The “sweet malt backbone” is there for sure, but I don’t know about the rest of it. The first sip is very dry, but subsequent sips are somewhat smoother. I almost want to use the word “dank,” but I’m still not sure if I would be using it correctly. (You’d think I would have learned some shit by now, but I hear there’s this virus going around.) And just when I think I have a handle on what Mosaic tastes like, this fucker comes along and kicks me in the nuts. My vaccine’s computer chip tells me I should like this one, but the part of me that is struggling to remain free and sentient keeps trying to protest that this kind of sweetness is right on the edge of cloying—and not in a good way. (Is there any way in which cloying can be thought of as good? I feel like I used to know that.) The second one tastes pretty much the same, and I’m starting to feel like Dr. Jekyll toward the end of the story, when he realizes that the only thing that could turn him back into himself was an impure batch of a particular ingredient that he can never get again. The…horror!
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