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In 1886 the people of France gifted the USA a copper statue of mammoth proportions. Now, the French may have a reputation for being the camembert to America’s hard and sharp cheddar, but when they are brainstorming what to share with their brothers in arms they go big. Statue-of-Liberty big. It’s the same ‘round here.
In 2014 we released Foux Du Fafa for the first time to celebrate our second anniversary. We blinked and saw our wares disappear faster than you could say “au revoir mon amour.”
Now, like a good, steamy french kiss, it’s back as big, as wet, and as unforgettable as ever. Imperial Farmhouse IPA means as many things as you would think. Huge tropical fruit hop aroma jumps out immediately, followed by an earthy, peppery farmhouse yeast profile that wouldn’t be out of place in your favorite sessionable saison. It’s that funky farmhouse yeast that leaves this beer super dry but jam packed with layers of bitterness, tangy citrus (un peu de pamplemousse?) and tropical fruit (ananas!) hop flavor, with a powerfully fresh aroma thanks to some sturdy dry-hopping with Amarillo, Citra and Centennial. Sound good? Oui? Faisons l'amour! Rapidement! Santé!
We've never been huge supporters of the status quo. SOBs have always been more comfortable playing the mad scientist Dr. Clayton Forrester and seeing how far we can get you to follow along without going insane or changing the channel. So far you seem to kind of like it that way.
Eigengrau is not your average kölsch. Far from it. Like Cologne’s fuckingepicasfuck cathedral, Eigengrau is our gothic reminder of the unending wrestle for balance between light and dark. As its namesake implies, Eigengrau’s color rests just on the dark side of black, but don’t let this menacing facade fool you. The mellow roastiness of German chocolate wheat gently blankets a sweet, bready, and biscuity malt profile with mellow, almost lager-like fermentation characteristics. Throw in some mild floral hops and the final equilibrium is a light-bodied beer that, while eccentrically SOB, rests sturdily within a tradition that refuses to be ignored. So close your eyes, take a sip, and raise your longest finger in the face of expectation--smiling all the while. Prost.