
Whatever I’m doing, there is a good chance I am the fourth Floyd. My very first brew, an American wheat, was boss, and I am stone cold optimistic on the pale ale I get to crack open the second day of Lent (unless I stupidly give up beer). And this dubbel? Oh boy. When I racked—[brewer slang, means “moved”]—this to the secondary it smelled so good I almost cried.