As in, “hey did you end up winning that award from Saveur magazine?”

“[No,] I think someone else did, but DDB is still #up4anything.” 

For those of you who have DDB posters on they walls all day long, idolize the Youtube videos and know all them songs, you may have realized that DDB has reviewed every single Civil Disobedience except #9.  This wasn’t some intentional slight, for some reason when this dropped those VT tickers wanted to test the elasticity of DDB’s frail anus to a point that was unbearable.  Like all things, my pink sock has grown in fortitude in the intervening months, so we can now FINALLY review this bad ratchet.

When you hit adulthood, life is about making cogent financial decisions, like spending $13 on a Billy Ocean single on vinyl

Hillfarmstead, Vermont (no shit)

XXXX% abv, let’s call it 6.9% abv, barrel aged saison (no shit)

Commercial Reacharound:

“A single wine barrel blend of farmstead ales aged for nearly a year. Pale, citrusy and pleasantly tart.”

The appearance is a touch more orangey orange, radiant sun and less of the paleypale of Florence/Flora and company.  The carb leaves your house looking like a Gallagher show, foamy detonation everywhere.  When it hits the glass things settle down like when you ask the housekeeper where your tennis bracelet went. It has gentle cling, not like your Philipino ex-gf, but enough.

CD9 WALKED ON BY IN PAINTED ON JEANS

The nose on this beer is an interesting entry and the overarching milieu is “rind” and I mean that as the Hephaestean mold from which all aspects of this beer is forged.  You get grapefruit rind, honeydew rind, pineapple rind, and gruyere cheese rind.  It has a gristy touch of biscuit, so I guess “Biscuit rind” if you are really shitty at baking.  There seems to be a lingering faded hop element that comes across as a form of dry bitterness similar to what Sue was working with, but this adds a blast of charming fruits to keep its face down like Terry Sawchuck getting blasted in the domepiece.

The taste is the most bitter of the Civil Disobedience entries and honestly reminds me quite a bit of an off-brand Juicy.  It is hoppy but not distractingly so, kinda like that resinous old aspect, hop cones that fought in the battle of the Marne and have seen some shit in their day. It is dry and tart, pleasantly greek yogurty in the mouthfeel, a creamy crackle like Trix cereal after you eat all the fruits and you’re left with this lightly tart sweet dankness. Silly trader, ticks are for permavirGINs.

I mean, HF could spend their time with other pursuits, if you really want that-

The finish is long and fulfilling, like that final episode of Parenthood where Zeke dies. OH SHIT SPOILER ALERT FOR ALL MY MENOPAUSAL FANS. It exhibits a fair degree of oaky woodiness, but the residual hops come across like that white grist from an orange when you peel it like shit.  L2PEEL FUXER.

When people ask you how to land HF bottles, it be like-

Should you trade for this? Absolutely, it is phenomenal and you will get a glimpse into some of the more untouchable offerings from HF at a far more “accessible” cost of entry (read: only a single Veritas instead of 4.) What should you drink instead of this? Something incredible similar is either 1) Surette Reserva Dry Hopped OR 2) Crooked Stave WWB Batch 50, they taste astoundingly similar to this and your butthole will remain unfettered.

 Eight dollars well spent.

Mr. Durant comes with a trophy of himself. 

 A vanilla saison with zero vanilla is almost praiseworthy in itself, thoroughly unremarkable in the classic sense, I have nothing to say about this forgettable offering.
If midwest vanilla beans can magically endure in bcbs for 5 years allegedly without fading at all, I refuse to believe that this was a totally different beer when it was fresh. It wasn’t offensive or objectionable, and as a standalone Saison it was a phoned in dupont strain fermented at low temps.

I mean, it is fine, I guess?

 Productivity 0/10

Goodbye of doors world 

 
I was blown away by satsuma Flora, pleased with blueberry Flora, and in the wake of the recent black Currant Smog city saison, couldn’t wait to try this bad ratchet.

The pour is, as to be expected, Sofia Vegarra-tier beautiful. Radiant hues of violet and off pink carb sit atop this precious stone translucence. Bursting with blood red hues like when you stop taking your Valtrex.
The nose is blackberry jam with a dry Riesling aspect to it, farmers market meets prosecco with a lightly backish spray to it like you are on worlds ballerest catch.

The taste is a unique hybrid of tart, crisp Berry and this lingering cheesiness and oak. The result is a kind of odd “protofruit” character where you can’t pick out the individual nuances of the fruits but it feels like “fruits ET al.” It is hard to fault a beer for using a component fruit blend, but it becomes difficult for me to pick out its “intent” beyond the scope of “wild ale with fruit.” In the way that Sara fruit punch 1 suffered from this bipolar execution, it is incredibly refreshing and hits all the right marks without the clear depth of satsuma. 

 The fruit on this is as real as it gets, artificially fruited Saisons: not even once. 
So should you go apeshit locking this down? It is well worthy of your time and you should put it all inside of you. Aside from the Smog City release, I can’t think of a clear analog and you could certainly do far worse in this realm. That being said, this does not quite approach the pedigree of the prior iterations of Flora, or even Flora b5 in my estimation. Which is to say, it is very good but feels more like a four door m3, the additions are subtractions by way of contrast, but you still got a sick juicy Berry whip with amazing PowerPlant and tannic underpinnings.

 Not really worthy of comment in a meaningful way. Decent, clean, lightly resinous, crisp and finishes slightly oily.

A Humulus lager savior it is not.