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BFM (Brasserie des Franches-Montagnes) XV (√225 Saison) – Math nerds cupping them swiss saison racks

I sometimes have to field dumbshit complaints like “you never review beers I have heard of,” or “where is your KBS review? I need to know, plz, DDB captainsaveaho” and then I lol and drop 900 words on another obscure farmhouse beer because, this site ain’t bout that basic bitch shit. We aren’t on doing Frozen “LET IT GO” covers and posting instagram pics of us at Coachella listening to Lorde and shit. Go to another trifling beer site for that, there are plenty.

So today we have an ultra-legit top 50 saison that I have been longing for, ArchEnemy hooked this up. Apparently people in the PNW dont want to drop $30 on a weird looking “18 century ale.” MOAR FOR ME. Today we finna huff that Swiss Mist, tickers be like “SwizzySwizzy when your saison droppin?”

I was gonna chope this bitch up, but then I realized I might not tick this again. BOY WOULD MY FACE BE RED.

I was gonna chope this bitch up, but then I realized I might not tick this again. BOY WOULD MY FACE BE RED.

BFM (Brasserie des Franches-Montagnes)
Switzerland
Style | ABV
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 5.00% ABV

A: This rolls out of the bottle like a broken dishwasher spraying luminous foam all over the place, attenuated as fuck, that 90% strain just working those malts like a laquered floor at Magic City. Those straw red bottoms are clacking at the top of the saison pole and the webbing looks like Peter Parker just re-upped his subscription to Brazzers. The whole affair is turbid like a roll in the hay and the haze looks like someone is smoking dro in a tanning bed. The whole thing is dirty and fulfilling, like watching 3 hours of Nostalgia Critic and lying about it.

Beers like this are strange, but somehow you respect them because you know they mean business.

Beers like this are strange, but somehow you respect them because you know they mean business.

S: This is incredddddibly musky. Holy shit, I can only imagine how this tiny 5% abv ramped up and boosted out this huge acidic cheesy nose. You get some lemongrass, jamba juice rinds, The brett takes top billing and dips hard, accenting the acidity from the wild aspects of this yeast. This is chunky and dry, acidic curds and whey, lemon meringue cornbread cooling on the windowsill, and then you gotta change your Anchor Blue jeans because you just farmhoused so hard.

T: This takes the acidic nose and takes the cheesiness and funk to gruyere levels. The musk is like the Brabantiae of the saison world and I wish I had an old ass bottle of this, top tier farmhouse ale no question. The middle is a touch of breadiness and biscuit, with a sharp cheddar rind dryness and this pithy orange/grapefruit peel finish. It is incredibly dry and leaves a linger herbal creaminess along the gumline like you just sucked off a Shaman, but you are ok with it, because you finna tick. Incredibly complex beer on the nose and the mouth, call an ENT and get some biopsies done.

You pop this beer and a sense of urgency rolls over you.

You pop this beer and a sense of urgency rolls over you.

M: This is creamy not unlike Ete, but imparts an intense dryness from the musk and funk. The FG on this must be like negative platos, anti matter sucking all nether-malts into the void. It is acidic but so balanced in the approach that you can chain these hard, 750ml is a LOL serving size and the 5% abv just gets your all excited and it ends suddenly. You can guzzle this, the carb doesn’t slow you down, the acidity doesn’t dry you out, the musk isn’t cloying, and the thin body isn’t substantial enough to fill you up. THIS IS A ROBOT SAISON THAT CANNOT BE REASONED WITH. I don’t know if Wallonia would give this a full nod, farms all on the sides of the alps like Snowboarder Kids [fn1 – N64] but in the end it is just fucking delicious and if this was a true 18th century ale, I would not have gotten jack shit harvested or planted. I would have been all swerved in Zurich chopping up Roussean flows; what were we even talking about-

D: See above and make a quick inference whether this is exceptionally drinkable. This is a top tier saison for sure and I wish it would either 1) be more available or 2) dipshit tickers who secretly love AWA would leave beers like this alone. My site isn’t helping my cause by exposing saisons on the reg to stoutmouthed masses. It is a double edged sword, I want to show the world the new way i found out how to touch myself but then everyone steals my bit. So if you like wild ales and ultra acidic lambics, go drink those and leave us poor farmhouse drillers to our provincial toil. I can’t have it both ways, I can’t both praise beers like this and then continually rip on people who seek out KBS and black note like they are whales. The plaintive truth is that the second the 2013 wave of tickers moves to the next evolution of their palates they are gonna babyboom the fuck out of the farmhouse world. Draining our resources, not paying into the system, you know. Let’s just hope these newbz still think saisons are all Red Barn and Hennepin for the time being. Let us pray.

Tired of hearing dipshits argue over stout values? Drink saisons. It's basically like calling Social Services for your liver.

Tired of hearing dipshits argue over stout values? Drink saisons. It’s basically like calling Social Services for your liver.

Narrative: Jacob Donalds surveyed the contents of his spacious “cellar” and nodded in calm approval. The northwest corner of his parent’s basement in northern Ohio was his palatial estate, racks upon racks of IKEA shelves with bottles upon bottles of stouts and porters distributed nationwide. While submitting resumes on Monster.com he would take brief breaks to run his finger along his collection of Stone IRS bombers, lovingly caressing the cardboard boxes from each of his Parabola mainstays, kept in perpetual slumber. There was seldom a time that he did not mention his age when presenting this opulent stash, “NOT BAD FOR A 24 YEAR OLD RIGHT?” he would importune to his uncaring friends. Still, when the sun would dip low across the insubstantial horizon, he felt a panging and a hollow emptiness that perhaps he was not the most knowledgeable person in the entire world. His self image was affirmed regularly by his 134 person Facebook group and the accolades that followed upon posting photos of 2 bottles of Abyss were not insubstantial. Still, while running his fingertips over bottles and bottler of BCBS there was a vision of a higher calling, a more perfect style, as high as the Swiss alps, as refreshing as a kumquat harvest, running barefoot across fields in northern france. For now he would content himself to chocolates and coffees, for to embrace the unknown was to lay prostrate to a tradition of history whose power lay not in starting platos, but finish gravity.

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Southampton Black Raspberry Lambic, The coveted 5 letter acronym: SHBRL, unkillable 5 syllable

Alright, another highly sought out 400 bottle release? Business as fucking usual on DDB. After you finish reading these reviews I expect you to go back to other beer blogs with your prolapsed ticker anoos in hand like a tiny pink sock. Everyone loses their shit over this beer, offering massive combos for it, then saying “WELL I WOULD RATHER HAVE SAINT LAMVINUS” when they can’t land it. It is as immutable as the changing of the seasons, butthurt tickers bring the color to the leaves.

New York traders usually give a fair approximation of things since they usually have to drive 6 hours to brewery releases, so what happens when there’s something actually within their state? Does it ball the fuck out with those red bottoms clacking on the Berry Pole? We shall see.

Tried to pour more but this STUPID TIRED HANDS GLASS HIT ITS SURFACE TENSION LIMIT. Thanks a lot ONLY VOID.

Tried to pour more but this STUPID TIRED HANDS GLASS HIT ITS SURFACE TENSION LIMIT.
Thanks a lot ONLY VOID.

Southampton Publick House
New York, United States
American Wild Ale | 6.00% ABV

A: Oh shit, not only is there bubbling jelly in your veins upon seeing that picture, but the beer itself is straight up boysenbeery [sic] magenta. File this with those other Lisa Frank beers from Crooked Stave, those banging berry tones, lookin all like a baller ass wine cooler. The foam is mild and crackles away like your bank account at a Slashfiction convention, leaving little behind but sadness. The crazy purple/fuchsia tones borderline on Robey, but don’t fucking say it.

This shit will drop bombs on other fruited sours

This shit will drop bombs on other fruited sours

S: This is like walking through a Farmer’s Market holding your same-sex lover’s hand taking in the perfect wafts of berries, ripe spring bounty, and redolent with raspberry/blackberry tannins. Nana is leaving the pies to cool in the windowsill, and she used super acidic berries in case you decide to get your Gary Soto on and jack those bitches. There is a depth to this that reminds me of the Funky Buddha Berliners (“oh, those 35 bottle releases everyone got to try, thanks for the descriptor, asshole.”) If you enjoy the waft of CREME FRAICHE ROSE DE GAMBRIUS, this is the purple drank variant with a bit more black cherry and merlot tannins going on beyond just a raspberry, a nice spin on the traditional Fremboisey.

T: I started this bad bitch really cold to see if it had that classic 1 note acidity and, TO MY SURPRISE, still had quite a depth to the tannins and merlot aspects on the frontend, nice oaky produce feel to it that dries endlessly. The real boxer-dropper is when this thing warms up a bit and starts getting heavy handed with that berry, jammy, sticky icky, pie filling meet american wild acidity that is crazy satisfying. Unlike most American Wilds, which can be as one dimensional as a Florida State Communications major, this actually has a lil musk peeking through, something beyond adjunct overload or acid overkill. FUCKING BALANCE IN AN AMERICAN WILD WHAT AM I EVEN SAYING. But seriously, very well done, crushable for days and wont give you upper GI problems like Upland’s acidic extravaganza offerings. This is a vast improvement over those, admittedly very solid, offerings. It is just really fucking tasty across the spectrum, punshing you with a whip gently making you want more, you sissypalate, you like that huh, lick those berry boots, SUB.

I hope you RSVPed to the sticky berry cuddle sesh, bring your footie berry PJs

I hope you RSVPed to the sticky berry cuddle sesh, bring your footie berry PJs

M: This has a crazy prickliness to it that crackles like fruit pebbles in acidic milk, each sip has this blasting Fanta aspect to it that isn’t exactly an expansive carbonic acid profile, it’s more like a raspberry alka seltzer that cracks and pops along the gumline, pushing that fruit waft to huffing levels. It doesn’t look like a gusher, but it just pumps that C02 in the middle where your face hole is wanting. Also, this thing can really dry your sockets out, bring liver lube like water/old ales to grease your gears. Don’t run your internal components too hard.

D: This is incredibly crushable and the only real limiting factor, other than the fact that is sells for fucking $300 on MBC is that it can be a bit drying if you take a whole bottle to your face. LOL YA RIGHT UR NEVR GONNA DO THAT. But more importantly: CAN I BE A CONDESCENDING ASSHOLE AND STATE THAT ST LAM IS BETTER IN A DISMISSIVE FASHION. Yes and no, if you like being a presumptive prick, St. Lam is equally good but not the same thing. This is something totally different and worth ticking, highly recommended.

Ticking top tier AWA with legit pours, reported: no idea what I am doing.

Ticking top tier AWA with legit pours, reported: no idea what I am doing.

Narrative: Sheila and Michael had exhausted the gamut of sexually deviant practices to restart their marriage, last Tuesday’s PRODUCE-PLAY was a bit too much for Sheila. “Something about it was unsettling Michael, you know?” Sheila stated as she thumbed the rim of her latte. “What? Oh, the whole boysenberries on my perineum? That was too far? WELL EXCUSE ME I DIDNT KNOW I SIGNED UP FOR A LIFE WITH A LATTER DAY SAINT!” Michael exploded with guests onlooking. Sheila could still taste the Cabernet she gulped prior to give her courage to engage in intercourse with her face in a bowl of blackberries. “Michael, I almost asphyxiated on fruit, it was dangerous,” she added remonstratively while avoiding his glance. “Love isn’t about smashing raspberries all over my breasts. That isn’t love Michael, I think we need to go to a new therapist, one that doesn’t suggest berry sex. No more berry sex Michael.” Michael shook his head ruefully just thinking of all the wasted produce that he had already purchased. His dreams were crushed and preserved concurrently.

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7venth Sun Saison Extreme, TAKING YOUR FARMHOUSE TO THE XXXXTREME!!! DO THE BELGIAN DEW!

Happy 12.12.12, make a wish if you happen to be a 13 year old girl, or someone who is creaming his jeans for some Stone release. For those of you who are knee deep in trade bullet casings, ducking in the trenches and lobbing Cable Car grenades, you know about 7venth Sun. You know about their 30 bottle runs, you know they have those banging Berliners that Funky Buddha and Wakefield had been pumping in the streets; but what about their Saisons? We already looked at Swamphead to see what the business is, but what about an even smaller brewery that is burning up the underground like Mike Jones? Let’s see if Florida can slang hot beats in today’s review:

Get your Ecto Cooler and Gogurt, this is gonna get exxxxtreme

Get your Ecto Cooler and Gogurt, this is gonna get exxxxtreme

7venth (Seventh) Sun Brewery
Florida, United States
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.50% ABV

A: First off, I had this in both the growler and in one of the (~30?) bottles, but I sent one of those bottles to a solid homie, so this is ONLY a growler review, ya dig? Well, I cannot say that this is extreme in the saison world, it actually seems refined and gentle like a John Updike novel. Run Farmhouse Run. The carbonation was still pretty generous considering the cross-contiental journey. The color was a light copper bordering on dark gold with nice lacing that streaked the glass like so many BIFs that I have seen.

This beer is refined and yet savage at the same time.

This beer is refined and yet savage at the same time.

S: The nose was extremely spicey and had a light touch of fusel elements, YOU KNOW ABOUT THOSE DAMN FUSELERS. There’s some white pepper, clove, and a touch of that sweetness you smell in Djarum smokes. There is a bit of musk but it really made me wish that I had the Brett version of this, BRETGERS CANT BE CHOOSERS.

T: This is a fairly standard execution in that it presents a nice wheat grist to it, a bit of lavender in a way, the clove and honey aspects are preserved, and this deep floral aspect like I just made love in a pastoral thicket to a woman or a confused young man. However you like it. It is tough to really pick this apart because this is essentially the Nissan Altima of saisons in that it presents all of the things that are required, doesn’t go apeshit on ABV or extremely lactic, no barrels were involved, no one has a black eye or torn Juicy Couture sweat pants. All is well.

Ehhh...noooo....Mr. Saison no es home...

Ehhh…noooo….Mr. Saison no es home…

M: This is slightly dry but there are enough residual sugars to sustain the day. The floral aspect lingers on but not in a hoppy manner, just a sort of hibiscus dipper in agave nectar sort of execution. Reviewing this beer is tough because it is like when someone goes “Was Wicker Park good?” and you be like “ehhh, it wasn’t bad, but I don’t see it landing on AFI’s top saisons list” and the metaphor gets all diced up.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and masks the ABV well, despite the slight tinge of heat on the nose. There is a variety of the old saison favorites, with a subtle twist, like the difference between No Strings Attached and that other movie that was exactly the same, released the same year. It is not like Paul Blart: Mall Cop and Observe and Report where one is clearly shittier, this is a solid saison that would warm your heart if only 1) you could find it and 2) you weren’t such a jaded beer ticking asshole.

Theft never gets anyone anywhere.

Theft never gets anyone anywhere.

Narrative: Adelbrecht Herjj was having a hard time adjusting to his contemporaries in Jacksonville, Florida. For starters, he was a pasty white obese Belgian man who looked not unlike Tintoretto. For seconds, he was not a Jaguars fan, nor did he even understand the basic tenants of the violent American past time. Santaesque or not, he moved to Florida clutching the American Dream, knowing that Florida was one state where liberty reigned and Deomcracy was truly pure. Adelbrecht wished to move to the Sunshine state and start his very own farmhouse, complete with apiary and meadery. Things started off rough when the corrupt Jacksonville government fined him for unlicensed zoning, water usage, and reindeer breeding. The last item was largely overlooked, but the problems still remained. Adel set out his koelship tanks and exhaled in dismay, “THINK ADELBRECHT, what do the Americans like…” he looked askance and saw a CornNuts package with a menacing character on the label, questioning his extremeness. “EXTREMENESS! That is IT!” The sleepy Belgian brewery overnight became an X-Games sensation when he let BMX Legend Dave Mirra carve hardcore in his Brite Tanks. His saisons were also XXXTREME when he decided to serve them IN A ROLLERBLADE. In summer months, partons were free to climb the grain silos and base jump off the roof into spent grain. Things became distinctly EXTREME and Belgian at the same. Damn. Time.

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Bell’s Two Hearted IPA, It Takes a Lot of Heart to Make a Beer Like This, TWO HEARTS

I have been waiting and waiting for this beer for the longest time. I just anticipated it would show up some day as an extra or somehow land on my doorstep and a year later, nothing. There was something about this beer that apparently people want to drink it and not ship it across the country for free, weird I know. This is the final beer on the top 100 popular beers, so that’s also a milestone for me too. Anyway, randomly RatedZ just packed up two and shipped them to me, FOR NO REASON. The beer community’s generosity is getting out of hand.

Total eclipse of two heart

Bottled on 1/31/12, DRANKEN ON 2/23/12, the freshmaker.

Bell’s Two Hearted IPA 7% abv

A: This is a beautiful beer and is certainly worth the hype in the old looks department, this dame is a looker. Not sure about the trout on the bottle, but the carbonation is NOT FISHY AT ALL.

S: Hoppy citrus notes that feel like a westcoast throwback, super grapefruity, it hits the switches and lets the 5th wheel fall, mild pine scraper bikes are all up in the cut and supported by a mild honey but not balls out like Hopslam. The whole thing is a wonderful hop ghetto and I feel right at home.

T: The taste is very muted and gentle and imparts a slight orange rind and chinook or simcoe sort of vibe to it. It tastes bright and cheerful like an amiable old barber that happens to smell like delicious Pine Sol. The whole experience is very mild and has that balance and coercion I have come to expect from Bell’s. The hops are integrated incredibly well and doesn’t assault the palate but instead goes for a classy Oscar de la Renta tux and a modest cumberbun.

M: The wash of this beer is incredibly foamy and light, it begs for sessionability. The coating is very crisp like tongue kissing a cold pinecone covered in apricot juice. Don’t front, you’ve done it. Anyway, a very solid IPA and ranks among the best, no question. It isn’t the most offensive or gauche, but its strength is in its amiability and gentle repose. A nice hop hammock to fritter the days away.

D: If you didn’t catch the clear notes above, this is likely the most drinkable IPA out there, Hill Farmstead notwithstanding. But I ride the HF jock like a 2 Live Crew video so let’s set them aside for now. This beer is a muted lupulin ninja that strikes and disappears in an herbal cloud. It’s a classy IPA that you can take to a play, give a smooch and not try and go all the way with. Also, this beer is not of age.

Narrative: