During a recent tasting event I was hosting at Kindling Spirits - a local boutique beer and wine retailer I work closely with - I deviated from our typical course of excellent, but otherwise "common" beer styles - and threw a slight curve ball at my friends in attendance. Grabbing a green-tinted bottle from the walk-in cooler, I proceeded to pry the crown off of the bottle and then draw the cork up and out, resulting in an audible "poof" as the pressure in the bottle released the accumulated carbonation inside.
This was the first indication that my friends were in for something ... different. A crown and a cork. Hmmm ... odd.
Once poured into our house sample glasses (tulip-style, in case you're keeping score), I encouraged the group to let the beer warm a bit by cupping the glassware in both hands, then to swirl the contents vigorously and breathe in the aromas emitting from the glass and into the air. This exercise alone was enough entertainment for me, as I observed peculiar, somewhat contorted looks and a decided grimace or two from those around me.
What my friends were smelling obviously wasn't your typical fare.
The brave souls slowly tilted their glasses and tasted the pale gold -colored liquid inside. The reaction this time was priceless. For some, you would have sworn they'd just sipped pure lemon juice, while another quickly summed up his thoughts on the experience with a definitive, "no." The consensus seemed to be that this stuff had clearly gone bad and anyone with good sense would be crazy to intentionally drink this vile substance to which they'd been subjected. I'm sure many now question my palate, and sanity, as a result.
Good. The process has begun.
The bottle I brought out was a
Lindemans Cuvee Rene - a good but not superlative example of the Belgian gueuze style, in my estimation. While the majority of Lindemans beers you'll find in wide distribution are of the sugary sweet variety and
not representative of the traditional Belgian lambic beers, this particular beer I find to be an exception and contrary to my audience's reaction, a good "gateway" beer to introduce the uninitiated into the wild and wooly world of sour beers. Cuvee Rene is not overpoweringly sour and contains enough sweetness to round out the tart edges of this spontaneously-fermented beer. It's tame, relatively speaking.
While sour beers are still something of a rarity in many parts of the U.S., we are starting to see a growing interest in these wildly complex (pun intended) beers and several American craft brewers are leading the way. Rather than elaborating on the who and what here, I thought I'd share
this surprisingly good read from the
L.A. Times on the subject. The article mentions several terrific and innovative craft breweries who are doing terrific things with wild yeast strains and wood these days, like
Allagash,
Jolly Pumpkin and
Russian River.
If you've never had a traditional lambic or gueuze (the Lindeman fruit beers don't count, sorry), I'd encourage you to keep your mind - and your palate - open and try one. Ideally, attend a tasting or a beer dinner where these sour beers are being featured. Often times, the context in which you drink these beers makes a huge difference in how you perceive them. Food pairings, of course, can change an otherwise "offensive" beer into something special. Don't force your palate into submission just because you feel like you'll lose beer geek cred if you don't like sours. They are for many, admittedly, an acquired taste and the pleasure truly is in the journey. Take your time and before you know it, you'll likely be sipping sours with the rest of us wild and crazy people.
The other reason is that, for the intrepid brewer, saisons are also a terrific style to brew in warm weather as they benefit from a relatively hot primary fermentation. In fact, members of the Aleuminati Alechemists are taking advantage of this fact even now for our third collaborative beer brewing session. I hope to get in on this action soon as well, but with a baby due to arrive any day now, I'm gonna wait until I can focus on the beer again. Until then, you can read about the saison-brewing exploits of Aleuminati luminaries like Ray Grace and Rob DeNunzio right here.
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