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On the Real Tho, What the Deal with Side Project Framboise du Fermier?

Alright we all know the lore behind this shit.  300 bottles.  Midwest hype.  1 per person per mule per grandma per collateral body present for the tickets that were allegedly/surreptitiously handed out to selected attendees. At least that is the way I heard it.  No sooner than buttholes were healing from the anal fissures attendant to the prior two fruited fermiers, this drops and all the sad tickers are carrying around their pink socks lamenting self-inflicted Fedex woes.

Let’s not get it twisted, landing this is going to be an exercise in self-flaggelation and St. Louis fecespeddlers have no empathy or shame in their rapacious requests. It is kinda like in the Ostfront when Germany was retreating, after years of dealing out abuse, the rest of the trade world is about to receive some grim comeuppance from an area that previously held Schlafly as the piece de resistance. “If they do only a fraction of what we have done to them, we will be in complete ruins.”

Alright so, whale pedigree, whale expectations: BUT HOW DOES THIS BERRY BANGER EVEN TASTE? Let me introduce you to my stove, traps queens on deck.

That look is undeniable. God damn.

That look is undeniable. God damn.

Fruited Wild Ale, 8% abv

St. Louis, Missouri

Straight out of the gates, look at this majestic cranberry, roseate, blood of the nonbelievers spilling on the cobblestones.  It is easily one of the most beautiful wild ales this side of Cable Car Kriek and has flawless carb, sheeting and this delightfully filthy dance of residual seeds and flesh dancing in the globe. Stepdad is gonna spank those 9th grader asses stop sign red for opening his pink beer while he is at work at Cici’s Pizza.

I braced for some acetylaldehyde or maybe a touch of some formative Rose De Gambrius vinegar, but the whole affair takes things to the redline zone in every way.  There was no expense spared, no restrain used, no nuances employed, this is a 9 minute long raspberry Dragonforce solo that melts your baby momma’s face when she looks at it directly.  It is liquid fruit by the foot, gushers, red 5, muddled berries, smuckers, intense acidity that burns your eyelashes magenta, and waves of so many hispanic roadside fruitstands.  I imagine this is what it would feel like to get jumped into a gang, in a berry field.  It is just too much of a good thing to the point of being berry incarnate.  It cannot be reasoned with.

Behold, the ruby weapon, awakened after so many millenia of hateful slumber under the desert.

Behold, the ruby weapon, awakened after so many millenia of hateful slumber under the desert.

The taste takes the acidicty, fruit, and completely tactless overkill of the nose and takes it to suborbital heights.  This is not the Platonic form of a framboise, it is some malevolent Mojoverse where science has been harnessed to go beyond the berry into a weaponized raspberry neutron bomb.  It is ambrosial and deriding, like that abusive girl you met on Tinder who only hits you up after 3am. Given the quality of the interaction you tolerate the violence, if under suboptimal circumstances.  This is unlike ANY berry beer you have had, RASPY or otherwise.

Let me underscore something: this is NOT a one dimensional lactic acid bomb like Upland moves through the basic palate raffleranks. This is those end game weapons that are so powerful that they break the game as a result. Alright you know how everyone has a rock hard lambic boner for Framboos despite the fact that 2014 was flat and riddled with exit flaws? Imagine that is something like Old Rip Van Winkle 10. This, by contrast is something completely more insane, outside the penumbra of your training, this is uncut barrel strength WLW that will not be dominated.

clacking those pink bottoms, all these poverty tickers belly up to the bar tryna throw singles at a raindance tick

clacking those pink bottoms, all these poverty tickers belly up to the bar tryna throw singles at a raindance tick

There are waves of tannic skins that spin down your mid palate with delicious black cherry and currant heft but streak like an orbital laser, exothermic destruction on the back palate.  I had to drink my first glass with a water nearby, not unlike WLW.  I promise you guys I was not being a tamponpalate, this is way over the top intense and made for the St. Louis 13 person tastings in which these are invariably only opened. The magnificent drag down the throat is like uncut raspberry blow, the drip is enough to make some tickers cough because it isn’t stepped on.

tfw you at work not embarrassed to read 900 words about a fruit beer but see this and close the tab

tfw you at work not embarrassed to read 900 words about a fruit beer but see this and close the tab

At about the last 8 ounces, I had two chapped labias on my face and had to “proof” the raspberry fury down and I cut it with a Highland Park blended saison All the yeast.  The blend felt like a resignation, like i quit, I Tapped Out like so many stickers on slammer Silverados. Candidly, the blend was incredible and added that grist and cheesiness that the beer needed.

It is not flawless, but god damn if it isn’t some straight up once in a lifetime barrel strength madness that has never been replicated. It is the beer form of the Dodge Challenger Hellcat, no one needs 702 raspberries under the hood, but if you have the cash to get it, by all means go fucking nuts on the backstreets.  This is not a daily driver framboise, the berry burnouts are far too substantial for my weak dentistry.

DDB gets that coveted berry banger and gives criticism, the music of weak bloggers screaming in unison

DDB gets that coveted berry banger and gives criticism, the music of weak bloggers screaming in unison

Thankfully, every Untappd dipshit will be checking in a lukewarm meniscus pour so small it cant even retain surface tension.  This bilateral exchange of misplaced reverence and undeserved pride fuels the current trade scene, with Kafkaesque results.  We can’t blame Cory King for that, but we can blame him for not getting Mother 3 ported to the United States as Mother 3.  THANKS A LOT, CORY. FUCK.

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@Degardebrewing The Lily, Those Tillamook Ballers Unequivocally Hit Wild Ale Excellence.

If you are like the average person, you might grow a little confused with the 14 different De Garde beers released every month, each with moderately different labels.  Some are Keepers only others are Trappers only, some are sold inside of Trapper Keepers reserved only for Founders members.  It gets confusing.  Other times you will seek out a beer only to find “OH YOU JUST GOT THE REGULAR CHERIMOYA BU? No that one sucks the currant gin Imperial Cherimoya Bu is THE SHIT.”  Well rest assured, this beer is the best beer that De Garde has brewed to date and it enters into the realm of God Tier AWAs so forcefully that I don’t see how Trevor and them boys can outdo themselves after this masterpiece.  Let’s review this 180 (?) bottle jammer in today’s review.

It took me a long. ass. time.  To finally land this.  For some reason when people know they have the best bottle possible, they dont want to trade it away.  WEIRD.

It took me a long. ass. time. To finally land this. For some reason when people know they have the best bottle possible, they dont want to trade it away. WEIRD.

De Garde, Tillamook Cheeseland, OR

7% American Wild Ale with Tempranillo Grapes

As usual, let’s let the FIVER employee do his commercial copy for the beer:
“One of the oldest barrels from our stock, a lambic influenced sour ale.
We added a hefty harvest of whole cluster Southern Oregon grown Tempranillo grapes from a favorite vineyard. Big rustic and spicy fruit aromas with a bracing acidity, and earthy backdrop.
We expect this beer to evolve positively in the bottle over a long period, but the brightness and fruit character is very enjoyable now!”

A:  This looks quite a bit like Grrzz Druiven at the outset and I kinda rolled my eyes with an “OH YOU” thinking I knew what was about to go down.  The carb crackled away with light pinkish marroon foam that subsided quickly.  There was minimal sheeting and it just drops into this ruby purplish amber three point stance and starts poppin for dollars.

If they named this beer BRISTOL it would have left a more sour taste in my mouth

If they named this beer BRISTOL it would have left a more sour taste in my mouth

S:  This is where shit starts to get real, the dry tannic grape aspect wafts like a massive pinot noir and raspberries.  This is certainly dry to the core but it also has a sort of madeline bready sweetness to the nose with a touch of vanilla, on the tip of your nose like an ultra cute first date where you schedule a baking activity because both of you are socially awkward and need a crutch to facilitate interaction before you decide if you want to fuck.  WAIT A SECOND.  There is a bit of ultra lactic Cascadey shit going on here like Cascade strawberry, but I guess I will give it a pass depending on how it tastes.

T:  PASS OBTAINED. This delivers the most nuance of any De Garde offering to date and never is hamfisted in its pucker, or too brash in its acidity.  In a staggering move, this De Garde impresses by sheer balance and moderation.  If your face was melted by the Ambrees and you need speech therapy, this will be your Esuna.  The grapes are present like a blend of Alexander the Grape and Strawberry Short Cook otter pops, you get a smuckers strawberry jamminess, acidity that serves to compliment instead of dominate, and a lingering tannic closer that tells your stepdad that he can sleep on the couch tonight.  It is a beautiful moment.

Gotta offset those AWA kCALs

Gotta offset those AWA kCALs

M:  I was bracing myself at each swallow for this to pull off the mask and turn into some punitive Upland dominatrix just stepping on my cubes, making me beg for less acidity because I BEEN A BAD BLOGGER O FUK YA. But that thankfully never happens.  It provides this dry, yet jammy execution like a well done Rose, bursting with fruit and then dropping off the moisture cliff like when your Sig Ep buddy TRAVIS tries to guess women’s bra sizes at the club.

D:  This is exceptional through and through.  It stands head and shoulders above the whole De Garde canon, and approaches that near impossible rank of Southampton Black Raspberry Lambic, Cable Car Kriek, Pipeworks Blue Lady and all the other usual suspects you see listed as flawless iterations of the AWA genre, if maybe a touch below. If for some reason you can’t land this I would suggest uhhh, taking Omniscience and Proselytism, mixing it with Cerveza Tempranillo and a splash of Atrial Rubicite.  Landing all three of those would probably take less than this elusive minx. BUT WHY GILD THE LILY AMIRITE?

Whenever someone talks about Oregon, this is what I imagine.

Whenever someone talks about Oregon, this is what I imagine.