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You’ll find her straddling the line between Belgium and the Czech Republic, wearing little more than a grin. She’s not smiling because she just fooled you into believing the aforementioned countries share a border (though that was rather amusing). The Harlot’s upturned lips and dimpled cheeks merely complete the come-hither guise she’s painted on for the evening. She is filled with an insatiable thirst and she’s not leaving until its quenched. But first she must identify another whose hunger for unadulterated pleasure is as great as hers. It’s no easy feat, but the next carousel rider at her nightly carnival of the flesh shall not be disappointed. This fiery dynamo has a great deal to offer; attributes that go far beyond what’s visible at first glance.

Blonde and bubbly, she draws in those who meet her sensual criteria, exposing them to an alluring attar of straw and spring flowers. On the lips, she’s gentle and supple, flirtatious versus smothering, stimulating the senses gradually while slowly revealing her many assets. Notes of nearly-ripe citrus and garden herbs give way to essence of (could it be…why, yes it is) bubble gum minced with light peppercorn-like spice followed by a bitterness that nips at the tongue, inviting it back for more. Looked past by some and cast aside by others, The Harlot offers adventure and exhilaration to those whose fire matches her incendiary passion. Ever-fleeting, but always at the ready, she is a fixture; one you can always count on for a tryst that will leave you simultaneously satisfied yet longing for more.

THE HARLOT
Subculture: Old World | Style: Belgian-style Extra Ale | Alcohol-by-Volume: 5.6%
Availability: Draft-only at the Societe Tasting Room and throughout San Diego County

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From bluegrass to death-metal, Old World lagers and Belgian-style ales to hoppy Out West IPAs, Stygian dark beers and Feral wine barrel-aged sours, Societe Brewing Company is a lot of things, but more than anything else, we are the passionate people guided by respect for beer and the art of brewing, doing our best, day-in and day-out, to make this brewery all that it is for all of you. We’re glad so many people appreciate it and are happy to present you to the incredible members of our family.

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You roll along, taking in scenes of uncharted territory while basking in the splendorous freedom of the open road. You have four wheels, a full tank of petrol and not a care in the world. The world is your oyster…or so you mistakenly think. In truth, this particular section of the world belongs to another—The Highwayman. He’s made the tarred narrow swath bisecting these otherwise deserted expanses his own, not by deed or contract, but by sheer force of will. Without a lawman for miles, this strategic hijacker is a self-appointed judge, jury and executioner…if it comes to that. He prefers to merely brandish his club, but the notches inflicted upon it by the skulls of those who would defy The Highwayman’s will are proof that it’s far more than a motivating prop.

You’ll know he’s in your vicinity the second you catch a whiff of barnyard mixed with horse-stable and lemon trees, but by the time you pick up on that, it’ll be too late. The Highwayman will be upon you, demanding the swift surrender of your will and worldly goods. Whether you go at The Highwayman head-on or employ evasive zigzagery, resistance is futile; he always gets what he thinks he has coming to him. And just when you think you have him pinned—he’s funky, he’s vinous, he’s fruity, he’s spicy—he pulls something new out of his bag of tricks, transforming in your very presence into something completely different. Give up, give in and you’ll reach your final destination. You’ll be a little lighter when you get there, but you’ll certainly arrive a more seasoned wayfarer.

THE HIGHWAYMAN
Subculture: Feral | Style: Pale Ale Aged with Brettanomyces | Alcohol-by-Volume: 6.6%
Availability: For sale exclusively in 500ml bottles at the Societe Tasting Room

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It’s impossible to lay gaze upon The Miser’s wealth of treasures and avoid succumbing to petty jealousy. He has it all, and he has it all on everybody else. But is he happy? Of course he is. He has everything, and your envy is the very proof that material things matter as much as they do. Otherwise, why would he eschew basic gestures of generosity despite having far more than he could ever need? Like all of us, The Miser has chosen what’s important in life, and what means the most to him is stuff, and the accumulation of it. Yes, he has it all…and he intends to keep every bit of it for himself.

Being in The Miser’s eccentric presence can be challenging—and a tad more than some can withstand. Fortunately, he keeps to himself for the most part, making only the rarest of public appearances; pouring into town like some gaudy parade-float for a covetous world to get an eyeful of. He’s a show-off, but you have to hand it to him, while this victor hoards his spoils, he puts them to good use, extracting the very best from the very best stock to produce a spectacle both overwhelming and delicious. More hops than should be afforded on any one beer are packed into every stage of the brewing process to produce a brawny yet fluid quaff with illustrious aromatics of stone-fruit and pine, followed by bold citrus and tropical-fruit flavors. It’s balanced, but not the least bit subtle; something to be appreciated…provided you can pry a glass from The Miser’s stingy death-grip.

THE MISER
Subculture: Out West | Style: Really Big IPA | Alcohol-by-Volume: 10.5%
Availability: Draft-only (once in a blue moon), exclusively at the Societe Tasting Room

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He watches the world like a bloated vulture atop an ivory tower awaiting the expiration of the wretched and the damned. For most, life is a journey versus a destination, but his entire life has been about reaching the lofty space he occupies. His personal voyage is over. Now he’s a fixture on a nearly astral plane of governance where the haves rule the have-nots. To get there, he painted on an uncharacteristically pleasant public-facing persona to garner ballots bearing his name. The road to his enviable place in the political hierarchy was paved with those slips of electoral parchment; so seemingly small and insignificant alone, yet so powerful when lumped together to convey majority-rule. But long gone are his days of groveling to curry the favor of the unwashed masses. A clever politico knows such tactics are only necessary the first time around. The Highbinder now employs more efficient, foolproof tactics for ensuring reelection and acceleration of his agenda.

There’s always a loophole to exploit, so long as you look hard enough, and never a shortage of big-wheels to grease nor citizens to strong-arm. Failing all that, he’s a man of means and there is nothing a fat wad of greenbacks can’t take care of. This is his stance, his credo. It’s never been about his constituents, simply about having constituents upon which to impose his will. It feeds his ego, that most vital component of his being. And what good is money and power without status and the unchallengeable ability to do whatever you please, even if it flies in the face of everything you promised to get elected, everything your position supposedly stands for and the entire democratic system you’ve sworn to uphold and protect? His very existence and death-grip on the crown answer that very question louder than words ever could. But to meet with him in his palace on-high at least means indulging in the refined raspberry-, wine- and oak-kissed, barrel-aged nectar bearing his name. Unlike him, it is subtle, refined and true. Snag a few bottles on your way out—he owes you at least that much.

THE HIGHBINDER
Subculture: Feral | Style: Blended Barrel-Aged Sour Ale with Raspberries | Alcohol-by-Volume: 5.7%
Availability: For sale exclusively in 500ml bottles at the Societe Tasting Room

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Some journey the world in search of that special someone; a soul-mate for which they are perfectly suited to spend eternity. The Bachelor observes this behavior—he can even find the nobility and normalcy in it—but for him, monogamy is simply too cruel a rule. This free-wheeling gadabout sees the fairer half of this spinning orb’s populace as a nearly endless source of pleasure. Were it possible, he’d have his way with all of them, but knowing his earthly and biologic limitations, he employs a more selective, fastidious approach that’s as frequent as it is fleeting, hand-selecting conquests, one after the other, unimpeded by the concept of forever. It’s always a one-time thing. There will be no repeat-performances. It’s going to be what it’s going to be, but it’s also going to be a thorough exploration that touches on all the senses.

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Many are the comely damsels who’ve surrendered to The Bachelor’s charms. And he distinctly remembers each of them…but not necessarily because they tickled his fancy or scratched that proverbial itch. Were achieving such synergy as simple as two random forces colliding, life would be so much simpler…and, in his opinion, insanely dull. Part of the excitement of engaging the opposite sex (but never in a matrimonial sense) is the potential for incompatibility. How can one fully appreciate harmony unless they’ve suffered through discord? Without our failures, what would drive us to succeed? Each imperfect liaison helps him recognize the desirable characteristics missing from that tryst, thus increasing the probability of achieving eventual perfection. Yes, The Bachelor has learned a great deal by perpetually pushing the envelope of singularity…but he’s nowhere near finished.

THE BACHELOR
Subculture: Out West | Style: Single-Hop IPA | Alcohol-by-Volume: 6.5%
Availability: Draft-only, at the Societe Tasting Room and throughout San Diego County
Hop Varietals Explored (so far): Cascade, Centennial, Mosaic, Motueka, Chinook, Citra, Azacca, Amarillo, Rakau, Sorachi Ace, Jarrylo, Simcoe, El Dorado, Northern Brewer, Galaxy, Hallertau Blanc, Mandarina Bavaria, Eureka!, Idaho 7, Calypso, Nugget, African Queen (AKA: J17), Nelson Sauvin, CTZ

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There you are, perched atop a barstool, perusing the beer-board, when suddenly you pick up the silhouette of a foreboding figure in your periphery. Though unassuming in most ways, this individual demands your attention—not by might or even with words—but by his mere presence. He stands at the doorway for a moment, surveying the place’s inhabitants, assessing…always assessing. For this is his business, assessment and, of course, collection. Though gaunt as a specter, his right forearm is surprisingly meaty, for it does the literal heavy-lifting. Dangling from the end of that appendage is an empty satchel, but it won’t be empty for long. The Exciseman has come to claim his due and he won’t be leaving until he’s been made whole.

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You lock eyes and know in an instant that resistance is futile. Cat-and-mousery will only prolong the inevitable, so as he approaches you allow yourself to yield and order a black lager. It pours onyx as the unfeeling heart of this unwelcomed guest. It tantalizes, first with faint traces of stony minerality followed by bold flavors of baker’s chocolate. Just as you begin to take it all in, like the garnishing of wages, your palate is wiped clean by a bone-dry finish that leaves you eager to go back for more. You indulge that yen, time passes and, before you know it, The Exciseman is on his way out the door, his satchel filled with your hard-earned wages. And you find this experience, this transaction, wasn’t all that bad after all. In fact, it was quite pleasant. In this brief moment, you can appreciate the art of this infrequent visitor. You offer an unseen tip of your hat to him—and a percentage of your wealth—and take another sip.

THE EXCISEMAN
Subculture: Stygian  |  Style: Black Lager  |  Alcohol-by-Volume: 5.4%
Availability: Draft-only, at the Societe Tasting Room and throughout San Diego County

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