Tag Archives: rare beers

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Veritas 016 Sprayed like a Frightened Wild Ale Skunk but Does it Bang?

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Alright, if you talk to some 2014 class n00b-tier trader they will tell you “v16 ZOMG IT’S FRUITED DDG!!!” but what’s the real deal?

v16

First and foremost, this is far closer to Spontaneous Cheer than DDG in that it lacks the musky Doesjel/dusty/cheesy/earthy/Herfst aspects.  That being said, that doesn’t mean that this doesn’t take headshots and grab fruity dogtags: the kills are confirmed, this is loud AF.

This provides acidity that never becomes too tart or overbearing, a nice lemon zest with a fruity backbone that is more of a fleshy tannic presence on the waft and swallow than an unmetabolized jammy marmalade. Something that would have been amazing in veritas 10 or particularly vertias 12: YOU CAN ACTUALLY DRINK AN ENTIRE BOTTLE YOURSELF.  Assuming you dont lose a third of it after you open it.  The barrel is seamlessly integrated as is the abv and this is a slightly more puckering version of the inimitable Persica b1.

The peaches are a great compliment to the base beer that I already loved.  The golden heritage continues unmolested with a crown jewel, which means that we are in for some stupid 14% abv oud bruin as Veritas 17, EVERY TIME.

This is absolutely worth your time and it is trading at hilariously low levels at the moment.  If you have a hilarious chili Prop to flip, transmogrify it into something amazing before those CA dipshits are the wiser.

 

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@Sudwerkbrew Strawberry Solara Berliner, Healthy Spirits SF Beer Week Exclusive, BAKING SODA I GOT BAKING SODA

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So today we have a RARE GEM from the Brewer’s Cut series from Sudwerk, these scamps in Davis.  So this is a STRAWBERRY berliner, but then when I went to their website, it notes “Davis microbrewers of hand-crafted lager beer adhering to the Reinheitsgebot German Purity Law” so I WUTTTTed pretty hard.  When I initially asked people about this, they said it was a myeh brewpub, but then other people staunchly defended the brewery itself and said that the barrel aged/brewery only offerings are amazing compared to the quotidian offerings sold at the yawn-worthy pub.  CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.  So let’s see what these Davis boys be putting they tips into in today’s review:

Glassware fail, SORRY MY DAVIS GLASS GAME ISN'T ON POINT. Funky Buddha used to make berliners jeez.

Glassware fail, SORRY MY DAVIS GLASS GAME ISN’T ON POINT. Funky Buddha used to make berliners jeez.

Berliner, 6.5%

Sudwerks, Davis, Strawberries added, in comport with purity laws.

The brewer presses his hips against yours and whispers this into your ear, lovingly tugging on your Beats by Dre ear buds:
““Strawberry Solera is a blend of Solera Weiss fermented with Sudwerk microflora and a Brett-Saison aged on 1lb/gal Sacramento Valley strawberries in Bordeaux barrels.  The nose is lactic, lemon, and berries with moderate Brett character.  Clean palate with bright berry and tropical highlights with a dry finish.”

A:  This is a turbid lil messy Jesse and has a creamy look of some Vermont trubtastic offerings, but at least this makes sense given the unfiltered hefty wheat bill.  There’s an orange julius and whipped smoothie carb to it and it looks gentle albeit far too substantial for a BY THE NUMBERS berliner.  But Southampton brews shit like UBERLINER and gets away with it so, whatever, just think of this as a Wittbier with fruit, you don’t give a shit.

Whenever I see strawberry on the label, I flashback to horrid beers from the past. Trying to live life in the present like Foodbabe tells me to.

Whenever I see strawberry on the label, I flashback to horrid beers from the past. Trying to live life in the present like Foodbabe tells me to.

S:  At cold temperatures you get this lightly plastic aspect that can occur when using strawberry as an addition.  It isn’t like a sick/ropey/phenolic, none of that business, its more like when you unroll a fruit by the foot and there’s a faint synthetic aspect.  After it passes 55 degrees this burns off and it is imperceptible.  The fruit character is very pronounced and the berry exhibits that same tannic farmer’s market aspect attendant to Cask 200 Strawberry or Omniscience and Proselytism.  As long as you don’t drink this exceptionally cold, you are cash money records.

Your hombrew club is gonna flip out when you tell them how RAER this beer is. Also, it tastes good, but THAT SHIT IS IRRELEVANT TO YOUR HOMEBREW HOMIES.

Your hombrew club is gonna flip out when you tell them how RAER this beer is. Also, it tastes good, but THAT SHIT IS IRRELEVANT TO YOUR HOMEBREW HOMIES.

T:  None of the synthetic aspects are present on the taste and this is actually very impressive.  It leads with a tangerine, lightly brackish cream of wheat breadiness, then the strawberry dominates IN THE FLAVOR PROFILE.  If you have had many strawberry beers you will know that most of the time, it exists on the nose and then peaces the fuck out on the taste.  All that insoluble fiber aint got time to be tasted and shit, gotta take its girl to the seed clinic.  This is less jammy and more like a saison with a pump of Torani strawberry, aged on musky red Jolly Ranchers.  That last sentence sounds like shit, but this is very legit.  Too legit to quit, even.

M: The creamy profile is very silky and soft with a far more substantial heft to it than most berliners.  It feels more like a straight up AWA scissoring a saison in a hybrid Apple car.  If you told me this were a berliner I would shake my head like when Cigar City hands me a 12% robust porter and starts quoting BJ standards.  As long as you dont need your BJs to be completely certified, you will enjoy this fruity creaminess to full completion.

You can handle a barrel aged weissbier on strawberries. Dream big.

You can handle a barrel aged weissbier on strawberries. Dream big.

D:  This is exceptionally drinkable and again, feels like Cask 200 Strawberry and Cascade Strawberry had some extramarital affair and dropped this tannic trub baby on the steps of the berliner orphanage to be raised under a different name.  THAT SHIT SOUNDS LIKE A NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE NOVEL THAT COULD HAVE BEEN.  At any rate, I saw the brewpub ratings for this brewery and expected this to be a bowl of anus dipped berries, but it is actually really tasty.  Go to Healthy Spirits and ask to see the spot on the shelf where these used to sit, light a candle, make a day of it.

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Fantôme Saison D’Erezée – Été, Slaying that Elusive Ghost Whale.

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If you know your saisons, you better have your PK meter ready and Fantome should be on your radar. You may have had Hiver, maybe Noel, or even Printemps if you are a crafty ticker. Hats off to you in your ghost hunting efforts. In today’s review I slay the purple gear god tier boss of Ghost saisons: Fantome Ete. This hasn’t come to the United States in years, and even when this was released, it was incredibly limited. How do I know this? It has a 163 wants, 1 got ratio on a certain site and is as elusive as MewTwo to get your hands on. So in honor of Saison Marathon crushing the non-existent competition, let’s get your Masterballs our for today’s review

Had to lay out so many traps , and service so many Traps, to land this elusive phantasm.

Had to lay out so many traps , and service so many Traps, to land this elusive phantasm.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: This is a messy orange juice smoothie looking beast. I mean seriously, go look at the clarity on something like Surly Cynic and then compare it to this pulpy microcarbed slimer. There are fine microbubbles throughout with a wispy head that escapes as quickly as the ghost appeared. This looks like an Orange Julius that you get from the mall, and like the mall beverage, you can drink it while scamming for 9th graders. I am not here to tell you how to live your life. Dany Prignon was a little disappointed at the lack of mousse, but I was not disappointed because the mouthfeel was off the charts incredible, but more on that creamypie in a bit.

When a saison tastes like juice, who cares if you know cursive, pound that shit.

When a saison tastes like juice, who cares if you know cursive, pound that shit.

S: This is just Jamba Juice and Robecks demolished right into your glass. I remember going into this thinking that some serious pepper/clove was going to be present but it seriously just went orange pulp, apricot, tangelo, grapefruit (acidic though, not like mid alpha acid hops), and a crazy pineapple waft to it. There is a brett musk to it that is acidic as well, like rolling peaches in some old comic books, more bomb than Bullet Bill. I would kill several members of One Direction for another bottle of this.

T: This is incredibly lactic and comes out the gates swinging with a tart apple, high pulp orange juice, pineapple, and a sort of creamsicle vanilla finish to it that is just fantastic. I have never had another saison like this, it is incredibly turbid and messy, but its like an episode of You Cant Do That On Television where you secretly like being slimed by this juicy ghost. Get it on my face plz. If you have had Extra Sour, imaging that beer, with absolutely zero booziness to it, less dry, and more sticky and sour throughout. It is hard to make comparisons to this since it is so unique, but if you took Hill Farmstead Mimosa and added a puree of peaches to it and a smashed up Bisquick roll into it, this is what you would get. Absolutely amazing.

No Fantome Ete in USA? I THOUGHT THIS WAS MERICA.

No Fantome Ete in USA? I THOUGHT THIS WAS MERICA.

M: This is the creamiest saison that I have ever had. I can safely say that there is a serious yogurt aspect to this and the swallow has this sweet soy milk thing happening that compliments the fruit in an anechoic chamber of pleasure. Only ghosts can know the peace from this rustling. There is zero dryness to this and it is juice all the way throughout. If you have had one of those Jarritos sodas where they emulate the Orange and Vanilla popsicles, you will get an idea of what is going on here. This is bizarre and comes across like something that Funky Buddha would hazard, but it takes a mad genius in Soy, Belgium to inject that phantom.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and not only does not have any trace of alcohol to it, but it seriously tastes like it is good for you. I cannot fathom how there are no adjuncts in this beer because the fruit profile is so pronounced. In line with the other strange/rare reviews from Saison Marathon, I cannot stress highly enough that you need to lock this one down, which equates to a huge cock stomp to my readerbase, I know. If you can’t land this, dont spray liquid nitrogen on your labias and smash them with a hammer just yet, Dany Prignon and that ghost hunters may make more next year. We can only hope, otherwise bust out that Ouija Board.

When this ghost finally arrived on my doorstep I was all like

When this ghost finally arrived on my doorstep I was all like

Narrative: Coming this fall to SYFY NETWORK: Ghost Listings, a show where experienced Realtors are SUED by former clients for not disclosing that the house that they placed into escrow WAS AS HAUNTED AS SELENA GOMEZ’S VAGINA. “When we first moved in, I figured, oh it is Bloomington, Indiana, hearing people moaning is normal. When I saw the walls start to bleed, I was pretty sure that this wasn’t the garden variety midwest depression that I was told about.” A cursory glance around the turn of the century Craftsman home would not reveal any imperfections, but slowly Mr. Walmsly noticed that something wasn’t right. “Well our daughter started talking about how Purdue was a ‘pretty nice school’ you know, giving up on life, suicidal ideations, that sort of thing.” After living in the home for 3 months, Dave Walmsly discovered a copy of Alien Ant Farm’s “TRUant” in the attic and knew that no living thing could own such a thing. “I was pretty convinced that it was haunted at that point, no conscious being would put themselves through that.”

Our team caught up with Chase Eldridge, noted Indiana Real Estate mogul and discussed the transaction. “This paper just says, ‘this is a matter of GRAVE importance’ what is this, is anyone with your crew even an attorney?” he quipped to our investigative reporters, immediately hostile to our story. “I just don’t know what you are even saying, so in this document it says that the ghost from that house is suing me? Is that even possible, like who does the ghost have jurisdiction over, sorry guys I have a 2pm meeting I have to-” it was clear from his evasive maneuvers that HE HAD SOMETHING TO HIDE FROM THE GHOST LISTINGS CREW. We went out back in the property to the orange/lemon/apricot garden and saw a smoky white mist of collected particles, sobbing gently under the portico. “He just, he said I could stay, and then he started touching the tip of my tail, my ghost tail here, like in a jerking motion, slowly at first-” it was clear at that point that Chase Eldrige was not only a real estate deviant, he was a ghost fucker as well. Another case closed on GHOST LISTINGS.

THIS FALL ON SYFY.

GHOST LISTINGS

GHOST LISTINGS

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Cigar City Apple Brandy Barrel Aged Hunahpu’s, Because Reviewing the Regular and Bourbon Was Not Enough

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Well, just short of doing the rum and whiskey variants, I think this should round out the old Huna triumvirate pretty nicely. I am going to save everyone from the shock of their lifetimes: this beer was amazing. I don’t say that because it sits proudly in the top 100 insouciantly uncaring of your petty desires, I say that because it melds all of my favorite aspects of the prior two versions and fills in what minor flaws there were. I opened a growler of this at my house with a bunch of people and even stout haters were enamored with this black beauty. Enough pre-reviewing, let’s get deep up in that review

I have had both the screwtop and swingtop variants, I prefer the janky old medicinal look of the screwtop but the swingtop is more official.

Cigar City Brewing
Florida, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 11.50% ABV

A: Keep true to the meciless Huna form, this beer just coats and strangles the light from every aspect of this beer. The malts are obsidian and darker than Jodie Sweetin’s heart. The mocha lacing is less substantial than the bottled and regular versions, but still clings with a very pretty sort of dirty aspect to it. The glass is literally ruined after you pour this into it, the entire thing just paints it this off khaki color that takes quite a bit to clean, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The south has created another deity worthy of reverence.

S: This has less chili presence than the regular Huna but still has a slight crackle of Cuban zest deep down. What is more present is this deep overiding sweetness and caramel presence that as first comes on like vanilla and marshmellow and goes to a naughty Werther’s Original sort of toffee place. The brandy is unmistakably present like Nana’s breath after a huge bridge tournament win.

T: This is a deliciously decadent Dove chocolate note to usher in the cadre of supporting caste comprised of brown sugar, light chili presence, a slight cinnamon crackle like holiday cookies that transitions into a sweet oak meets booziness that is totally fulfilling, like winning a Spelling Bee against ESL students. Fuck that, they entered the contest, don’t feel bad.

This beer is strange, but welcoming and oddly familiar, in a fantastic way.

M: This might be the most insane aspect of this beer, this seriously is the most viscously aggressive beer that I have ever come across. This stains the shit out of your glass like when Ivan the Terrible murdered 1500 unorthodox Tatar priests to access the Baltic shipping routes. That dark. Just drink this in a plastic cup and throw that shit away unless you want all subsequent beers to be haunted by the ghosts of huna’s past. I seriously don’t know how they did it. It isn’t just residual malts, if you want that trainwreck try Cigar City’s sugar disaster, Warmer Winter Winter Warmer. This is amazing on a whole different level of accolades. Respect.

D: This is strangely drinkable due to the medley of flavors going on. When I go to Denny’s and feel like having a 100% chance of diarrhea, I order the sampler. It has sweet, salty, savory, and such is the case with this beer. You getting bored with that chocolate? Oh here’s some fucking cinnamon, here’s some brandy, here you go, ancho chilis. You are welcome. It is like a god damn RX Bandit’s album up in your mouth hole.

When you focus on the purest elements, the truth is revealed.

Narrative: The cars whizzed by turn 4 with deafening precision and a constant din of squealing rubber and exhaust. The cadre within the ranks of the audience seemed to have one dental insurance plan per square 10, but that didn’t hamper their enjoyment of watching the Go-Karts tear the asphalt relentlessly, lap after lap. “Look at Brayden! SHOW THEM WHAT TIME IT IS BRAY BRAY!” Tonya screamed to her son whose age gap was of questionable legitimacy. The darkness in each participant’s heart fused together in a iniquitous ritual, evil to the core. It was a sport predicated on an abhorrence of all things progressive, repugnant to the environment. The checkered flag waved and the constant swirling of the high octane racers completed the rite of passage, Puzuzu, noted enemy of the dark magistrate, Hunahpu, rose from the center track. This abomination of sickening sweetness, chili dogs, diabetic pontification, and sticky sweet bourbon rose without a single ounce of trepidation. “MYYY MINIONNSSS YOU MUSTTTT, GO SEE EXPENDABLES PART TWOOOO” all present nodded in silent recognition and looked longingly on their Boost Mobile phones. If only they could purchase tickets with them, the will of the cantankerous deity could be done. Alas, the poverty stricken are the last to embrace the seraphic embrace of the iPhone 5. Such is their original sin and perpetual plight.

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Cantillon 50 Degrees North 40 Degrees East, Things Are Getting Geographic Real Quick

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Bust out your compasses, we are going wale hunting in today’s review. As if slaying normal loonz isn’t enough, today we have a Cantillon one-off from 2007. The deal behind this beer is Jean Van Roy took his inimitable gueuze and found an incredible Cognac distillery and aged it for 2 years in barrels from that distillery. You know how membranes of a mitochondria fold in upon themselves to generate more ATP? That is what is going on here, except this is churning out purified RAR. Let’s get loonzy in today’s review.

I hope your harpoon is sharp, or your Paypal fishing vessel is well stocked.

Cantillon 50n4e
Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Gueuze | 7.00% ABV

A: The appearance of the beer is an almost tame affair. The golden hues of the normal gueuze are present albeit with a deeper golden aspect to it and minimal lacing. There’s very little carbonation but, at this point, I could give a fuck less about some carb issues. Go buy a Fantome or an Upland lambic and call it even after you clean the beer off your ceiling.

Cantillon one offs? You can only look like a total asshole asking for moar.

S: There’s a strange interplay of elements here, you get the classic musk and lemon zest from the Cantillon gueuze, but there’s a deep sweetness and caramel candy finish to the nose that wraps the two together like a candied granny smith apple with booze. The cognac seems to have faded a bit, but it feels like a more balanced product as a result.

T: The taste is an incredible Chimera of elements going on. At first the beer presents a tart acidity like a freshly cut grapefruit with some blood orange zest, then the e-brake is pulled and this shit flips faster than an Integra being driven by a 17 year old hmong kid. The beer magically turns into this sweet mellow golden aspect with tastes similar to caramel, toffee, macaroons, and a lingering boozy sweetness like brandy, or, more properly, cognac. This whole affair is strange, like making out with a beautiful asian girl and then finding out she is actually a beautiful Bolivian girl. You aren’t even mad, just confused as shit as to what is going on.

At a certain point, I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

M: The mouthfeel is dry and lingers with this swirling interplay of acidity and sweet baked biscuits. While the gueuze is disassembling your gumline, the sweet notes are reapply a sumptuous new ceiling on the roof of your mouth. Ultimately, your mouth becomes a public works project for strange ends.

D: This is not the most drinkable beer, even setting rarity aside. I really enjoyed it, but it is only fair to judge this against those that it shoulders ranks with. I personally enjoy Fou Foune and St. Lam much more than this “interesting” gem. If this Cantillon were on Match.com, all the sections would talk about how it does roller derby and has “such a great personality.” Don’t put a ring on it.

So they took this one thing and added it…to this other….thing….

Narrative: “Why are mommy and daddy fighting?” Baby Cognac wondered as she watched her parents tear apart their small abode. “OH OH OK THIS IS RICH! NOW IT’S….CAN I FINISH? LET ME FINISH!” Papa Gueuze was in one of his booze filled rages after a family outing. It had been chaos since they stepped into that Macaroni Grill and the din of excitement had now reached its sweet fever pitch. “Oh…SURE SURE….revert back to that, let’s focus on THAT ONE TIME AGAIN!” Mama Applezest was brandishing a large cutco knife and threatening no one in particular. Baby Cognac attempted to reconcile this hectic environment with her chaotic upbringing. No one wanted to visit, no one wanted to stay, but little cognac baby still had high hopes for later aging. She would get a pink VW Bug for her birthday to make up for the abuse living in that barrel of a home.

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Midnight Sun Oak Aged TREAT, Take You to the Oak Aged Shop, Let you Lick the Pumpkin Pop

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For the uninformed, this might look like a rather pedestrian gem for this site, that is until you see those magic words on that bottle OAK AGED. That’s right, we skipped right over the old traditional version and went directly for the .rar jugular. I have heard that they release 400 bottles of this each year, but maybe a Midnight Sun rep can clear that up for me. Either way, this is one of those 400+ wants < 15 gots sort of beers that brings all the boys to the yard. Let's get our pumpkins smashed in today's review:

Midnight Sun Brewing Co.
Alaska, United States
American Porter | 7.80% ABV

A: This has a slick blackness to it that doesn’t come across as a hefty boy, it is nimble and imparts some light sheeting on the walls but the mocha skeeting is kept to a refined minimum. The carbonation runs freely and serves up tiny effervescence like a hungover barista.

Out of the pumpkin mire, the oak aged chocolate monster cometh.

S: This has a much more robust nose than the regular version and deals out pumpkin, nutmeg, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, smashed M&Ms, light lactose aspects, and some pepper. There is a strange bit of clove and sweetness from a Djarum Black, the whole affair is classy but sticky at the same time, like 5th grade Halloween sleepovers in an opulent den of rich mahogany.

T: This carries the chocolate and pumpkin to the maximum, 7th gear engaged to the fullest. The spices are present throughout but are not overpowering, they are more like a tasty garnish to the main event. The chocolate and pumpkin don’t have that horrible synthetic feel that some other holiday offerings posit, I am looking at you Shipyard brewing and all of your Smashed Imperial offerings. It’s the kind of chocolatey boss that doesn’t give you your tens, but lets you leave early. Pretty solid.

Try this pumpkin beer that said. Only 7% abv they said.

M: This has a nice slick porter wateriness to it that imparts the flavor and gets out of there as though a new episode of Breaking Bad is on or something. You could put this back all day long, or you could open it with some people that will never have the chance to try it, either way beer curmudgeon. Spread the love around.

D: This is exceptionally drinkable and hides the abv well. The pumpkin and complexity of the chocolate aspects balance each other out and everyone is left with beige ass teeth smiling happily. The oak is not too pronounced but it is still empowers the other elements to do their thang, impart some vanilla and spice notes and then the bottle is gone.

This beer hits your flavor zones hard and leaves you stable, like a pumpkin BAWS.

Narrative: Bill Nye, the guy of science looked through the fusion reactor blast shield and scrawled some obtuse findings into a yellow notebook. The particle accelerator had successfully extracted carbon chains from both chocolate strains and disassembled complex amino acid chains from a gourd. Now the faint hue of the orange light spun rapidly as the proto-pumpkin quarks attempted to integrate themselves into the chocomatrix. “Those years of admonishing the reasoning faculties of children have postured me, BILL NYE, to usurp the throne of the king of Halloween.” The flow charts on the wall demonstrated the complex plan to become the figurehead of pagan rituals and how to rekindle the love of his followers through the use of science. “OH MY GO-” a flash of Ferrero Rocher gold erupted and Bill stared into the wispy whirring chocolate cloud. “MR. NYE! YOU CAN’T GO IN THERE, IT IS NOT FINISHED!” The Science Guy would see the instability of the product breaking down. He grabbed his oak clip board and entered the reactor and was imbued with chocolateyoakypumpkin free radicals, infusing him with the deep painful essence of Halloween. BUT WOULD HE USE THESE NEW FOUND HALLOPOWERS FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

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Westvleteren 8, The Baby Brother of the Best Beer in the World, AND THAT’S PRETTY OKAY.

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The baby borther of big bad Westy 12, the #1 (or 2?) ranked beer in the world, this lil guy still pulls his weight. AND IT IS ALSO A TOP 100 BEER.

Westy 8 All up in the mix, looking bashful with a modest ass bottle.

Westy 8, 8% abv, dubbel

A: Murky muddy brown with hazy golden notes at the edges, epic, epic carbonation, the head is relentless and lingers all the way down. It reminds me of those plants in Ursulas cave that taunt Arie- what? Nothing. I didn’t just reference the Little Mermaid, what were you talking about? God damnit, this is the second time that I have used that reference, highly dishonorable.

This beer was disturbingly difficult to land initially and was scary good. I wish there was a prolific Maine-based writer to document this horror story.

S: There’s very clean crisp esters that open up the nasal passage and impart this dryness with some sugars similar to a deep saison. It’s like the febreeze for an apothecary. Nice bit of herbal notes but a clarifying agent scours throughout.

T: It is overridingly gentle. The initial flavor doesn’t present itself overtly, it dapperly slides in and announces its presence with a mild plum note and then lovingly escorts your palate to the raisin notes. As a parting gift, your mouth is delivered a superb hop performance by the hop equivalent of Sidney Portier. The entire experience feels like I have been taught a soft lesson in Dubbels.

In the realm of successful dubbels, this Westy 8 delivers so hard.

M: It is incredibly light, at least I think so. It feels like I learned a lesson that I can’t quite place. The mouthfeel is so silky and smoothe it feels like I just bought a timeshare in Juarez and cant remember even listening to a sales pitch. The glass just empties itself hand over sip. That was a pun there, see how I did that? Ultimately, thin, somehow refreshing and not the candy overload that I was expecting.

D: I don’t understand how they did this. Seriously. I want to blame the water recipe or monks or. . .something. . .but my glass has emptied itself incredibly fast. It doesn’t make any sense. When it warms up, it is even more deadly. Thank god they don’t sell this in America. If the USA ever got this recipe it would be like if old slug worth got a hold of the plans for fizzy lifting drinks. Then we would all be regimented to cleaning the ceilings. Respectively.

Only people of the most discriminating taste and regal poise enjoy this beverage. Picture unrelated.

Narrative: Tuesday was pruning day, that afternoon, preserves and jams, later that evening, hypnotherapy for the residents. It was not an ideal job at the outset, running a bed and breakfast and all. However, after Father Methulsela gained his footing, he was the most gentle and skilled B&B operator in the Pacific Northwest. “The sheets? They smelled of lavender. We never saw him but there were fresh pastries almost every time we left the home. I swear he made that fig marmalade himself.” “Yeah honey, now that you mention it, I don’t remember ever seeing that crafty caretaker, God was he subtle.” The couple looked right and their cups were bussed, replaced with confectionaries and doilies. “See? Look at that, totally unnecessary and polite. It’s pleasant to the point of being, strange.” As he finished that sentence, his Honda CRV has just completed a transmission flush and radiator core recharge, free of charge. “SEE! SEE!”