If you ever need a clear example as to why you can fully disregard the neorone palates on BA, then go read the cringeworthy reviews of this “87/100” stunner. Sometimes Tired Hands can get a touch out of pocket with conceptual prog rock tier bottles that riff into uncharted territory. In merging endlessly clean minerality with a wholly familiar pilsner realm, some latent DuPont Avril alleles magically generate within the nucleic acid. Avrilleles. It tastes exceedingly similar to the Live Oak and Jester King collab, so read that as: nipples on full ache. It’s so fragile and delicate like lilac petals in an Ardmore creek, but the stillness belies depth, some rocky gems at the bottom. Part lemon seltzer and part fescue, it finishes with this intensely herbal fennel and sage swallow. All of the latter is somehow choreographed with this pilsner instruction. The Belgian table beer rolling in the hay with a lowly lager Czech pilsner, the working class cum de debutante is almost Clarissaesque in its hardly believable nature but, unlike the endless Richardson novel, this was consumed instantly. It’s volume is a canard as this will likely disappear faster than Mayweather at an Infinite Jest reading. Translation: this is “forgettable” in the context of filthy 1oz pours in a sweltering Jacksonville backyard amongst confectionary chocolate water. Let it be forgotten, right onto my doorstep. This annular therapy isn’t here for a long time, it’s here for a fleeting good time. 

That EC will light up ur chest like ET

Here’s one thing I have learned of late: Colorado is excellent at curating and furtively sipping solid fermented joints in private.  Content to keep things within the mile high terrain, not involving Fedex, they get high on their own supply. We see it happen with Casey, Royal Oil, more recently with the absolutely ridiculous Black Project and now we have this newcomer Amalgam presenting a focused approach and dropping solid wilds and saisons in a state just flooded with quality wares.

Ascension is their “flagship” beer it seems and it is in the high-good to low-great end of the spectrum akin to a notch above the likes of Prairie Golden or what’s likely the best of your local offerings.  It is tart but not overly drying, like your libertarian uncle who is respectful and doesn’t go too hard in the paint about Gary Johnson at family gatherings. The oak interplay is fantastic and almost give a silky acidic sheet cake type of thing, vanilla and lemon, orange pith and a lingering Squirt type of swallow.  It’s a touch too sour for an extended 750ml stay but, like some of the Almanac gems of late, the small format makes it flawlessly approachable. No palate buckling cankersores, and it remains bright and crackling with pop rocks life throughout. Very solid.

Dirty Glass Mafia notwithstanding: this is an absolute treat.  Think of the likes of Oak Theory and Noble King and Dorothy, and here we are.  I love these farmhouse ales that can reach across the aisle with a hoppy presence that remains radiant and dripping with fibrous stonefruit.  The hops work seamlessly with the gristy cream of wheat body and the substrate is this delicate lemon scone spritzer.  It’s pillowy soft and never overstays its welcome and enjoyed the exact opposite problem as Ascension, a 750ml simply isn’t enough because you will drain this like Powerade during a 4Loko hangover. This pops with microcarb and demonstrates a power pedigree of both farmhouse and hopgame that few brewers are doing on this level.  What this says for the entirety of their canon that is yet to be seen, but this vignette is very inspiring.

We focused so hard on whether the chicken broth could that we never stopped to think whether we should

These actually sound pretty refreshing down2croosh

Despite the suspicious low-ish abv, this goes in on every track, raisin and plum extendos in that bourbon Monte Carlo. I used to rip on Mikkeller for shit like Black and Big Worst, now they are pumping out refined seemingly reactionary restrained versions of American excess. It’s nimble but never underwhelming. That Copenhagen exclusive body contrasts to the North American “body by Copenhagen.” It dips low. Plenty of red fruit and awesome vanilla stave saturation from the oak, but doesn’t fee over extracted. It’s like a super baller version of Central Waters BBBW, tiny but substantial. The el Rey mysterio elbow aerials from the top turnbuckle. There’s fuckin raisinettes all over the stage.