Revelry

Legend says our brewers lured rogue American hops out of the North Woods with nothing but a boombox playing 1989 hair metal and a tray of caramel malt brownies the size of snowmobiles.. We then drop-kicked those hops into a vat of caramel malt so thick it has its own gravitational pull. First sip: your taste buds file a noise complaint. Second sip: the furniture unionizes and demands confetti. Third sip: you challenge a pine tree to a dance-off, lose on purpose, and still get crowned Prom King of the Forest by a jury of squirrels. This is Revelry; buckle up.