So, I've been on an incredible streak of buying and consuming fine-tasting compounds and concentrates lately, and I think it all began when I raffled off three crisp American dollars in exchange for a single Green Flash Double Stout bottle that kicked off my week of toasting a soggy Mother Nature with my handsome palate.
As I mentioned in that entry, Green Flash was the beer architect whose buildings I never gazed upon because of suspect advice that their blueprints were miscalculated. It practically took a constitutional amendment to bypass that stigma, and now I realize how wrong I was to dismiss them.
As any beer nerd will tell you, adding a new brewery to his recurrent rotation is a game changer. Suddenly, you have a new exit strategy when the impenetrable wall of six packs at the Mega Outlet becomes too aggressive. Green Flash has become that new beacon, The Hatch, if you will allow the pun.
Recently, my part-time buddy Justin at King Liquor -- and I say "part-time" because he's my barley, grain, and hops dealer (and, really, who can be friends with their dealer?) -- informed me that he had somehow over-ordered Green Flash's Rayon Vert, and he was pretty anxious to move the stuff. Ideal for your purposes. Slow release. Bring you down gradual. Custom fucking designed for your needs.
So, I'm like: Mickey Forrester?! Russian Sailors?! I'll take what you've got.
Its that SMH moment, followed by a wry grin, when you know you've just experienced something simple, understated, and elegantly gorgeous. Its like the total opposite, yet equal, emotion of listening to PULP's Disco 2000 along with 60,000 other people at Glastonbury. This was Jarvis Cocker humping my tongue with crystalline wild yeasts and segueing right into the fresh melon and strawberries of Common People. You sons-of-bitches. You know this is too much to contain, so the head-shaking and small grins become an evolved, toothy smile and another interrogating bottle-glance. I'm inspecting this vessel's writing in search of a reason why this is just so fucking spectacular.
Continuously Evolving, it says. But, then, I'm not so sure what their frame of reference is. Rayon Vert is evolving right here in my gizzard. This is over-ripened and muddled vine plant, balanced beautifully by subdued hops and subtle citrus. This is farmhouse yeast strains and the Number 3 setting of your Cuisinart toaster. The end result is joy.
But, I'm also suspecting that Continuously Evolving really means, like, right now, in my fridge. In your fridge. In Justin's therapeutic coolers. Rayon Vert is an everlasting gobstopper of flavors and it is anyone's guess as to the perfect time to pop this. Maybe every time is perfect? I'd like that lessened pressure.
Sensationalism aside, there is nothing similar on the market.
The Green Flash family states that Rayon Vert was 'sparked by a self-imposed challenge to
produce a Belgian style abbey to unmistakably express the spirit of
Green Flash if the brewery were producing just one beer and operating
under the conditions of Pre-WWII Belgium.' -- a challenge that took the brewery over four years to accomplish. With a philosophy like that, who would deny them expansionism into his heart and Zeitgeist of the liquor depot like it was the Champs-Élysées?
The minds at Green Flash also say that Rayon Vert will age like champagne. Are you getting the connection here? Surrender to greatness. Oui?