I am at a complete loss, however, to explain why such a beverage, named The Crimson Bird, would feature such tremendously eerie artwork on the label. I guess they were bored with cardinals? I mean, it's not that I don't like it - it is really well executed and supremely detailed, reminiscent of the work of the comics work of Berni Wrightson and evocative of Mike Mignola - but the skull and bones scattered throughout the raspberry bush from which flees the titular avian, as well as the semi-gothic font, feel more in keeping with a northern European death-metal band than a craft brewery from - wait, Spain?
A reddish tint is discernible from the first pour, with the resulting rose-gold cloudiness being topped with a pink-white foam for the head. The scents of tangy fruit and tangier yeasts waft up from the glass, and the back of my tongue clenches in anticipation of what is to come.
The Crimson Bird is tart right out of the gate, but in a friendly enough fashion. The taste of raspberries carries though both the middle and finish of each swallow. At the end of a 13 hour workday, I regret that my thirst overcame my desire to savour this beer, but only a bit. It was a pleasing quencher of a beer, well balanced and not too sweet despite the addition of fruit and an abv of 6.1%
I always think of saisons as summer beers for some reason, and think The Crimson Bird would be an ideal accompaniment to either an afternoon on a patio with friends, or to a strawberry and spinach salad. Creepy on the bottle, but delightful within it, I would definitely purchase this beer again.