, so in this document it says that the ghost from that house is suing me? Is that even possible, like who does the ghost have jurisdiction over, sorry guys I have a 2pm meeting I have to-” it was clear from his evasive maneuvers that HE HAD SOMETHING TO HIDE FROM THE GHOST LISTINGS CREW. We went out back in the property to the orange/lemon/apricot garden and saw a smoky white mist of collected particles, sobbing gently under the portico. “He just, he said I could stay, and then he started touching the tip of my tail, my ghost tail here, like in a jerking motion, slowly at first-” it was clear at that point that Chase Eldrige was not only a real estate deviant, he was a ghost fucker as well. Another case closed on GHOST LISTINGS.

THIS FALL ON SYFY.

GHOST LISTINGS

GHOST LISTINGS

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Hill Farmstead Juicy, Super Nintendo Sega Genesis, When my Cellar was Off-Shelf Man I Couldn’t Picture This

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Saison marathon wouldn’t be complete without tossing a new upstart that gets no fewer than 10 ISOs a day, the newest club banger out of those Vermont ballers. This is a wine barrel aged New Zealand hopped saison and continues that proud lineage of Norma/Ann/(HF X beer + wine barrel) that seems to consistently deliver. Any way, enough pageantry and Biggie lyrics, Saison Marathon needs to address NEW HIGHLY SOUGHT SAISONS.

Protip: you will probably not find this for sale at any bar. Don't ask. Don't be that guy.

Protip: you will probably not find this for sale at any bar. Don’t ask. Don’t be that guy.

Hill Farmstead Brewery
Vermont, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.40% ABV

A: This has a bit of a deeper bronze/amber aspect than most of the HF molly dropping saison raves that I am used to attending. This may be less of a light show, but still is a foam party nonetheless. The 375ml gushed harder than an overweight woman after a first date. After it finally settled down, the pour was more tame and left little lacing and seemed more watery than I expected, but perhaps the barrel aged treatments provide some working over to the residual sugars, maybe every beer doesn’t need to leave your glass looking like a haunted house, ever think of that?

This is pleasant, yet terrifyingly drinkable. Approachable, but haunting in execution.

This is pleasant, yet terrifyingly drinkable. Approachable, but haunting in execution.

S: This beer is incredibly interesting in the respect that it approaches citrus from both angles and just chinese finger traps your olfactory. You get this dry musky pineapple meets kiwi sort of fruit profile from the hops, but deep down you know it is that trickster alpha oils trying to lure you into its Econoline van. Then at the same time, you have traditional/acidic aspects more akin to “real” fruits like apricot and lemon from the saison and light lactic aspects. Both nose holes filled, just getting jumped in from rival citrus gangs, tatting juice tears on your cheek.

T: This is drier than I expected, but maybe we should cast our prejudices aside. Maybe being raised in a barrel gave it a predisposition for citrusy violence. “Nature vs. Nurture in the Farmhouse World” is the title of my forthcoming Woman’s Studies Thesis where I explain why there are not enough female eukaryotic in the saison industry. Enough fucking around, this tastes like a brett C profile at the outset, like looking through an old yearbook, trolling for digits, that musky paper taste when you lick her picture, those Tommy Hilfiger overalls in Geometry and when she would sit you could see- wait what. So you get brett and then a nice substantial wheat profile like a Hawaiian roll that is sweet but lingers with a flash of bready grist that subsides into this lemongrass and apricot jamba juice boost on the backend. There isn’t as much juice in this as expected largely due to the dry profile, but it ends up more refined as a result. Maybe that girl from Purdue wasn’t as hot as you had hoped, but she was a anthropology major.

Close your eyes, this saison might remind you of a certain transatlantic phantasm. Ethereal farmhouse spirits.

Close your eyes, this saison might remind you of a certain transatlantic phantasm. Ethereal farmhouse spirits.

M: This is nowhere near as dry as E. but presents a smattering of elements from a series of the other accomplished entries in the Hill Farmstead catalog. You get this honey aspect that reminds me of Anna, but a sort of substantial wheat aspect that pushes me closer to Arthur, and with loving dryness and light acidity, old Norma watches the fold with loving care, slowly knitting an afghan for the coming Vermont winter. It ends up being a Voltron of several good qualities but not overdoing it on any one area, like playing as Yoshi in Mario Kart. One thing that bothers me is when the uninitiated saison asshole seeks this out because “IS GOOD RATEING!” and complains 1) wut this isn’t sour or 2) saisons are a simple style, etc. Fortunately, if someone is actually drinking this, they likely know what they are in for.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and I can see why people wanted multiples of such an exceptional beer. The ABV hides under the porch waiting for citrus mommy and hop daddy to stop fighting. The 375 is almost a punishing format for a beer that disappears this quickly. It would be like if Live Oak finally bottled their Hef and then used 25cl bottles. My room would look like a CRV depository. In sum, another amazing beer from HF that pushes another elegant etching into the arabesque of the saison world. I can’t think of an analog to seek out to emulate this, which is something noteworthy in the beer world.

If this were a larger format, I would be Gucci Mane faded all day long.

If this were a larger format, I would be Gucci Mane faded all day long.

Narrative: Turritopsis nutricula floated lazily in the Chardonnay medium. Barefoot Winery would have never suspected that the salt conditioning of their barrels would contain this prolific common rider, dancing lazily in the fluid. He was a resilient jelly, not insubstantial in grace or refinement. Some would argue that he was out of place in the lower end wine game, but he held a deep secret: NUTRICULA IS ETERNAL. I say that not in the Aristotelian way that he will remain in history forever, he was literally immortal. Whenever the changing tides of acidity or oak would affect him, he would embrace the citrus and float daintily down and respawn buds anew, changing his tissue to embrace the tannins in a new life. He was the lazarus of the depths of abject alcoholism, each time reborn with new strength. This diversity and power came from the polyp, for only by returning to life’s beginnings can one truly apprehend the beauty of a $7 bottle of wine, sometimes the negligent beginning of another life. Turritopsis would wait, elusive, ever changing, fortified by alcohol, oak, and juice; the Tuck Everlasting of the beverage world.

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McKenzie Brew House Saison Du Bois, Blanche Dubois Relying on the Courtesy of Strangers

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SAISON MARATHON HAS TO REVIEW RARE SAISONS SOMETIMES TOO.

This rare ass saison practically fell into my lap and I completely lucked out being able to trade for this. I had zero hopes of landing something like this with a bottle count in the magical sub-400 level. I have found that landing these ambrosial treats, no matter how whaleish, is almost always easier than dealing with that pesky BA Stout and BA Barleywine territory. I am also fucking things up for those of us covert saison lovers with all of these reviews but, anything is possible if 50 fucked Vivica.

Straight up BIC pen on the label, 372 bottles .rars to the fullest, monster monster tickers I got it.

McKenzie Brew House
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 7.00% ABV

A: This has a beautiful aspect to it and just the right amount of carbonation and overall this saison hits the aristotelian mean on all fronts, not too spicey, not too dry, not too over carbed, just a solid Mario ass saison. The result is an exceptional exercise in moderation that is noteworthy for that very reason. This looks like a apricot juice and has a cumulus nimbus fluffy white crown to it.

400 bottle release? I would hit that shit.

S: This goes for an incredibly herbal aspect to it that lays out the sod first and seeds up some beds of wet turf, finally closing with a sort of lemon zest meets yearbook musk for the noscope headshot. I really enjoy it, despite the fact that it doesn’t lean entirely towards the light acidity that I enjoy out of my saisons. If every saison were the same they would be IPAs and what is the fun in that shit? Let hopheads initiate beer n00bs, I don’t have time for that shit. This is big boy beer bangers, more snare in my headphones.

The saison is a graceful, award winning style that is always a bit funky.

T: This follows the nose with a dryness and herbal aspect to it that reminds me almost of an herbal fernet branca sort of vibe that immediately gives way to that acidic aspect that I was looking for IN THE FIRST PLACE. The lactic aspects were not pronounced on the nose but then they lazily show up with oranges and tangelo in tow, imparting a post menopausal dryness that only Glenn Close could replicate. This finishes with a sort of chamomille aspect to it that is refreshing and relaxing at the same time.

M: No shocker here, you can’t snort rails of Earl Grey all day and not expect some dryness. Hell, if you rub darjeeling on your eurethra and go to town, you will last for hours. This saison is much the same way, herbal but provides that refreshing blast to keep your coming back for another drying sip. The light acidity gives this a finish like biting into an Anjou pear, straight up revitalizing.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, but you should have already picked that up from the foregoing. There’s this sort of clarity to the complicated elements that is united under the wheat and brett character. This is another one of those reviews where I tell you to seek out a 300 bottle release and end up looking like a twatwaffle, but, seek it out. Get on that grizzy.

Saisons might not be the most desired style of beer, but they are amazing on the inside.

Narrative: Dig, oxidize, seed, cover, aerate, hydrate, harvest; it was the same thing day in and day out at Sodtech Inc. The contingency of scientists and resident honduran lawn technicians worked away busily harvesting new strains of lusher and lusher grasses. The recent strain of fescue was redolent with bluebell and felt like those velour tracksuits that Persian housewives are wont to wear. Somehow, Adam Walters felt that this existence left something to be desired. Sure he patented an azure seedling that was hydroefficient, but ever since Claire left the lab, he felt a deep dryness in his heart. He was the head of his Botany class and revolutionized his hydroponics seminar but he could not forget her flaxen locks, the way she would add ammonium nitrate to the bedding solution. She was pure grace with gloves that smelled of Barefoot Chardonnay. Alas, perhaps being a grass lab provocatuer was not the most efficient way to court the ladies, knee deep in animal dung, thinking about fertilization that could have been.

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Fantome Dark White BBB Saison, Black Hat, Black Shades, Dark White Ghost, Oh Behave.

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Dany Prignon kills it in the saison scene and spares no hides when it comes to strange new takes on what was almost a completely lost style. This is my favorite style of beer from one of my absolute favorite breweries. I try to swing things around from brewery to brewery, but this particular beer was so damn strange and phenomenal that I had to give props to the ghosthunters in Soy and tell the haters to count those funky spokes. Bring your flashlight, we are telling ghost stories.

The BBB stands for Better Business Bureau, which is srs bzness in Belgium.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 4.00% ABV

A: This does not look like your typical saison outing and it looks more like a biere de garde in execution but aint nobody complaining. The carbonation is actually ratcheted back from the usual “cork hitting the ceiling levels that this crazy ghost loves to present. These bottles can be dangerous. There is a deep copper meets watery bronze look to this that goes off the beaten hay/golden/orange juice look of many other saisons, but ain’t nobody complaining. I enjoy the light lacing, little spotty foam like a jacuzzi that has too many people in it.

If you open this at a tasting, you instantly become the pimp of the year

S: This has a light lactic tartness on the nose that is faint and reminds me of Fuji Appleas, you get a little bit of musk like puppy fur, and there’s some hay and faint herbal aspects to this. Everything feels like it has been turned down a couple notches. It is a gentle Fantome, the most chill of the ghosts, timid but sweet in execution.

T: This has an incredible musk meets light tartness to it like lightly salted hawaiian rolls. The mild honey pokes its head through the curtains and sees that its stepdad, lemon peel, has attended the rehearsal. All is well. This is simple but incredibly refreshing in the sweet meets light funk and light tart. Everything is just gentler and drapes a bretty shoulder over your shoulders to comfort you.

If you plan on getting into Fantomes, say goodbye to your expensable income. srs.

M: This is incredibly light and crisp as the same time. The watery aspects wash away clean, leaving you no time to ruminate over that should have been. The splishy splashy aspects make this on the Hill Farmstead Clara level of refreshing drinkable. If this bottle wasn’t $15.99, it might actually be sessionable, but I don’t know how hard you ball. I could drink this all day while watching a Night Court marathon, but that is how I roll.

D: Again, just exceptional in the way that it is present and memorable but doesn’t make the entire date about itself. It lets you tell canned anecdotes and nods lovingly in a refreshing manner. I love how the crisp tartness washes away immediately and the light funk gives it a solid backbone to lean its ghostly ass upon. My only complaint is that a beer this refreshing and simple should COST LESS, but that is hardly a fair criticism to lay upon the beer itself. Beer don’t know about no economics.

This is a little darker than I expected, but no one is disappointed.

Narrative: Construction of the trebuchet was not going as planned. Despite Leonardo’s assurances of improved design, the siege would invariably take longer than anticipated and the fields of Milan would remain in Ducal control. Salvatorri doffed his cap and kicked a rock in front of him and looked out upon the Palazzo. “We-a never-a gonna finish this-a siege!” he bemoaned in what could only be deemed a completely racist dialect. The counter balance was all off and the projectiles wouldn’t make it over the dominating granite walls, design to repel Papal control. Just then, a fantasm appeared out of the olive groves, glowing a deep golden hay color, wearing an anachronistic bowler cap. “Weeeeell hey fellas! Plannin a castle takeover? THAT SURE SOUNDS SWELL!” the ghost smiled and draped his ethereal arms around the 15th century soldiers. “mio Dio!” Salvatorri exclaimed, but was instantly put at ease by the gentle approach and amiable smile of this old ghost. Some would call him, Booberryesque. The lazy approach to things and finesse put all of the Romagna troops at ease and soon enough, the old catapult was as good as new. Later, while impressing Milanese people into forced servitude and accepting plenary indulgences for killing traitors, that old easy going ghost showed up again, wearing a pair of overalls and a straw hat. Salvatorri continued pushing a dirk into a wailing serf and winked back and that old trickster ghost.

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Surly CynicAle, For All The Sophists, Cynics, Epicureans, and Stoics

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SAISON MARATHON REVIEWS SAISONS IN CANS.

I figured for saison week, we have to have something relatively NORMAL up in the mix so that people don’t think that Saisons are exclusively for pretentious assholes. This saison is not only 1) amazing and 2) off the shelf but it also 3) comes in a can. That means you can slam this shit at the lake, while installing that body kit on your 1997 Eclipse GST, or while watching your kid play teeball. This is a rough and tumble sessionable saison that is ready for combat at all times. This may not have a huge funk or wild aspect to it, but god damn it if this isn’t a refreshing example of the style. Let’s pop open some cans in today’s review:

Being Cynicale can make you emotional.

Surly Brewing Company
Minnesota, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.70% ABV

A: This has a radiant gold color to it with an incredible amount of carbonation that rises to the occasion. There is a moderate amount of lacing and the whole affair is bright and uplifting like a Michael Bay movie where you know that the saison hero is going to come out on top. There isn’t a ton of cling or thickness to the carbonation and it subsides like the emotions of a teenage girl, pretty quickly.

Kill a 4 pack of this, wake up in the morning like “the fuq we do?”

S: This is the most straightforward telling of the saison story that I have had in a while. Since it is pasteurized you obviously don’t get any musk or funk or wild characteristics. However, what is lacks in the wild, it makes up for in the decadent sweet treat department. There’s a deep honey and clove and bubblegum smell to this beer and a cornbread backend like pies cooling on old timey windowsills. There’s also a light peach/pear aspect going on but it is like the background vocals in a Coheed song, you hardly notice them at all.

T: This is incredibly refreshing from the outset with a nice punch of clove and pepper with some bisquik biscuits and some bubblegum that has lost its flavor. It is tough to describe that lingering waxiness but it is delicious and washes away clean. There are some light fruits and a sort of buttery biscuit finish. Again, this isn’t the most ambitious example of the style but at least it doesn’t go on some Surly hop rampage.

This is a strange beer, but totally enjoyable.

M: This is incredibly light and makes you wonder why anyone tries to session any other type of beer when this has the abv, the finish, the look, and the YM charm that gets those teenagers so feided. The whole affair is a flavor bomb with minimal effort. The 16oz can is appropriate and I wish I would get these as extras more often because I rarely want to go out of my way to seek this out on its own because it never seems to last long in my house. BigLobo sent me a 4 pack of it and that shit was merked like John Connor at a Skynet convention.

D: Read the foregoing, this is exceptionally drinkable and totally affordable. The thing I don’t understand is why it is only for sale in places that are frozen for 80% of the year. Ain’t nobody tryna drink a farmhouse ale while ice fishing or whatever it is they do in Minnesota while they aren’t watching the Twins and Vikings lose.

This beer will get you feided on that purp.

Narrative: Sally Weathers was a content housewife enjoying the gentle respite provided by fall in Minnesota. The children were busy outside playing in an igloo that they had just constructed and she lovingly nodded while chopping the iced root vegetables for her famous tundra cabbage stew. It seemed as though the harvest season passed so quickly this year that she scarcely had time to break out the summer jackets from storage. “WHOMP!” a snowball struck the window and she playfully waved a knife at her child through the kitchen window while watching her son jump around in the 9 inches of September snowfall. She longed for the growing seasons that she enjoyed as a child in Salinas, California. She missed receiving that mortgage statement and paying well over $3,000.00 to live in a land not completely forgotten by the civilized world. Those majestic 42 days of sun seemed to pass so quickly, but it was hard to leave when the State paid her family not to leave. Furthermore, work at the ice harvesting farm was plentiful and she could take vitamin D supplements and wait for the sun to return. Life in Minnesota wasn’t easy, but at least she didn’t have to harvest superficial Persian interactions, elective surgeries, American Apparel clothing, and emotionally bankrupt aspiring actresses. Life is all about compromises like the passing of the seasons.

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Fantôme Extra Sour Special Original Creation, The Tartest Ghost To Inhabit Your Liver

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It is no secret that I love saisons, within that penumbra exists Fantome, a ghost who haunts the cockles of my heart. So what happens when Fantome releases ~600 bottle release of extra sour, incredible saison? The world fucking ends, that’s what. I had the hardest time landing this. I tried to hit up my Hill Farmstead friends and they sold out immediately, then I bought one online, OOPS OVERSOLD IT, so they returned my order. I gave up hope. All was lost. UNTIL MY FRIEND TIM SAVED THE DAY FOR NO REASON. So here’s to Fantome, here’s to Dany Prignon, and here’s to Tim. Saison week just wouldn’t feel right without an epic Fantome up in the mix.

I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 10.00% ABV

A: This is just a radiant turbid murky little lightning bolt that looks messy, but inviting at the same time, like sticky cinnamon rolls. The carbonation, as usual, is out of control. Some Fantomes you just set down and let them get their shit together because you look like a 17 year old pouring his first beer with these saisons. The lacing is minimal but the whole glass just radiates light like when you corrode something in Borderlands, yellow edition. This is staggeringly pretty, Ithaca Brute levels of prettiness.

At 10% abv, this doesn’t feel ruff at all.

S: The smell takes the normal saison offering and kicks up the lactic and pineapple elements to a juicy new realm. There’s a huge funk monster that is musky like wet leather and makes you think you left your bike outside in the rain. You get a slight element of peach and pear from the acidity and some old attic aspects from the closer. A strange, yet incredible quaff to it.

T: This is the smoothest 10% that I think I have ever encountered. The abv is masked brilliantly and there’s a creamy tartness at the outset like an orange julius, You get some residual wheat aspects from the middle body but it washes away into a funky pumpkin patch hay bale sort of musk. The whole beer is aggressive and takes saisons to dangerous new territory.

Fantome is serious business. Let the shortsighted n00bs have all the BA stouts.

M: The mouthfeel is dry, but not excoriating, the abv just sits back and orders the tart drones to do palate strikes. Again, this beer is not SOUR, per se. I have read reviews where douchenozzles complain that it wasn’t some lactic bomb that makes Cantillon blush. This is about as tart as a saison can get while being remotely to style. Some would argue that the 10% abv and huge fruit presence almost takes this into a new realm but to me it feel like a heavyweight boxer who tricked officials into letting him tear up the lower classes. On that note, this bottle was $35, so I doubt many lower classes are enjoying this.

D: This is scary drinkable, to the point where it hits the “MARVEL vs. CAPCOM 2” level where you can trick the fuck out of your friends with this trojan horse of a beer. You can drink this bad boy anywhere. Pull this out at a baby shower, enjoy your 10% treat and it looks like pineapple Ocean Spray and no one is the wiser. So, someone hook me up with another bottle please.

This beer takes saisons to SHOCKING NEW LEVELS. Tap low punch repeatedly to recover.

Narrative: Jerry’s Juice Emporium was failing miserably. First and foremost, people in Nebraska had an aversion to produce on par with 15th century Marseilles serfs. The midwest contingency just did not see what natural things growning on trees had to offer when Brach’s could make fruit snacks that were far more portable. One day, Jerry had the ultimate idea of leaving fermenting barrels of apricot and orange preserves mixed with the wheatgrass out back to make a SUPER SMOOTHIE BOOST. The usual crowd from Curves would pass, or sometimes enjoy a 700 calorie Milk Chocolate Protein MooMax shake, but never fruit. “Wait, what’s this here, HUNGER GAMES SMOOTHIE!” one patron who was likely named Tanya exclaimed. “Well no, it says hunger grain, but you, nevermind, sure.” She hurriedly ordered the juicy hay concoction and immediately felt as rosy as when she was 16 years old, just prior to her first child. “Imma keep my eye on you! I BE FEELING LIKE KATNISS ON THIS ONE!” The high alcohol content was completely masked and more empty pre-diabetic housewives came in droves. And that is how Belgium conquered the dustbowl. Fin.

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Fremont Brewing LAMB Saison, Gwen Stefani was not hurt in the brewing of this beer

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SAISON WEEK TAKES ON UNDERKNOWN SAISONS.

Fremont Brewing kicks out underground jams that don’t get much play in the clubs but they tear up the freestyle battle scene. KDS was amazing, BBomb continues to be amazing and fly under the radar of most. I just pray that Washington traders still keep hooking up these gems on the DL. Saison week keeps chugging along with this interesting take on my favorite style.

Oh my goodness, oh my damn, Fremont Brewing, they going LAMB.

Fremont Brewing Company
Washington, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.50% ABV

A: huge carbonation even with a gentle pour, light straw color to bright yellow at the edges, huge 4 finger head in a pint glass with thick lacing. It starts to toe that Upland sour line where you are like, alright enough already carbonation. It is like an interloping stepdad where you are just like “get the fuck out of here, no one was talking to you, you aren’t my real carb.”

pop open dank sticky saisons, enjoy that honey bath.

S: smells of honey, apple, bright bouquet with sweet finish, there’s a really sweet aspect to this that almost leaves the saison building to pursue a career in Adult Belgian Golden modeling. Just don’t tell this lamb’s parents.

T: This has a bright sweet honey taste on the initial palate with a biscuity middle that abruptly finishes, leaving you wanting another taste, aftertaste does not linger, a one two punch of bright then dry flavors. The citrus hops bring up the final flavor with a very subtle compliment. Overall, this is just too much honey in my honey pot, things be all sticky icky ooh wee. Maybe Pooh Bear would be all up in this mix but to be, it just generates too many bothers.

Sometimes the magnitude of the treat is too much to bear.

M: It is very light on the palate with just enough maltiness to sustain the drying hopes and sweet notes. three very nuanced flavors held in a delicate balance and very fleeting, no coating in the mouth making it an easy beer to drink quickly if not for the substantial carbonation. The problem that arises with this beer is that with the C&C format you are hoping for some crazy musk, funk, or even some Brett C up in the mix but the whole funk infection aspect is pretty restrained. I want my saisons in a sex swing, not boring Episcopalian Missionary position.

D: This is incredibly drinkable in a variety of conditions, go out work on your transam and class it up with this, serve this inside on a rainy day and it will impart the crispness of the air, if not cost prohibitive, a great session beer, despite the 6.5% abv. I don’t think this is exactly affordable though, so it might not be a candidate for absolute combo chains.

Whenever I pop open a dank saison, my face be all like-

Narrative: ::Ding dong:: he’s here already? I havent even finished me eye lin- ah but who cares, he’s so easygoing that he wont even notice that I only flatironed my top chunky layers. His bright blonde locks, cool disposition, who am I to keep him waiting. “Sorry I’m no rea-” oh well that’s a new bit of panache, a step with a ball turn into the marble foyer and he leans lazily upon the ballustrade. “-eady.” His light breezy air is welcoming but not cloying, you exhale and turn around closing the door, noticing the sunlight cascading through an eddy of dust particles dancing on a sunbeam and- he’s gone. But you aren’t worried, you have 11 more ounces of this fellow, to lithely waste away this verdant afternoon. Ah he brought honeycombs, your favorite treat, what a supple little lamb.