Category Archives: saison

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Squatters’ Fifth Element, Bruce Willis is Wilding Out So Hard on this Saison

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At first I saw some stir in the trade boards for this elusive gem and thought nothing of it. THEN I LOOKED DEEPER. It wasn’t the low bottle counts, the sky high ratings, or the fact that it is my particular favorite style of beer; it was a love for Chris Tucker. Ok not really, but this is an amazing farmhouse, so let’s hit the barn hard in today’s review:

This approaches that amazing Fantome ghost level status saison, consumed by Latter Day Saints.

Squatters Pub Brewery
Utah, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 6.75% ABV

Fifth Element is a delightfully complex and rustic “Old World” style Belgian farmhouse ale. Aged in American oak barrels for a year and bottle conditioned, this artisan Belgian ale is sure to refresh.

A: This has an amazing look to it that is all saison, all funky turbid glowing radioactive hay with substantial foam and lacing. This is what I imagine a Vengaboys concert to look like, potentially Aqua. The hues remind me of glowsticks once your crack them open, straight up radiant.

Wait for the next Squatter’s release? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

S: This is all sharp citrus, lemon zest, l’orange, pomplemousse, nice grapefruit with funky Sunkist zest and a bready cornbread aspect to it. Whip up the Bisquik and start serving saison fiends in the trap.

T: This has an incredibly refreshing light citrus aspect to it with brett, lingering acidity, hay musk, there’s some light pepper and cloves but the citrus and dryness is really what impresses here, it just registered the domain Bomb.edu because it educates you in all things bomb. I really wish the bottle counts on this weren’t so ridiculous because I would hazard a trip to Utah to make this happen. I don’t ski and I drink caffeine so I might not fit in, but i could always buy a Costco membership and a trampoline and fake it. Mormons always get the nicest things.

I need my go go juice sweet saison booboo.

M: This is exceptionally dry but the acidity and light wheat profile makes this an exceptionally well rounded beer that reminds me quite a bit of Fantome Pissenlit and potentially a less dry version of Hill Farmstead E. This beer sits in nice ass company like how Two Chainz ruins every song but gets on tracks with Yay and Darke. Except that this beer is amazing, unlike Two Chainz.

D: I merked this bottle faster than Calvin Broadus, murder was the case this beer gave me. I want more but I feel it gauche to just demand it given the low bottle numbers and hand bottled status. If you open one, you will understand, this just gets drained relentlessly like lipo from Persian housewives in Bev Hills. I WANT TO GET DRAINED A SECOND TIME. Close the Brazzers tab, we spitting real Saison game on the musky tip.

I NED MOAR OF THES SASON. Srlsly guize. Srsly.

Narrative: “Damnit Devin, this Babylon 5 convention has no hot chicks here.” “Well what the hell did you expect?” The two were quite a pair, Devin and Pao. One was complex and foreign, the other was white, bland, and thick. “In the show, there are some sexual overtones but, I don’t think I have ever met a female fan of this series.” Pao ran his fingers through his shiny black hair, the halogen lights reflecting off of his tier 5 press pass. The two scanned the packed convention hall full of middle aged, mouth breathing fan boys. “The Centauri are kinda hot“ Pao offered consolingly. “Oh wait…tits…those are definitely tits.” The ceramic chest piece turned to reveal four prosthetic breasts on a woman whose gender was certainly already questionable absent any alien garb. “Ok, no, this is exotic and fun, but ultimately, a forgettable experience. I just can’t do this anymore.” Devin ran through the double doors. As he left Pao introduced himself to the shows executive producers, two stunning German girls of Conneticutian descent who later invited him back to the Marina Del Rey Sheritan.

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Tired Hands Brewing Trois Enfants Lazy Feet, Strawberry Andre Meets Fantome Ragers

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This brewery is another upstart that has hit the ground running by cranking out noteworthy hop bombs and funky saisons, not unlike another certain Vermont mixmaster. This beer is only available on draft, in a reasonable 2 liter growler so today’s review is going to be very thorough, something to drown your sorrows in since you learned the Jef won the Bachelorette. Sticky sweet berry banger, Keisha smokin on Keisha.

Tired Hands Brewing Company
Pennsylvania, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.30% ABV

A: This beer has a nice gemstone ruby red color that isn’t exactly my go-to Sherwin Williams color when I think of saisons. It reminds me of that shelf turd Fantome Noel that celebrates Christmas all year round. The spotty lacing looks promising and the growler served Fedex well by guarding this CO2 with its life. As usual, just look above, you know what this looks like. We run a pretty tight ship around here, it’s a game ship.

“Why you always gotta review rare beers I nevar has?” Pic related.

S: There a hint of ripe strawberry, some brett b funk, red Runts candy, a tart vinous profile, and yeasty wood, not the kind you need to get checked out at Planned Parenthood.

T: The taste has a light sweetness that is similar to a strawberry wine, dry oaky malty profile, a light yet heavy paradoxical malt profile that imparts some fleeting funk and wood notes and then peaces out with your Laserdisc player. This is not “on style” I guess and it could be some kind of crossover hybrid between saison, funky english mild, and a strawberry berliner, but then again I ate a shitload of Warheads as a kid, what do I know. I will leave this one up to the pre-diabetics in the audience.

This beer was quite the adventure.

M: This is exceptionally watery and punches home the strawberry and oak notes with no lingering standing in the doorway or effusive goodbyes. You get the fruit, then some oak, and this hobo saison packs up its bindle and rides the rails to another saison shantytown.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, Sean Thompson is wrong. There I said it. If you know him, tell him his opinion is bad and he should feel bad. I am coasting through this growler, mashing on the low (for this site) abv, and just enjoying my strawberry vitamins. The carbonation is good but doesn’t give a big crackly foaminess that fills me up, this allows some serious saison domestic abuse. This is the perfect beer to drink if you plan on throwing some Xbox controllers anyway, this gets it done a bit earlier. Downloading Marvel vs. Capcom doesn’t hurt either. This isn’t world class, but it shows a glimmer and foreshadowing of what this little upstart is capable of. If any of you hater PA readers have some Tired Hands to send my way, holler.

When you open a 2 Liter Growler, a truce is never an option. That is a battle to the death.

Narrative: “The raccoon came out of nowhere, Dad, I swear!” Jessica Harmssen pleaded with her fuming patriarch. He had loved and cherished his 1994 Neon Espresso since the day he drove it off the lot of the now defunct dealership. “Jess, I mean, I really don’t know what is worse, I can no longer make it to the farmers market, but, without my muscle car, I have lost my fruit sculpting passion.” Jessica lowered her head with a deep solemnity. She knew that her father had been studying to pass the Edible Arrangements proficiency exam and now he had next to zero chance of passing that daunting trial. “I am not mad at you sweetie,” Mr. Harmssen began, “but, I just don’t see how I can learn how to carve a strawberry lotus with…this. I will be the laughing stock of the communal farmers, a smashed in Espresso, the bumper is hugging my 14″ rims.” Jessica knew that she had disappointed her father, but, she was secretly glad that he would go back to his Daihatsu Charade, the weekend car, because that piece of automotive refinement was a real head turner.

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Hill Farmstead, Civil Disobedience Batch 2: CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE IS SECOND TO CRIMINAL DISOBEDIENCE

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Happy fourth of July. To my international readers that seem to love using Google translate to make my page already less not more understandable, cheers to you as well. For today’s review I figured I would do something symbolic and the idea of doing Budweiser crossed my mind, but it seemed contrived and predictable so I thought I would go more ABSTRACKT with Civil Disobedience, that which The United States is predicated upon.

Civil Disobedience sounded like a good idea until the war of 1812 happened. That was basically Vermont’s fault anyway.

Hill farmstead, Civil Disobedience 2: THE REVENGE
Oak Aged Saison, 7% abv

A: This beer has a radiant yellow/golden hue that looks like the contents of a treasure chest in video games. The carbonation needs an entire preamble to address sufficiently. It would take the full Too Short discography to describe the amount of head that this beer imparts.

“Oh great, another Hill Farmstead review of a limited release, I wonder if he likes it.”
Maybe I should be like the mouthbreather neckbeards on other beer review sites and make an uncut 8 minute video of me rambling talking about Prima Pils or some shit.

S: Hill Farmstead just knocks it out of the park with each release and the nose on this one is incredible, to say the least. There is a pronounced grassiness with a lemon and orange peel zest. The Belgian funk is muted and the dryness from the oakiness is present in a majestic way. It is like watching Raven Symone develop from Hangin with Mr. Cooper into a proficient thespian. The maturity from this barrel has imparted a great smell, not unlike the Cheetah Girls themselves.

T: The initial taste is that of a chardonnay dryness that melts into a crisp peppery orange peel finish. The entire experience is fleeting but makes you want to take another sip immediately. The esters are similar to a Belgian pale ale but impart this incredible crispness that just assaults the gumline in an incredibly refreshing manner. They say 27% of Americans die from heart disease, I want to see the number of people who die from drinking this amazing saison. That’s right, zero, so ipso facto, this is incredibly good for you and makes you immortal. Thank you Vermont, +1 to you.

It grinds my gears when people refer to Batch 2 as the “bad batch” when it is still head and shoulders above more than 90% of the saisons out there. Gears straight grinded.

M: The carbonation is so well done on this that, I sat hatefully waiting for the massive head to subside. The mouthfeel just laces and sets up sticky Victorian interior drapery to your mouth. It is incredible.

D: This is off the charts drinkable. There is no other way to address this. You take a sip and the dryness couple with the fantastic orange and peppery character to create a fantastic self-fulfilling prophecy wherein your glass is drained. You look around the room like in a text adventure game, although, no amount of keyboard banging will replace what has been imparted.

My face whenever a box arrives from Vermont.

Narrative: Sure, Chip Dexter didn’t go to college, didn’t need to with his flashy veneers and his $10,000.00 vocabulary. You didn’t know you wanted an extended warranty or a Dyson vacuum cleaner, but then Chip arrived and all of a sudden you had a volcano insurance policy on your Kansas home. He was a swift fast talker with the gift of gab and people loved him for it. Sure he had nothing to say and just reiterated Huffington Post articles relentlessly but, in small doses, you cared for old Chip. One day Chip found himself visited again and again by a confused eHarmony.com user. As all riparian trends go, Chips well of smalltalk ran dry and it was discovered: CHIP HAD NO SUBSTANCE AND WAS NOT FIT FOR LONGER TERM RELATIONSHIPS. Yeah, old Chip was a whore, but he didn’t care his crisp Michael Kors suits and dimples kept him company enough.

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Mikkeller/Stillwater Two Gypsies Saison, When ONE GYPSY JUST ISN’T ENOUGH

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Alright, these extra bonus reviews are struggling in the photography department, but hey, you get what you pay for on this site, free chuckles and yukyuks. Anyway, I LOVE SAISONS, so let’s see how this old chestnut turned out given the fact that I love Stillwater and have a general distrust of Mikkeller:

Just another day at Beachwood.

Stillwater/Mikkeller Two gypsies Saison

A honey golden with huge carbonation, nice lacing with mild middle body, amazing white water carbonation that I love to see in saisons just ready to lambast your nose holes with amazing herbs and citrus.

Section reserved for baller ass Saisons only, call your buddy to come get you.

S There is some Belgian sweetness, clove, citrus, and classic saison spiciness, I get some musky maple leaf and slight hint of hoppiness of the more alpha variety. It reminds me of the dude at the gym doing a ton of reps on the fly machine but making a ton of noise, it’s like, chill bro.

T: This is a nice dryness with mellow hops. The taste has a type of great pepper notes to it with some coriander. That makes it sound far more herbal than it is but overall very crisp and refreshing with great wheat notes. It is like giving a hug to that uncle who happens to be from belgium and pulls a hop cone from behind your ear from time to time.

saisons are kinda like pizza or sex, even when it is bad, it is still mad loot.

M: There is a very light character with great crisp character. However, in the realm of saisons it gets subsumed by many other iconic brands. It is not exceptionally memorable, overall, unfortunately. But understand I mean that in the leagues of big guns Hill Farmstead, Fantome, etc. This is still and excellent beer, just not the best in show. You can get disqualified by those AKC assholes for PRACTICALLY NOTHING.

D Like many Saisons, it is a very light and refreshing beer, but if it were not, it would be a pretty unsatisfactory saison. The light brett funk is good but ultimately forgettable. I always look for a spicy note or something to take it to that juicy key lime level that saisons like Magic Ghost or certain Vermont offerings have accomplished, but again, still a great beer, just nothing to tattoo on your foreskin.

There is something familiar, yet creepy going on here, not unlike a gypsy.

Narrative: Life was pretty consistent for Carl Cirrus. He was born from coastal pressure as a cirrus cloud, no surprise there, but he always longed for more. He would often glide along without purpose and refresh airplane passengers in a mild way. Ultimately, he wanted so much more. He wanted to live a life of excitement and pizzazz like his humulus and stratus brethren. They would toss and turn, flip into funnels, destroy Midwest towns; and yet here he was, just a placid long bed of evapotranspiration that no one gave a thought to. “I create those healthy jet streams for travel and the currents for watering cro-” PSsFFHFHHHSSHHH:::: a new satellite was launched trough Carl’s cirrus sternum: MTV3 just went live.

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Stillwater Barrel Aged Stateside Saison, Still Waters Run Deep, So Deep, Put the Ale’s Barrel to Sleep

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Stillwater has this reputation, at least in beer print media that is untouchable. Maybe the brewer is just a PR master but I constantly see articles about this brewery and the wunderkind owner. This beer is a testament to their ability. Let’s get this out of the way, this beer is awesome, and the fact that it was commercially distributed is incredible, as is the fact the a 330ml bottle was $13.99, but let’s couch that discussion, GRAB YOUR -BALS FOR TODAY’S REVIEW.

The separate of church and Stateside involves a barrel.

Stillwater, Barrel Aged Stateside Saison, 6.7% abv

A: This has a nice yellow haziness with great apple juice notes at the edges. The carbonation is present but not oppressive as the time spent in the carbonation mines, we all remember those days bleakly. Kiss my illegitimate lacing child for me, for her wispy eyes wont remember my dissipate nature.

Call all your friends, tell them barrel aged saisons are happening, watch the crazy shit go down.

S: There’s a Belgian funk to it, with some oakiness, lemon, clove, and tannic esters. This has a slight chardonnay aspect to it and nice vinuous aspect to it, so far so good, like most RPG games.

T: Holy hell, this was not what I expected in an awesome way. This dries like chardonnay and just gives the gumline the business immediately. It is incredibly tart, almost gueuze tart at the outset and gets all peppery and chills out for a second, smashes your Virtual Boy and takes off leaving an intense dryness like you used Lubriderm CQ. That kinda dry.

Smell legit…taste is…WHAT THE FUUUUUU-

M: The mouthfeel is incredibly crisp like biting into fresh Fuji apples that aren’t ready just yet. It is really acidic but oaky at the same time. This is a phenomenal beer and a welcome surprise when I was expecting a by the numbers saison. The barrel made this thing into a crazy beast, like the last seasons of TMNT when they are all mutating and shit. Only me? Ok cool.

D: This is fantastic and almost belongs in a Berliner Weiss or wild ale category the way that this guy went all Temptation on us. It is rough to call it supremely dirnkable because of the $13.50 for a 12oz bottle price and just the dryness. I wont be immature and go for the vaginal joke but, ipso facto, I just did. Buy this, it is a weird but amazing hybrid. Might just give Fantome Saison a run for its ghostly butt hole.

You remember on Garbage Pail Kids where you thought you were approaching some hackneyed premise but then it ended up being one of the best things ever? Well that’s like this beer, Barrel PALE Kids: THE MOVIE.

Narrative: “IF YOU DON’T LEVEL THE GATHERING GOURD, then the souls will escape!” Plestinya pleaded with the sour Ivinicus. “Please, I want to see you make your way to becoming an arch-summoner, but, if we cannot gather souls in this area, replete with drought and death, we have failed as necrophytes.” Ivinicus hung his head ruefully and kicked a scrap of a tumbleweed in front of him. “It makes you think doesn’t it?” Ivinicus began, “I mean, here we are, searching for ourselves, while simultaneously harvesting souls.” “Sir?” “I am just saying, the piercing blue light from the interior of stage coaches loses its luster, slowly but surely, and look at what we have here.” He gestured to the soul gourd, a powerful mage barrel crafted in the Magi epoch of Nev’Naih. “Sometimes I, I just want to see. . .” he thumbed the tab of the tiny barrel, “Ivinicus NO!” Pelstinya cried out as he removed the tab from the gourd and let the souls spill out in a white hot azure light. Each figure presented themselves, changed, for the better. “LOOK! That local grifter has attained a degree in economics! And that failed cattle rustler has developed a Keynsian economic theory DECADES PRIOR TO ITS INCEPTION!” A tacit survey of every soul revealed that they had matured in the barrel and become something greater than the sum of their flaws. “We are basically the shittiest necrophytes ever,” Plestinya noted somberly.

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Re-up the flows

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Alright I have been slacking, I will pump out some hot new yeastbeats soon, in the interim peep out what I have been sippin on lately, don’t worry, unlike Judy Winslow in season 3 of Family Matters, I won’t abruptly disappear.

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Barrel aged partridge with the Louis Vuitton belt buckle when it is keeping all the heat strapped.

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Bourbon barrel hunaphu, for when you want that cinnamon ancho to rock some BALs.

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Hill Farmstead Norma, next level lactic maneuver.

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Stone QM Virgin Oak El Camino Unreal, No peppercorn stems no fig seeds no sticks. Put your BALs on the 78 freeway for an Unreal experience.

Enough beer porn, reviews will be back soon, cancel that Welbutrin prescription and flip that to some Valtrex instead because DDB is about to make it nasty.

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Fantome Saison, The Original Belgian Incorporeal Gangster Clapping Funky Stacks Like Rack City

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This was the first Fantome that I ever tried and it changed the game for me and saisons. This beer took artistic license and made it clear that old saisons aint nothin to fuck wit. Anyway, I love this brewery, their saisons open up my ghost trap and get my pK meter blasting off the charts. Just don’t cross my streams.

Glassware fail, as usual. I have been pining for a Fantome glass since back when the Fantome ghost was in a corporeal form.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Huge grapefruit juice hues, great tiny bubbles, and archipelago lacing rounds out this beer. It has a solid pineapple and orange juice hue with murkiness to it that enhances the glow. Some people complain about the inconsistent nature of this beer but every. single. bottle that I have ever had of this beer had rocked a serious ghost erection through and through.

The ghost will wreck you and embrace you like Bruce Willis in the 6th sense AT THE SAME TIME.

S: There’s huge Belgian spice, nutmeg, clove, and almost brettanomyces funkiness to it. It almost has a wet cardboard muskiness to it. A bit of tartness on the finish that makes this both complex and interesting. There’s some nice fruits like granny smith apples, white grape, and tangelo. This ghost gets all up in your faceholes.

T: Wow, this is unlike any of the other musky spicey saisons that I have previously encountered. This almost has a wild ale character to it. The initial taste is a sweet biscuity hefe taste with some honey notes, the spices kick in and give it the taste of a tart apple baked good. I love the incredible funky sour finish. It is really impressive for the style and imparts an incredible citrus note at the end. As it warms you get some white grapes and tropical fruits. I could drink this all day long and the abv is hidden like a funk ninja.

I WANT MOER THES SO BAED!

M: It has a great murkiness that expands with a funky wheat tone. The coating isn’t overly aggressive but its has a great wheat profile that expands into a biscuity chewiness. Just like all the other foamy carbonation superbikes, this Fantome imparts a huge foamy peelout that is satisfying.

D: I initially was not a huge fan of this style but I must tip my hat and admit concessions to this amazing saison. I gave this to my girlfriend and she noted that it was “pretty good” which is the equivalent of a gold star on her scale. I could give this to any, single, person and rest assured that he or she would enjoy it immensely. The universal appeal is off the scale. I am perpetually in search of Fantome gems.

Santa knows how to fucking rage it. If you have Fantomes in your fridge, you can rally so hard.

Narrative: Lakitu loved the cloud life. Day in day out, tossing refreshing spined monsters down upon the earth. “HEY THERE OLD LAKITU! STILL RUINING PEOPLE’S SHIT?” Lakitu gave a knowing nod and proceeded to throw a spiked beast from 300 feet shattering the small dry cleaning business below. Some would say “hey lakitu, why not just be a refreshing cloud, you know, water the crops and all?” Maybe for a standard refreshing cloud, but Lakitu was born with bite. His acidic temperament fueled his anger and made it rain, not unlike Yung Dro in an Atlanta strip club; notwithstanding instead of dollars it was hateful monsters showered upon the masses below. Life could be worse, you could be an asshole like that Bullet Bill.

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Fantome Magic Ghost, The Perfect Beer to Enjoy on Easter; Hereticale Statements Abound

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Errybody knows that I love Fantome. I once almost shanked some school children in Boyle Heights for a Fantome stemware glass before I realized it was really just a Fruitopia bottle. That raised even more questions as to why people in Boyle Heights were still drinking outdated ass soft drinks, alas I digress. This is an amazing beer that has been chugging along on the hype train for gosh knows how long, now I finally get to try some of this mutagen and take the Pepsi challenge.

No Easter jokes about Divine resurrection, please.

Brasserie Fantôme
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Holy hell, this is one of the most interesting beers that I have ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, look above. Aside from March 17th, when was the last time you opened a bottle and your saison was as green as Battletoad pubes? This is incredibly beautiful in every aspect, the crisp white bubbles are smaller than my business acumen and the green hue is vibrant like popping a bottle of high class ecto-cooler. I can’t get over how radiant this beer is, seemingly offputting, yet amiable at the same time. The lacing is minimal but, who cares, if you popped this out at any party, people would think you have a carbonated appletini and you’d finally strike up a conversation with that high school junior you have been eyeing for AGES.

With this beer, at first you have no idea what is going on, then you win the game.

S: There’s that Fantome ghost again, fucking things up for the better, imparting musk, hay, apple, honey sweetness, a crisp pear, some fresh honeydew, and an amazing apple note that just begs for springtime like a Parolee awaiting a Good Behavior hearing.

T: It was never made clear that the Secret of the Ooze was, but I am sure that Fantome had something to do with Tokka and Rahzar. This mutagen has a fantastic saison body to it with a light wheat aspect that is the underpinning for a light kiwi tartness and some serious green tea action. I am talking Hipsters in summer green tea, the hardcore shit. The spices don’t muddle this affair and they serve as a percussive element to the din of the core saison. If this is 8% abv, then send the kids to bed, shit is about to get ruined in your house real fast. There is zero alcohol taste in this beer nd the fruit and tea interplay almost makes this feel good for me after and equally destructive P90x orkout getting a sick swole on, deep saison pump n0x shred on the dorsi tip.

This amazing saison seems like a novelty act until it pounds the shit out mouth, left all green teethed.

M: The mouthfeel is like a frothy waterpark in some hot inland city. It is exciting, foamy, mildly remniscience of a septic element, but ultimately all the pre-teen piss in your mouth can’t ruin the experience, the beer I mean. It washes away clean with an herbal aspect that lingers longingly like that girl you shouldn’t have made out with in the first place but she works at GNC so you still get sick deals on metabolic enhancers. That sort of clinging. Mutual love predicated on usury.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable, and I mean that in the scope of the other already vaporous Fantome beers, not beers at large. I know a beer is good when I start contemplating what massive whales (TSHYEAH RIGHT) that I have to obtain more bottles of this. Ultimately no one wants my tawdry ass wares so this may be the last time that I get to taste the sweet succor of this magic ghost. However, seek this out if you are in a state not inundated with beer lovers that swoop up all my sexy ghosts. Shit is PHANTASMTIC.

You know what this would pair well with? Arby's. You know why? Because this beer would taste amazing with damn near any solid food. Even Gamer Grub.

Narrative: “Yeah, here she is, the old Barrow’s Theater, not much to look at but, hey with a little spit and elbow grease, you might be able to make your horticulture echinacea dreams come true,” boomed the real estate salesperson in the interior of the badly charred left veranda. Andrew and Summer surveyed the premises with the utmost acuity, noting the burned Rococo banisters, the singed velvet curtains, each a reminder of that tragic day. “So uh, exactly how many Arcade Fire fans died on that fateful day?” Andrew interjected, setting the salesperson to unease. “Well no one remembers that hardly, I mean, who even listens to Arcade Fire anymore, right?” He was avoiding the question and Summer knew it. There was the faint lingering smell of burnt Toms shoes and Burt’s Bees products in the air. A light breeze tickled the fairtrade crystal chandelier and plinked out a few notes from the hit single from Godspeed You Black Emperor, “Storm.” Andrew turned to descend the split Victorian staircase and saw a rail thin apparition standing at the foot of the vestibule. “You here for AF? Yeah, I didn’t even want to come, been into them since ’08, but, such a directed change.” Andrew’s mouth fell agape seeing the ethereal figure push his gawdy blunt cut bangs to the side of his gaunt cheeks. “I mean, the builds are solid but the reliance on flanger fills are so post-Decadedence, you know?” Andrew came here to start an echinacea farm, but he had hit the motherload of hipster ghosts.

. . .

Ultimately, Roger Venkman had no trouble disposing of the unwanted celestial interlopers and hipster ghosts proved even less valuable in death than in life, somehow. Yet, Andrew’s echinacea farm took off to a resounding success largely in part due to the soil cultures imbued with pure, incinerated vegan flesh. It was that touch of herbs and ghost that made all the difference.

FIN.

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Hill Farmstead, Arthur Saison, A Rustic Farmhouse Crusade

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Like a moth to a flame, I cannot resist any offering from this brewery for the simple fact that across all styles they always deliver. It’s like the sure thing, someone sets you up with a friend who is into pilates, chances are the stage is set for something unhorrific. Wait, wait, I am generalizing, I have never taken pilates nor have I tried the entire HF lineup, shucks.

Arthur and hundreds of crusaders died just to taste this sweet libation. Thanks a lot Mr. Hill.

Hill Farmstead, Arthur, saison, 6% abv

A: As usual, Hill Farmstead has turned out a beautiful beer with a deep golden radiance that has some brassy translucence. The carbonation is frothy like an egg drop sour with soapy lacing like when you bathing the chillums and they as lively as bedbugs.

There is a whimsical aspect to this beer, but deep down you know that it is all business.

S: There’s a distinct herbal notes almost like evergreens, light funkiness like a wet Jansport backpack, and finally some dry esters. The whole affair seems crisp and sterile like surgical gloves, each note is in its place and tagged. The mastery from this old farm is noteworthy.

T: The taste has a nice herbal snap to it like walking on twigs in the verdant Vermont pastures. There’s a super dry Belgian ester note that reminds me of clove or sage, must be the new yeast. It makes a light arid beer like this feel more at home in the wintertime. The lingering flavor is a light crackery finish, again, an entirely satisfying affair. It’s tough to make quips and cracks when a beer is just dead on, I have some serious first world beverage dilemmas going down here. Boo hoo, this limited saison is too delicious to make fun of on the internet. sob sob.

It is wildly inappropriate how refreshing this beer is. Why must Vermont be so far away?

M: The mouthfeel is crisp and light with a nice brackish feel to it. It isn’t salty in a gose way, but it certainly has its own salinity that I gather is from the Vermont well that I am so fond of. The mouthfeel is hard, much like the rest of their lineup and I love the mineral finish because it is muted but accents all of the acidity and hops going on. Like that tonguekiss from the local coal miner who is nice enough, but come on, all up in your mouth?

D: This beer is incredibly drinkable and even in this bitter winter where you can hardly sit outside for an hour in the stinging dull sunglight, I could still muster up the strength to request more of these. The alkaline finish and hop balance act in tandem and just push this saison over the top. I guess on a minor level, the 750ml format isn’t ideal but hey a beggar and his chooser are soon parted.

If you start knocking off liquor stores looking for this precious beer, there's a few things that you should know about dealing with police.

Narrative: The violet hibiscus flower swayed lazily in the breeze and hugged the ocean currents longingly. It was that charming interval in between the crest of winter and the break of spring with its life giving rains to satiate the soil of the land. And then those fucking white thistle buds moved in. Generally speaking, a “weed” is a subjective term, without any classification value, since a plant that is a weed in one context is not a weed when growing where it belongs or is wanted. But just the way that these stupid fucking thistles spread their tacky thorny brambles about the sediment bed seemed to rob the entirely majesty of the Lent season. As if that weren’t bad enough, the younger zygotes budding and making a mess all over the place, then invite those godforsaken dandelions to commune with them under the regal hibiscus branches. It was all fun and games of toleration until finally one of the children plucked the dandelion reproductive spore and blew it all over the the wanting peat. Now it was going to be nothing but lowbrow commoners and ticky tacky flora of all varieties. The hibiscus were racist as the day was long but, if one did not maintain purity in Genus, what was one reduced to, Order?

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McKenzie Saison Vautour Du Bois, Expose said it best, Saisons Change.

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This is what I imagine kisses from Blanche Du Bois would taste like, dirty but fulfilling.

McKenzie Saison Vautour Du Bois, 7% abv Saison

One of 372 bottles. Oh shit you can just taste the rare.

A: This beer has a golden straw radiance to it with a little bit of murkiness. Like that chick’s hair after 3rd period PE, you know she didn’t wash it, I mean we were just playing Le Crosse, I digress. Nice carbonation and lacing, there’s a powerful saison core at its heart powering this beast.

This beer makes me have so much feelings. Why you feelings.

S: There’s a huge waft of tart champagne grapes, white wine, wet backpack, and sweaters from the dryer. It also kinda reminds me of a Crayon box, but in a good way. Altogether a very murky affair that you aren’t proud of but secretly enjoy, like Matt Damon movies.

T: The taste has a light tartness at the outset that resonates throughout while the funk and wheat just drills a sick solo. I want to just keep drilling this beer but then I have to go to the bathroom, so a vicious cycle ensues. This is an excellent beer to get a UTI from. I lvoe the hoppy dryness at the finish that reminds me of chardonnay so hard. I can’t believe that this has 7% abv because I am David Copperfielding this shit and making it disap- oh you got it? Ok, fine moving on.

Unlike this ridiculous shit, this beer was an amazing decision that I stand by, at least for the next few hours. That's more than this woman(?) can say.

M: This has a nice expansive quality that just takes over like a possessive ex-girlfriend, appropriating your palate for its own uses. The dryness isn’t overwhelming and this feels like a classier less abrasive Temptation, and it is better as a result. It gets better as it warms, showing its depth and complexity with an inkling toward the lemon and orange kisses that you get from people with a Lip Smackers inclination. Why are you kissing children anyway?

D: This review was written in the freezing 59 degree Los Angeles winters, so you can see how I am enjoying it under sub optimal conditions, but it is still super legit. The bottle doesnt disappear because the dryness and carbonation serve as stumbling blocks but I can still selfishly merk this entire bottle and not a single fuck is given. Sometimes I trade for shit and dont even know that I want it until it arrives and, thank goodness for shortsighted trades because this paid out so. hard. Classy ass wine spritzer up in the cut like what.

Some saisons, I am like, are you kidding me? This one is a legit rendering.

Narrative: Sergio walked into the high school prom reeking of Cooks. He exhibited that classic proto-wasted swagger, rocking lithely on his heels and using his elbows demonstratively. “Oh, Sergio, are you feeling alri-” Ms. Wilkinson could barely finish her sentence before he snapped back “OK Yesh, hello, tonight, I would like to let you know who is alright, in this world, this world.” He looked out towards the hackneyed light show and ruminated about the meaning of Tony Rich Project “Nobody Knows” Ms. Wilkinson had had about enough of his Puerto Rican antics “life is like a jiggsaw puzzle and your date sometimes hey, your date, psh, then puzzles all torn apart.” His sly posture was not offputting but it was clear that he had fallen victim to the sweet white grape. He was placed in an idling campus security squad car, the school paper quoted him as saying: “a million years from now…I’ll be loving prom steillll-“