Valaduta Brovar - Foretaste

After loading another cart with hay, which was already shrivelled by time, and sticking his pitchfork into the loose earth, the farmer sat down and stroked his dog. He imagined that in a few hours, when only a slice of the scarlet sunset remained behind, he would return to his ramshackle hut, retrieve an old cask from the cold cellar and pour himself a large mug of ale. Isn't that the real anticipation? After a hard day's work, what could be better than downing a glass of golden, slightly hazy Belgian farmhouse ale with aromas of freshly cut hay, coriander and white pepper?