It is not secret how much I love Sante Adairius’s wild and saison game.  While their hoppy and maltier offerings leave something to be desired, no one can approach the awesome things that they are doing with clean, complex, crushable farmhouse beers.

So what is this shit?
“A brilliant and calming sunset; the eternal ebb and flow of waves crashing on the beach; a dog’s smile-all of these the simple complexities of a life lived well. We constructed Lucybelle, a straightforward saison with Brettanomyces, to complement life’s little pleasures. Crisp, dry, and doggone refreshing, we hope Lucybelle reminds you to slow down, relax, and take in the mystery and beauty of being.”

Tl;dr basically a more substantial brett table beer.

This beer specifically is hilarious because it is one of their “worst” reviewed beers and it evidences the specific bias when rating a brewery’s own catalog against their own body of work.  If a brewery in Indiana released this, we would never hear the fucking end of it. This stands on its own as a phenomenal clean driller not unlike the also phenomenal Lady in Grey:

Lucybelle has this thin, agile character to it that does a roundoff back handspring while throwing lemony musky shuriken with deft accuracy.  It is both a touch too thin but also compelling in how satisfying it is to take those big swallows like bukake B-roll footage.

If you want to dip your toe in the SARA tide but have shaky knees with the Cellar Only offerings, this would be a great start.  It is basically a thinner, muskier, lightly acidic version of Avril, if you aren’t at half chub at that sentence, check your pulse.

We are doing John Mayer jokes now to appeal to the US! Weekly demographic, TMZ banner ads to follow.

  
Monkish has taken this silent approach to infiltrating the sour/saison game: enter lackluster and stealthily ramp up quality with every release. Olivia would be the greatest embodiment of this strategy, integrating mixed ferm seamlessly with a wine barrel aged saison, and foeders with Hyundai mileage on them. 

This beer is a single index finger pressed to a lover in the rain on a train platform, no words, just crisp Anjou pear dreams now. It never offends or steers your focus to the glass, a classic brew that dances in the margins of experience. Some would say this is a delicate tangerine and oaky table beer not unlike Side Project Saison de ble. These beers get panned at 11 person tastermonger fests for being WATERY OR BORING when quantity of consumption is paramount to reflection on experience. I am fine with that, 32 laughable Untappd entries in an afternoon should award users a Hester Prynn badge of shame.

Badge unlocked.

SHIT I FORGOT TO TRADE FOR ALL THOSE DRAGONTRAXXXXX VARIANTS. Credibility loss forthcoming.

  
The most slept on recent release from these Casey boys has got to be these wine grape deviants. I can only assume people saw the reviews from the meh GRAPE fruit stand and lumped in these new offerings accordingly. That’s about as dangerous as lumping in bottle works XI with bottle works X.

The biggest takeaway from these gems is the soft, compliant, lightly acidic, down comforter tannic execution. Sure it’s the fruit stand in heart but it isn’t the simple AWA fruit territory that, at this point, is as well tread as refined alabaster. This is like temptation placed in a rock polisher and all the intensity has been rounded off for a lacquer smooth “post Brazilian wax” finish. The grape never is cloying nor does it come across like a group of buttery chard loving ex-sorority girls validating the shit out of one another: it feels authentic and intentional.

  
The mouthfeel might be the best aspect and, in a realm of samey, heavy handed American wilds, this deft and deliberate posturing makes Casey lovingly shoulder with Sante Adairius and Hill Farmstead as the poised purveyors of 750mls you simply do not want to share.

  
Mfw dudes tryna cop new Casey bottles w bourbon county

  
Also an interesting lil whiskey upstart up in the mix as well.

  
But in all seriousness he crushes the fuck out of shredder in a garbage truck at the end of the 1990 TMNT film, that’s just straight up murder.

  
Also, how does super shredder survive that but when a dock falls on him as super shredder he dies and we have to suffer through the worst sequel ever made as a result?

Troy Casey makes some excellent beers, I hope someone shows up to his next release dressed like this, in that high elevation ice ready to kick FOOT

  
Guise Golden State dropped +30 on the Spurs last night and Curry does even play fourth quarters.

Wait what blog is this again-

  
90% as good as the old alpine and sitting on a shelf, no Chula Vista trips required.

When someone gives you an option to avoid Chila Vista you take it nine times out of ten. DM me if u wanna know what that one time is for.

  
As a backstory to this elusive, world class barleybanger, I have been hunting this for over two years. Since I couldn’t land it for the blind barleywine tasting, there was a well oiled hole left in my heart.

Typical Colorado generosity, a guy lands this and contacts me to make my barrel aged bbw fantasies Come to fruition. So here we are. Usually when I am edging this hard, when I finally drain those BALs, it is a let down. But not this time. You know when you go to summer camp and it’s super awkward to fap and then you finally get home and-

Shit just got weird. Let’s review this already

  
The carb is lacking and dissipates immediately: the sign of all of the greatest barleywines, shout out to Kuhnhenn. The legs are clear as slick windex, there’s zero cling and you don’t even need to wash your glass, everything burns away like lacquer.

Nose is sherry, Carmelized fig and raisins, young age stated bourbon, brown sugar cream of wheat, and smashed peanut brittle. It hits all the same TYPICAL best in class benchmarks but never overpowers with over oaked dryness or syrupy maple shit.

The mouthfeel is a bit more watery than I like, by the smallest margin. There is zero fusel presence and the closer is long and reminds me of Werthers originals from gramps’s zipper, you know how you accept candy from your grandparents. 

So is this the beer to unseat Great or King Henry? Well probably KH at this point is more faded than Kool Mo Dee, but you see my point. If this was in the 29 blind barleywine shootout, I’d peg this somewhere in the 12 range. I AM GENERALLY INTO PEGGING.

  
Bargain to weight ratio: this is off the charts. No one knows about it, Colorado loves giving things away almost as much as California. 

  
I had reservations going into this one despite the unquestionable quality of Last Snow. You see, funky Buddha has become the Hill Farmstead of weird Short’s food beers and that isn’t always what my aching coconuts require to release that sweet milk. This however, is incredible.

My candy sweats never onset in a meaningful way because the beer itself never trips over its own dick: it is first and foremost an incredible imperial porter and the adjunct MODIFY the experience. Usually the whole affair is the ass over teakettle the other way around, not this time, the excellence is established at the outset.

  
The sheeting is flawless and the billowing khaki carb is a 600 thread count uprising for your eyes and gum line. Two back to back favorable reviews makes it look like my palate needs viagra to stiffen up to these old overbearing dark beers, but I assure you, I am still doing naked diamond push ups in my one man cell. 

The taste never goes overboard or is some glade plug in coconut bullshit. It is seamlessly integrated into the body like that yellow jumpsuit from Kill Bill. The blade is lowered when the fruit ninja slices the barrel in half. The barrel treatment is so so subtle and doesn’t go oaky or adopt a lacquer bomb. It’s so, so fun to pander out new Florida imagery and craft new imagery to sleight their residents but, I can’t, this beer is redeeming in a manner that the populace is inversely disappointing.

  
Some people accuse me of an exclusivity embrace, that connection to a niche reader base who pressed their nips to the glass of my cell, because they served their nickels as well. 1 per person, 600 bottles or not, this is so well done. It is an explosion of cascading whoppers, almond joy, hangover coconut water, stripper dust (flowerbomb perfume?) coupled with brownies and macaroons.

The whole time I was twisting my pubes into long Predator dreads trying to decide if this outperforms Nooner8. It’s so hard to decide because this has balance and force like a Ducati monster, hardly usable in any realistic setting. But nooner8 is a ridiculous hayabusa that you full throttle to attract Bolivian women. Don’t make me choose.

Tl;dr Florida continues to do the Ba stout/porter game so so well.