Apparently this lost abbey plans on selling 750ml bottles you can covet for years to come.

WE WERE SO YOUNG THEN.

DDB vedeo checklist:

1 – horrible audio? check

2 – tenuous word association jokes? got it

3 – shouting? yup

4 – mispronounced words? always hilarious.

5 – shaky camera with small pours of dregs? on point.

100/100 see me after class

The farmhouse gods giveth and they taketh away. I don’t know how this beer started a decade ago, but this is now a twisted trash fire immolating at the saison altar.

Unless this was the first black saison aged in red wine barrels, something has gone horribly wrong with time. In an alternate universe where HF Edith is a malignant tumor of oxidized dark malts, skoal, cherry home run pies dunked in kikoman: this beer exists. The cork was fine but the beer was awfully oxidized and tattered by the vicissitudes of the green bottle condition. I would have never guessed this was a saison, and instead would have felt bad for whoever tried to brew an Oud Bruin on mescaline. The cherry is the only fun redeeming aspect of this tannic cardboard effigy smoking in the shattered shell of farmhouse fire bombing.

Some American Saisons can hold up effortlessly, but a Southampton Peconic gem, this is not. Time has crashed upon the rocks endlessly wearing this into a clovey mess of turbid fragments.

Brb seeking out SPF45 for science.

Proving once again that vintage tomes rek shop hard, this beer has aged incredibly with no signs of oxy. Admittedly it tasted entirely unlike the 04 and 05 ete I previously popped, almost like a biere de garde with a lovely cherry and floral presence. Even where the consistency is lacking, the ghost slimes you hard with exceptional flavors and depth. I need to lock down the new batch to toss it in my ecto containment unit aka that phantasmliver.

Lotta buzz and controversy surrounding these pre-commercial beers, but what’s the real deal?

This is a plastic fermented lambic fruited in the secondary. The carb dissipates almost immediately and belies the tart nature therein. There is no lacing or distinguishable cling but I strap in for the apricot adventure.

The smell is Brett L and intense acidic profile with a waft of apricot skins and no pithy fruit left behind. It’s kinda like an even more intense upland yet strangely massaged out the acidity from a strictly Brett monoculture, somehow. The fruit is present In A tannic aspect like the produce aisle at a bodega, not sweet but moreover a dry almost cider execution.

The taste is intensely drying akin to a type of Cascade apricot crackle along the gum line. The fruit is present but outshines by a excoriating tartness that lingers. There is no musk to speak of but maybe it will come along, who knows, for now it remains a distinctively one dimensional wild ale that is clean and crisp albeit lacking in depth or a funk to balance out the ph of the body.

I stay in the trap.

My favorite of the day, an incredible dry profile and tannic oak presence that lingers lovingly. It is vinous and incredibly drinkable, at higher temps it is viscous in the mouthfeel and as complex as Peter north is long.

THIS TASTES EXACTLY LIKE AN OLDER ZWANZE 2012…wait a seco-

This is really musky on the nose, tart strawberry and rhubarb pie, Wheaty grist and light oxy profile, clean outbreak of happiness sores along the gun line that closes like ripe peach and gruyere rind.

Tasty stuff. Spoiler alert.

Like a baller ass mamouche with floral and minty nose, a tart menthol closer. Phenomenal.

Holy god this is amazing

Elijah Craig filled in 1990 with its proofed younger sibling.

YMCMB