Armand’4 Geuze Herfst (Fall), Dropping 32 euros on a bottle of beer Herfst so good.

How negligent can this website get? I reviewed Spring, Summer, and Winter of the Armand’4 series and straight up neglected to provide you with this banger: HERFST. Just so this is clear, here is how I would rank these Armand seasons: Zomer, Lente, Herfst, Winter. IN THAT ORDER. Well taking the bronze in such amazing company is nothing to be a sad panda about. Let’s get puckered in today’s review, for the geuze haters.

Love HERFST. Gueuze scars.

Brouwerij Drie Fonteinen
Gueuze | 6.00% ABV

A This has a huge generous billowing cloud of carbonation that is cummulus to the fullest. It is light orange at its center with light yellow and gold edges. It boasts a slightly unfiltered appearance. It’s like a 6 year old at CVS, you don’t want to touch him but you know he is a little sticky and filthy. The lacing is substantial as well, it leaves little party streamers on the edges of the glass with gracious aplomb.

With every season you expect a normal geuze, BUT THEN YOU GET AN AMAZING SUPER SOUR SOAKER. Dnt be fukn stpid Gooby.

S: Not surprisingly, it is stick and filthy. There are sour and sweet tart notes are blended with hints of granny smith apples underneath. I don’t want to go out on a limb but I am going to say a Skittle reduction is at play here. Compared to the other seasons, this has a funk and earthiness to it like the landscaping section of Home Depot. There is a great wet dog meets soggy alfalfa aspect that integrates with the acidity in a fantastic way.

T There is a pleasant sweetness for a split second with a latent backroundhouse to the bitter zones immediately thereafter. Its a sucker punch which leaves your mouth a bit dry but welcoming more if only for the strange assault. It’s like getting socked in the armpit, you aren’t mad youre just a little perplexed and glad it wasn’t worse. It provides a mild hop bite and this toes the line closer to an extremely funky saison but this provides an incredible acrimonious punch to the tart zones.

This is a huge beer, but small and restrained at the same time. It is a paradigm of delicate imbalance.

M: This is very light and dries in a refreshing fashion hitting that gumline deep and hard. It reminds you of an advanced cousin, the one who learned compound cussing earlier and gave you Too Short cassette tapes. Its like the tiny asian fighter who you underestimate who delivers fast swift blows that disorient and surprise your mouth. It is clean, crisp and damaging to your bitter zones. It is concurrently musty, funky, and also coats with a nice wheaty aspect to it.

D: This style is in my opinion fantastic for hot weather and, if you have some water on hand, a great companion outdoors on the beach or a boat. If you like very mild lagers then you will disagree but then you are also a raging pacifist and it is unclear how you ended up reading this review in the first place. The juiciness and earthiness of this perfectly captures the spirit of fall: straddling the heat and acidity of Zomer with the somber earthy tones of Winter.

32 euros PLUS shipping from Belgium? This is why we can’t have nice things.

Narrative: 47 years of service. Francine Manzana gave that caramel apple pop company the best years of her life and she was terminated “for cause” for reading a Patricia Cornwell novel when she wasn’t clocked out. Francine wasn’t going to take this lying down. She knew the secret behind the tartness in those pops, and she had full intention on taking this issue public. With her box of belongings from her desk she strode over to the quality control center only to find that Loretta was out. “I will make them feel the tart bitterness of abandonment, just like they showed me.” With a few calibrations she reset the dials and the mixture began running an entirely new batch of Caramel Apple pops through the line. Her acidic personality boiled inside with a deep complexity. She stared at her spiteful reflection in the bubbling pool of acidic green glucose. The wafts of the additional citric acid stung her eyes and nostrils. Francine smiled and tossed her mystery novel into the simmering goo, for she had an unemployment officer to speak to.


Armand 4, Lente, Oude Geuze, Belgian Acidic and Sick Wid It

Oh Wait, #7 Ranked Beer in the Whole World? Things are real in and around the field.

Armand 4, Lente, Geuze, 6% ABV

A: The beer has a radiant hue to it that is mellow but gold, like fresh cornbread in a field of poppies. The carbonation is huge and produced major frothy losses. However, this beer is rare and annoying to ship in from Belgium so, there’s an inherent bias. Dont touch it, dont even look at it.

Please Dont Touch the Lente.

S: The smell is acidic and tart with a tart lemon and apricot to it. There is a bit of white wine tannins and funky wet hay/post dogbath towel smell going on in a great way.

T: The taste is wild tart skittles, pear, apricot, and a deep acidity to it. The prickly tartness lingers long after you swallow and there’s almost a sort of red bull sugary finish. I dont want it to rip my mouth apart, but I know it is coming. Gumline recedes with every sip.

I know something bad is coming.

M: The mouthfeel is light and crisp like biting into fresh Anjou pear, however, the prickliness of the sourness burns and washes hot in a ph2 sort of way. With each sip, there’s a huge frothiness that expands in torrential sourness.

D: This is drinkable at first, simply due to how fantastic it tastes. However, right around the crest of a full 750ml tour of duty, I need some tums before I stoploss my ass into another round with this acrimonious asshole. It is amongst the finest sours/geuzes that I have ever tasted, but the acidity is almost too much and tears up the gumline like a native american treaty. And as soon as it began, the Lente is gone, and, I can deal with that.

Sit back and enjoy the Lente.

Narrative: “Dr. Irisine, line 1,” the loudspeaker boomed through the successful plastic surgery clinic. Dr. Irisine’s heels clicked along the linoleum with purpose. He swung into room 302 lightly on the heels of his supple lambskin shoes. “I am not going to honeysuckle you, this is bad, but nothing that I can’t fix,” he sincerely stated as he looked over his patient’s collapsed mandible. “Now listen, bedside manner is not my strong suit, but, I have seen industrial acid injuries worse than this, a little lye to the face is a walk in the park these days.” Within hours, the consent forms were signed and the patient was lying in a supine position under Dr. Irisine’s skillful care. The face took the acidity hard. It looked like a morbid Gushers commerical, but Dr. Irisine was the best around. His debonair scalpel and suction hose clipped left and right with compunction, excising away the destroyed teeth and gumline. Several hazy hours later, the patient woke up to see Dr. Irisine sucking on a lemon rind while gazing out the window. “Don’t try to speak. However, ponder this for me, what is it about life that condemns some gallant men to suffer horrible acid burns to the mouth and others to enjoy the sweet succor of its fruits?” he dropped the rind on the windowsill and flicked a drop of lemon juice onto the EKG. “Well my dear patient, when life hands you lemons-” he trailed off, spit out a seed and began to whistle the Andy Griffith theme song as he exited the plastic surgery ward.